Supercape

That effect will hit all below with a DC 19 Reflex and then Will Save. They all fail the Reflex Save Some make the Will Save More specifically: One Thug holds his nerve, and One Sailor is Shaken, but holds his nerves. The Merc has fearless feat so immune.

Echohead Echohead flapped his fingers. He didnt really keep up with the news, not as much as he should. Especially if he wanted to be a super spy. He really wanted to be a super spy. But running his gardening shop was lovely too. And there was only so much time in the day. But he had heard of the robots. "So they have a nice little fledgling uptopia?" he asked the Redhead. "So what? A thousand such promises every day! Every political party, religion, movement... they all think they are the best. So what if a bunch of robots are following suit?" He paused. He wanted to get to the nub of this. "What's this got to do with you? You seem... ah... pretty invested in this. Not just handing out leaflets or posting on internet forums..." He was tempted to say something about a fiery redhead. But he imagined if he called her a fiery redhead she would probably act like one. And bite his head off. Or, given this was the world of superheroes and supervillains, he imagined her her read hair would turn into a strands of living fire and strangle him. He gulped at the thought, thought dry.

Limb time! Splitting arms (So she now has four): Her additional limb power! Detatching two arms to carry on driving: Anatomoic speration power! Extending arm to see if she can grab the other car: Elongation power! And taking 10 on driving for a 27 result if she needs it!

Rev "Plenty of room, plenty of room!" shouted Rev as she continued pushing the Dune Buggy to outrageous speed. "I mean, we are going so fast, we will just skim across the lake like a stone. Wait. Stone sink, don't they? Dang, that's a bad analogy. I mean... errrr.... we will go so fast we will just skip across the stone like a kung fu master. Yeah. That works. The mysterious mysteries of kung fu!" She liked old kung fu films. She could just seem the buggy dancing across Lake Michigan like a white bearded kung fu master, in a cracked film with faded colours and some blaring seventies dicso music. But unfortunately the Dune Buggy was not a jkung fu master, and no matter how fast they were going, they would sink. Rev didn't work well underwater. And Pere was barely working above water. She split her arms in two. Now, instead of two cyborg arms, she had four. "I'm gonna take the wheel!" she yelled to Pete. "Keep hold of my arms!" Two arms detatched, and continued steering. Rev Stood up in the Buggy, and extended one of her remaining arms, trying to reach the ghost police car... ...if it was actually real.

Rev "What the hell???" screamed Rev. "Possibly literally!" she added. It was shocking enough to see any car match the souped up Dune Buggy's speed - but... "Are we in some kinda B Movie?" At least they had not turned to sepia tones. If they were in a movie, it was a colour one. But it was existentially concerning! Where they in a movie? Where they just characters in a book? Or some kind of internet writing venture? Screw that! She gave a metaphorical finger to the writers of a story. Screw you, suckers! "Who the hell are you?" she shouted at the ancient police car. "I'd say start shooting!" she added, to Pete. "But I don't know what the hell you should be shooting at. Other than shoot for the moon. They say that, right? One of those motivational speeches?" She shook her head back to the present. "I said.... WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!" she shouted, even louder, at the police car.

Gamma Buzz "Gamma Buzz it is!" said Gamme Buzz, sticking to thumbs up. "Baltazar Botez. My friends call me Baz." God almighty, he isnt jumping out of his skin! Thought Baz. Sure, he had heard Lawrence's reassurances. But he had only half believed them, and even if he had believed them, experience was a whole different ball game. A half human, half cockroach superhero barely cause the bat of an eyelid! "Spaceman, is it? What does that mean? You control space? You come from space? You want to go to space?" asked Baz. "Say, if it comes to going to space, count me in! I mean, I kinda look like an alien already, right? Plus... its space! That's amazing, like amazingly amazing, and cool too!" His eyes widened. Lawrence? The Spaceman? Maybe I will actually see the stars!!! He cracked his knuckles. The advantage of armour plated skin was he could crack his knuckles real good. And they stopped bullets too, as a bonus. "What's your, err, real name? If you are allowed to say?"

Give me a DC 10 DEX roll to catch the stick, otherwise it will shoot another few dozen feet upwards! (and then fall)

GM La Puma could jump up the buildings like a feline superhero - with grace, speed, and penache. She was faster that the smoke plume of Juan, but she would be running out of building floors soon. Two more stories, then the roof, then the open moonlit sky. Through the hot night air, the Cantos Devil stick flew. Tazel called out, a touch of glee in his voice, a note of cruel and bitter victory. "Catch!" he called, as the Devil stick was lobbed into the air. Was it Tazel, or was it the stick itself? Or some other force? Who could tell? But it shot into the the reach of La Puma. "The Devil stick can hurt anybody, anything!" called Tazel. "Wicked, it is! Ghosts, demons, or cowardly sorcerors who turn into plumes of smoke to run away from their rightful destiny of being burned alive! Hahahahaha! Got you now, Juan!" Of course, catching the Devil stick as it flew upwards, inbetwixt two buildings and just out of reach was another matter...

Absolutely fine!

Echohead Echohead paused. This woman was believable; or at least he believed she believed what she was saying. He flapped his fingers, trying to peel apart the web of subterfuge. "Wait... robots who breed?" Was she a robosexual? Wait... was she a robot too? "You mean as in uuuh-uuuh thingy dirty squelshy breed? Or they just build more copied of themselves?" He really didnt want to think about the mechanics of bio-mechanical sexual breeding. He decided to take a risk, and untied her. "You better not try anything... ah... with me..." he said, red faced. "I warn you! I know karate!" He didn't know karate, but hopefully he could copy the head of someone who did. Wait... I should have done that first....

