Supercape

[url=https://orokos.com/roll/990544]Notice[/url]: [u]1d20+4[/u] [b]8[/b] hurrah!

Diamondlight Let the Bodies Hit the Ground (5 posts) -> Haven Vignette (1.3K Words) -> I think this will roll to Haven (as Diamondlight is Titanium now?) Gamma Buzz VIgnette (1.3K Words) Peak Vignette (1.1K Words) Bloody Mess (Titanium) Vignette (1.2 K Words) -> Captain Cosmos Echohead Teching the Tech (6 posts) Vignette (1.1 K Words) Flintlock (Titanium) Vignette (1.2K Words) -> Roll to Captain Cosmos Lord Steam (Titanium) Vignette (1.2 K Words) -> Roll to Captain Cosmos Gamma Buzz Moving In (5 Posts) Rev (Titanium) ACAV (4 Posts) -> Roll to Haven GM Beyond the Pale (3 Posts) Golden Dead (6 Posts) Double the Treble (6 Posts) Total GM Posts = 15. Multiplied by 2 for 30 Bonus posts. Allocated thusly; 21 to Haven (Total 25) for 3 PP 1 Point to Snakebite, Peak, Captain Cosmos, Echohead, Sgt Shark. The remaind to Gamma Buzz, although I think that only takes him to 9 posts! Thankyou

Diamondlight in The stomach of Mister Silk It was a busy night at the High Steaks. The normal varied crowd, gamblers, would be gamblers, diners, winers, and capes. A few less savoury characters; the crook had been robbed and was in a foul mood. He ordered fowl just to emphasise the point. The one handed Yakuza known as Devil-Hand. Professor Armitage, the occultist who was surely involved in smuggling, but was nevertheless a respected authority and fine company. The sultry singer, Velvet, who seemed to attract villains and vultures like a flame attracts moth. Plenty got burned by her red hair and smooth voice. August Zoss, the owner, kept an interested eye on all of his customers when he dined there. But what really caught his eye, as he tucked into a medium rare steak and glass of Pinot Noir, was the Chinese Chemist Bruce Yum-Fat, also known as Mister Silk. The man was known for trading in silks and textiles. But the rumour was, he was really smuggling illegal pharmaceuticals, illicit drugs, anything that his scientific mind could weave into his fabrics. He had amassed millions in months, and the authorities had not a thing on him. He ran his “business” with an iron fist, enforcing absolute loyalty on pain of death. Or pain of pain, which in his case was even worse. Bruce pulled no punches. He was, apparently, a master of Kung Fu. He was also massive. Six foot six, and just as broad, with layers of corpulent fat jammed into every limb, levered onto his bones from the top of his head to his oversized feat. He was probably well of two hundred and fifty kilograms. But not just obese, he had a ferocious strength. It was said that Bruce Yun-Fat was once a foot shorter and weighed a third of his current size, but some experiment with chemicals had given him his height, strength, and extraordinary obesity. And extraordinary appetite. In front of him, Bruce Yum-Fat had: Eleven steaks, Rare, with double cooked chips Nine Pork Sausages, served on a bed of mash potatoes Seven Chicken Kiev on an asparagus lattice Six Halibut, with lemon and herb dressing That’s right, thirty-three main courses. A pile of meat! To his credit, Brice Yum-Fat did not drink. He had a large jug of mineral water to help his digestion. And he did avoid the vegetables with a passion. Bruce Yum-Fat was taking his time, working his way through the banquet, nay, the mountain of meat. He gave a fierce glare to anyone who gave him even the slightest of disapproving looks. It was enough of a glare to put anyone of their food. Enough of a glare to make anyone suddenly very interested in the nearest wall’s artwork, and very disinterested in looking at Mister Silk again. Despite the mammoth order, August decided that this was not good for business. The High Steaks was were you could lose your money, but it would not do for a fight to break out, or for Mister Silk to give some of the more venerable patrons a heart attack with an evil eye. Mister Silk was wearing an expensive black suit embraided with gold thread. But, as was his usual style, he was wearing a signature white silk shirt. The finest silk money could buy, the cleanest white one could envisage. Yes, Mister Silk, chemical engineer, also dabbled in dry cleaning. Even August Zoss, one of the richest men on the planet, looked upon Mister Silk’s silk shirt with a touch of envy. So smooth! So white! So red! Whoops! Velvet, the singer, drunk on red wine (and plenty of it) had tripped on one of impractically high heels whilst staggering to the casino tables, saying she fancied her luck at the Roulette wheel. But fate – and bad footwear and alcohol – had a bad hand in store for her that evening. She twisted her angle, ripped her too-tight red dress, and emptied her entire glass of red wine over Mister Silk’s shirt. Nobody moved, or even blinked. Mister Silk frowned, took half a fillet steak from his mouth with a fork, and placed it, gently, back on his mountain of meat. It was half masticated. He took a napkin and patted his mouth. “Ooopsie…” said Velvet with a hiccup and a giggle. Oopsie indeed…. In a flash, August was beside the two of them. Literally in a flash. With a burst of silver-blue light, he teleported across the High Steaks and interjected himself between Mr Silk and Velvet. He did not keep his super powers a secret, something he regretted from time to time, but right now he was glad he did not have to change into a costume or wrap a napkin around his head. Every second counted. “Please accept my apologies, Mister Yum-Fat” he said, with a polite nuanced bow. “And it goes without saying the meal is in the house.” Mister Silk clenched his fists. August could not help notice that they were very big fists, with knuckles decorated in callosities. Mister Silk could break bones with those fists. Possibly even punch a hole through a Diamond light forcefield. He did not care to test the theory. “She ruined my shirt,” said Mister Silk. “Not you. Her. Clumsy drunk…” “I’m just a bit tipsy…” giggled Velvet, who was clearly more than a bit tipsy. August liked Velvet. She was an excellent singer, and fun company. And she was, one couldn’t help say, very beautiful. But right now, he felt like stapling her mouth shut. “Mr Yum Fat, your palate and appetite are surely legendary. Please, consider my kitchens at your disposal,” he said, bowing again, and making sure his backside shoved Velvet away from the conversation. She was duly shoved, duly twisted her ankle on one of her ridiculously hazardous high heels, and fell to the floor. “Ouchie!” she moaned. Serves her right. And a twisted ankle is nothing compared to Mister Silk’s fists… And yet August bristled, wrestling with an itching in his throat that urged him to scream, fighting the gnawing heat in his hand that told him to slap Mister Silk in his elephantine jowls. Bruce Yum-Fat was a thug, a bully, a blight on the world. Would the world truly care if Diamondlight impaled Mister Silk’s face with a laser-sword? No… that’s the path to being some dark vigilante. Tempting, but it’s the road to ruin. This was the High Steaks. Tempers might get frayed, drinks might get spilled, cards and dice might get thrown in frustration. But it wasn’t a place for brawls. It had a reputation to protect, and August Zoss was going to protect it. He gave a smile at Mister Silk. “All you can eat, courtesy of the house.” Mister Silk gave August a dark look. He had small, black eyes that reminded August of a shark. “I expect your chef’s to excel themselves.” August looked at the pile of meat and discarded bones that lay infront of Mister Grab and wondered how the man could possibly eat any more. “I apologise. Was the food not to your palate?” Mister Silk snorted. “I confess it was… acceptable.” Acceptable! August kept a warm smile plastered over his simmering rage. “I am sure they will be delighted to hear it. And equally delighted to assail your appetite with further gastronomic delight!” It was a bold claim. The High Steaks had excellent food, but there were a couple of other restaurants in Freedom City which could be bolder. Not many, but a few. August spent the rest of the evening fawning over Mister Silk and making sure that Velvet exited the building as safely as possible. Every compliment August gave was sour in his mouth. Every smile tasted bitter. He was catering to a bully. But now was not the time. He swore to himself that a time would come. He would take down Mister Silk and his gang of thugs. Patience was a virtue, he told himself. But damn, it rankled.

Captain Cosmos Buddy eased up the brakes on his all out flight, drifting to a standstill, hovering above the ocean. Deep water, ready to swallow me, leap up my nose, into my lungs, grasp my skin with cold. It would be impossible for Buddy to drown now; he no longer needed oxygen. But still the lapping waves seemed to threaten to plunge him back to his childhood. The fury of his father. It doesn't look so pacific now... He forced his mind back to the present, making sure to hover twenty feet above the ocean waves. "Ho!" he said, spreading his arms like an eagle, palms facing the woman and the beast. "Who are you, madam?" he asked the fiery woman. "And what leviathan is this?" He hoped it was nothing to worry about. But it was a foolish hope. He knew very well that it looked awfully like something to worry about. It looked like a fight was brewing.

OK so looks like some PvP! Hopefully you both approach it for fun rather than competition Ill give you both an HP for getting wires crossed (the folly of youth!) Luke - Unharmed - 5 HP Chimera - Unharmed - 4 HP And then Luke has a Fort Save DC 18 for Stun. If he fails that, then a concentration check to keep flying (DC 13). If he falls, then its falling into the water lets call that a mild DC 10 Toughness save but also underwater!

GM Summer yawned and opened her eyes, looking around and then closing them. "Ouch!" she mumbled. "Feels like a have a hangover. What happened? I.. think I'm getting a migraine. Everything seems bright, loud. Whats that smell?" She kept one eye clamped shut and opened her other one, peering at Bernadette. "What the hell happened? Did one of those punk girls hit me on the head?" Meanwhile "The Duke?" said the Leprachaun. "I don't know much about him. He is rich. He is dying. He's smart, and got a tongue made of pure silver. I don't think he's a bad man, just a desperate one. Afraid of death. Can't blame a man for that - I've had a few close scrapes meself, and got the scars to show it. But this place is the pendulum swung too far. Its too much life. You know like how a vampire kills you by sucking the life outa ya? This place will drive ya mad by blowing too much life into ya!"

DIamondlight "Sorry" said August, turning down the light a little more. It was no more like a lazy summer evening, still silver-blue but muted. "Bad habit. I need to work on my sunrise, eh?" The boy had a real knack for knowing stuff though. "How did you sense all that?" he asked. Telepathy? Magic? "No, tell me another time. RIght now its a damn good lead. A woman at the scene, eh? What was she like? Beautiful?" He gave Luke a wink. What was the point of adolescent boys if not to tease, after all? And Luke said something else. Someone with a craving for flesh and blood, in the crowd. True, they didn't want the crowd to scatter, not yet. "If you can follow a scent, then lead on. Sounds like you are the man for the job!"

Gamma Buzz "Work hard, play hard, sleep hard!" agreed Baz. It sounded daunting. It made his throat dry. Truth was, he hadn't really engaged in formal education back in Mexico. He played truant, running around dusty streets, listening to street musicians, climbing up buildings, and playing in the local dump. Where he found some really interesting glowing-green cockroaches to play with. He studied what he found interesting, not old schoolbooks in an old school. The prospect of studying things he wasn't interested in, and getting through exams. That made his head hurt. He wasn't stupid, by no means, but he didn't have that greased brain of Lawrence or other kids which seemed to process information like a machine. Well, so what? He could still fire frickin laser beams from his eyes! He gave a wave at Parker "Parker, oh yeah, Parker! Hi Parker!" Who the hell was Parker? Best to pretend he knew. Lawrence knew, so it must be cool to know. "I'm Baltazar Botez, but call me Baz. Or call me Gamma Buzz. Or the incredible Cockroach Kid!"

Echohead "Turtlehead? Really, is that the best you could come up with?" blubbered Echohead. "The name, madam, is Echohead! Master of the mind! Excellency of Echo! And other witty witicisms that I haven't quite come up with yet but will, without doubt, be witty. Am I saying this out loud?" Bah! My wiring has really gone crazy with this copy. "Nevermind! I see through your taunts! What would I do with synthetic life trying to replace biological life? I think self preservation would be in order. But how do you know its trying to replace biological life, hmm? You just blew up the only evidence! Are you so sure of its intent? And what lies behind the intent? Maybe it, too, was acting in self preservation? I appreciate your concern, but I cannot sympathise with your certainty... that, Madam, is the mark of a fanatic. So unless you have something to back up your claims, you can consider me unconverted!"

Diamondlight August gave a shrug of apology to Ramsey. "Hey, if you are going to smoke, may as well have a good taste." "Is the Killer here?" he wondered out aloud. "As opposed to.. ah... elsewhere in time and space..." he continued, arching an eyebrow at Aquaria. Somewhere in time and space... well that narrows it down. I suppose the Killer is also the Killer. A Killer who killed. And other amazing insights. If so, he best take precaution. In the blink of an eye, he was covered in a scintellating silver-blue forcefield, lighting up the surrounding area in an equally silver-blue light for dozens of yards in every direction. It was as bright as noon. He turned down the light a notch - mindful it was perhaps a little to hard on the eyes. "What killed the victim? Not drowning, I guess. A bullet? a knife? a freeze ray?" He was a man of many talents, but forensic autopsies were not part of his skill set. He scanned the surroundings, trying to discern movement in the bushes, in the trees. "This is where we split up and comb the area, I guess..."

Lets go for a skill mastery so 27

GM "Well theres the rub, ain't it. This place wont give ya up that easily. And stay here to long will drive ya crazy. Not like me, of course, no I'm totally freekin sane and not a goddamn depressed lunatic after spending years in this place. No.. I'm not a bitter sour mess with a head full of melanchoy tunes and whiskey soaked brain cells. Not me, not me, no way!" The Leprachaun smashed his fists in rage on the tree trunk he sat on, so hard that the wood splintered. He gazed at his bloodied hand which started to heal almost instantly. "Bloody place, you can't even kill yerself!" He cleared his throat. "Best I can tell ya, is you get out the same way ya came in. Music. And magic. And for some reason, twins - they seem to open the door. Or doubles. Or something like that. The Duke now, he got a real strong connection to this place, I can feel it..."

Gamma Buzz "Oh well, you know, I got sixteen more suitcases to bring up. No problem," said Baz with a wave of his hand. He pointed to his lonely backpack. "No, truth is this is about all I got in the world. But who needs clothes when you got armour plates?" he said, with a red eyed wink and tap of his chest. His three fingers clacked against the impressive green exoskeleton. "American dream though, right? Pull yourself up by your boostraps. As soon as I can buy some boots, and some straps, that's just what I am going to do. Right now though, I'm going to give this school all I got. I'm no genius, but you can bet on my determination. And no way am I going to screw this up!" He puffed his exoskeleton up proudly. "Cockroach Kid, here to save the day!!!" He cleared his throat. "So lets go impress our classmates with how awesomely awesome we are, right?" he said with a grin. Baz did, at least, still have human teeth and they were, as a side effect of radioactive polish, impressively white.

GM And Meanwhile... Down on the ship... There was movement. It was hard to say exactly what. It was not so much the dim light (although that was no problem for Nightscale) of the moon, and the gently slapping surface of the ocean that glistened in the moonlight. It was the cargo containers, that provided plenty of nooks and crannies to hide in. And the crew itself - five burly sailors, were coming out, armed with pistols. With the sailors came one large man, decked out in full military gear, a mercenary protector by the looks of him. Body armour, woven cap, an assault rifle in his hands and a string of grenades clipped to his belt. "Damn dragon... didn't say nothing about no dragon..." he muttered, frowning. He spat out an impressive gob of phlegm, and turned his eyes back to the mook sabateurs. "People, though... hmm... people I can handle..."

GM The Leprachaun gave a sour laugh. "Oh its a bit more complicated than that. And I don't understand it. This place is life... life squared. Life to the max. So vivid that it makes you sick, drives you mad. You won't get tired here, at least no physically. You won't die either, other than in your soul. Every inch, every second... squeezing life into you, until you are...." He smacked his fists into the tree trunk next to him. "SICK SICK SICK OF IT!" He took a deep breath in and continued. "You are a vessel. A very attractive vessel, given there are more than one of you. Music land can squeeze much more life into you than regular people. It loves twins, triplets, clones. Delicious. And before you think this place is roses and delightful, Music land doesn't much care for happiness or joy. the bacteria and virus here are ten times the potency. When I say you will get sick of this place, it wasn't just metaphorical. Disease is just more life." He gave a cough, spluterring out green phlegm that he wiped on his green linen. "The Duke though, he is dying. He wanted to get to this place. I was the door, and you were the key. Well, not you, but anyone who had.. ah... doubled up, so to speak. Your ten fingered friend back there is probably a delicacy, all those fingers plucking strings." The sun shone a little brighter, the rainbows looked a little more colourful, and the whole landscape looked like a nauseating pollock.

GM The Leprachaun stroked his orange beard. "Because of bad luck. Cursed rotten filthy wicked bad luck. Not that I am bitter or anything." He sighed and scowled simultaneously, then sneezed, and wiped his nose on on his sleeve. It was green, predictably. "Your friend the Duke is dying. He needs this place. This place is life, best way of putting it. Sounds and colours and even smells... you can smell it, can't you, life?" It was true - Musicland smelled of floral scents, cut grass, so rich that you could taste them. Some rich that it didn't feel normal - it was like some invisible hand was jamming a bottle of perfume up each nostril at the same time. "Disgusting, innit? Everything just so lively. it drives me mad. The Duke wanted this place to invigorate this place, and he paid me handsomely to get us all here. Because this place wanted you..."

GM The Choir Boy-Dog children layed around La Puma, knocked out. Her kindness had saved them from scars or blood. Juan didn't even pay his minions a second glance. He was now pale smoke like his candle fumes, laughing as he floated out of the Church. "Hahahaha! Smoked ya!" he hollered, the echo reverberating around the Church in quite a pleasant manner - that was, after all, what the architect had in mind. It was still dark outside, but the stars were out, and La Puma could see perfectly. Juan was slowly ascending, wafting up in the thin alleyway between the run down church and the delapitated "Bargain Busterz" warehouse-shop next door that looked like it had been abandoned in the 18th century and was still intact out of pure spite. The alley was narrow, the building maybe three stories high. And Juan was already at the first floor, at the level of a few cracked and flickering street lamps....

Yep we can KO those last two dog children And now the chase is on! Juan is in insubstantial 2 form, and in that form has flight 1 (25mph) - not fast, but he is ascending as per IC. the bigger problem is the insubstantial 2 so regular physical attacks wont affect him, just energy / AoE

If it comes to it taking 10 on a STR roll, or just plain inflicting Damage 8 (+2 for Super STR) on the bolt.

Rev "Its on!" Rev was battered and bruised, but still, this was a car chase! I mean, killing vampires was all good and groovy, but car chases were a different matter. "Fun!" There was however the matter of a the bolt on the tyre. That would slow the buggy down. A lot. She flexed her metal hands, put her boot on the tyre, and pulled, attempting to rip the thing clean off. "Hey Pete, gimme a hand will ya?" she yelled. Even if he was just about unconscious from blood loss... he could still be handy! "See if you can find a crowbar, or a hacksaw, or some kind of alien disintegrator beam. They are sure you have an alien disintegrator beam, right? I mean they are Vampire soldiers." It was a long shot, but you never knew...

Gamma Buzz There was, Baltazar "Baz" Botez, decided, simply no point to walking into the dorms. Not when one could crawl up the walls! There had to be some benefit to being a mutated radiaoctive insect-boy, and this was one of them. He could crawl up the walls to the window on the second floor, where he calculated his room would be. Now, of course, the real reason was that he didn't want everyone to look at him and laugh at the mutated radioactive insect boy. Logically, Lawrence had reassured him. But that was logic. Emotions were another thing, a repressed thing. A thing he could not acknowledge. So whilst he told himself it would be cool to crawl in through the window, he knew, deep down, it was to avoid stares. So he crawled in through the second window, his sorry looking backpack on his back, rather empty. A few t shirts, a few jeans, and an i player. Baz was not a rich man. But! He could fire laser beams out of his eyes, so who needed cash, anyway?

I doubt this will be pertinent, but Diamondlight will take 10 on Knowledge (Behavioural Sciences) to get 26. As that incorperates criminology I suppose it may come up with something pertinent about serial killers murdering underwater!

Echohead It was, thought Echohead, an entirely plausible story. One that he believed... but people could have multiple layers, multiple missions, multiple agenda's. "As Oscar Wilde said, the truth is rarely simple and never pure..." He sure hoped he got that the right way round. More beads of sweat formed on his brow as he started rolling it around his skull. Rarely simple, or rarely pure? Or the other way round? "And just who do you work for, hmmm? The mysterious men in the meeting? The goons in the gutter? The crooks in the...umm...the crooks in the..." He shook his hand, trying to shake something out. "The crooks in the curtains!" Dang, that's awful in the abettoir... He pressed on regardless. "Come on, spill the beans in the barbeque!" He winced at his own words, neck tendons standing out at the pure awfulness of his oratory. At least I have insight in the In... NO! STOP!

Diamondlight "Sure, I'm a cape. Don't wear a cape, unless its a gala." said August, with a smile and a scratch of his chin. "Kid's with me. Not sure if you can call him a kid anymore. But he's with me." he gave Luke a wink. "Good to meet you Ramsey, and you, Pascale. I'm no detective, but I am a concerned citizen. This murder spree is pretty gruesome.. must be a rancid meal to swallow even for experienced cops like yourselves. But I can't look away, not now. I got to look at myself in the mirror every morning, and the only way I can do that is knowing I helped in whatever way I can." August was not much of a smoker, bar the occasional cigar. He pulled one out, lit it, and passed it to Ramsey. "Looks like you could do with a good one, even if you are trying to quit..."

Rev "Cops, yeah, I mean no... no we don't want the Cops. Arson. Blood sucking. Lots of messy explanations they wont understand." Tucking Pete under one arm, she fired her own jets and followed the vampire out of the window. A puff of smoke, a misfire, and she landed outside. On one knee. In a rather cool pose, she had to admit. "Damn, I can't catch him like this," she said. "Too busted up from those bullets." She could fire the turbo-thrusters, but she wasn't entirely sure they would fire. And if the did fire, they would eat up her fuel fast. Or they might explode and take her legs off. That would really slow them down. She could see Paul in the night sky. Hot, like a red dot to her infrared vision. Tracking him would be relatively simple even at night... providing he didn't get too far away. She needed to catch up. She scanned the ground around her. "Now where did I leave my wheels..."