Notice 18

GM Meanwhile... On Deck... A fire fight had started. Fortunately, given the explosives, not a literal fight with fire. Pyeow. Pyeow-Pyeow! Ratatatatatat! Small arms fire. Flashes of light from the decks, behind the cargo crates. Most of it from the handguns of the thugs and the sailors. A few booms from the shotguns. And the assault rifle fire of the Mercenary. He knew what he was doing-his fire was accurate. Beanpole-the tall, thin thug of Blowfish-caught a bullet and screamed, clutching his guts and collapsing. Nightscale could smell the blood. Then, the Mercenary threw a grenade. Not explosive, gas. Thick lurid purple smoke filled the air, obscuring the deck from the view of both Nightscale and Chimera, and for that matter the sailors and thugs below. Nobody knew what they were firing at, although a few panicked souls still fired off random pot shots, in the hope of getting lucky.

For reference just activating Illusion 11 to create some copies of Luke Its only visual so that might be a problem.

Diamondlight "Light Shennanigans?" Maybe? August could create light, not eliminate it. He could even bend it around his own body-but his own body was different. A body charged up with Daka energy. He couldn't make someone else invisible. As far as he knew. Maybe... if he bust his brain and blood doing it. "Can't hide you. Not exactly..." A copy of Nightscale appeared next to him. Then another, then another. In a moment, Luke was surrounded by a half dozen exact copied of Nightscale. "But maybe some camouflage?" said August. "At least if anyone takes pot shots at you, it won't be you they shoot at. I mean, hopefully. Bit of a gamble, but if I recall, you like the throw of the dice?" It was the best he could do. It certainly loaded the dice in Luke's favour.

Boost 4 (All Mechanical Effects, Feats: Selective, Slow Fade 4 [1 Hour], Flaws: Others Only) [13 PP] “Rev Engine!” (Mechanical, Cybernetic) Applying to Car to move from Speed 5 to Speed 9! (250mph to 5000mph!) although feel free to use the complication to break or burn out or otherwise screw the car over from that boost. Technically also would increase STR of vehicle by +10 (2 Ranks Super STR) and Supermovement 2 to Supermovement 4 (no impair movement) but doubt those will apply. Also if Pete did pick up a handgun Rev will boost that (e.g. Blast 5 to Blast 7) but the same complication would arrise.

Rev "Oh shoot, the Cops! And Bedlam Cops too!" Rev muttered and drummed the steering wheel. "Not ideal. Very far from ideal. Light year from ideal. Maybe a couple of light years from ideal with intergalactic space mines literring the space between ideal and their present situation. Intergalactic space mines. They sound cool." "Buckle up, Bronco, we need some speeeeeeeeeed!" She stuck one of her hands on the dashboard of the car and felt the biomechanical virus stream from fingertips to engine! Burp, whizz, boom! Time to boost the engine! the bumper buckled as the engine sort to grow out of its confines. The wheels screeched and spun, the exhaust flamed and let loose a stream of acidic smoke. "Lets go get em, baby!" She glanced over at Pete. "Didn't you get one of their guns? Pyeow Pyeow-Pyeow! Cops and Robbers? C'mon we could be Bonnie and Clyde!" Of course that was playground antics. Real bullets really killed real people. But Rev didn't want to think about that now. Or ever, come to think of it.

GM The Leprachaun duly followed, back into the "room" the Duke had rented. Inside, it was pretty much as it had been back on Earth. But it's smells were far more vivid. Footsteps sounded like musical drums, and even the rise and fall of chests-breathing-had a sort of whistling melody. The air seemed to shimmer with colour, with every previously dull or faded tone now bright and vibrant. "What the devilly devil is going on!" proclaimed the Duke, shaking himself free from his doze. "I do feel quite invogorated, I do!" he said, taking a deep breath in through his nostrils and wearing a wide grin. "Havent felt this well in a hundred years! Must be the air, or maybe the music!" The air was fresh, and there was a sound in the distance. The sound of some dark opera starting up, full of low strings and sombre, ominous chords. "Ya know bloody well where you are, you toff!" said the Leprachaun, spitting out some green phlegm. It was very green, too. Lurid, even. "And now we have this bloody place come to keep us from leaving. I'd advise you all to stuff your ears. Its the music of this place... it gets to ya!"

Shaking off the Stun ably - So Nightscale is up and has Chimera on his back and explosives on the ship below:D

GM "Key? Dimension? What the hell are you talking about?" asked Summer, eyes widening in utter incredulity. "But..." She sniffed the air. "This place does feel strange... like the smell crawls up your nose. I can practically taste the air... like strawberies and flowers and a vindaloo curry all at the same time..." "Musicland? So what, we played music to get here? How the hell do we get back? Play our songs in reverse?" She gave a look at the Duke. "And is that fat man why we are here?" Meanwhile "If you can get back, ill kiss yer backside till it black from bruises" laughed the Leprachaun. It was not a particularly jocular laugh - it was the kind of laugh that a dirty vase of sour vinegar would give. "But that's the problem, isn't? Cost me a thousand bad fortunes to get back last time, and that cos some damn pixie stumbled in to my dimension with some magic box. Now that's not going to happen again, I'm sure. But as I understand it, if you enter or leave this foul world you do somehow become a portal. So maybe me, maybe you, maybe someone or something can open the door. But..." A series of sharp evil chords ripped through the air like alarm bells. There was the taste of drooling saliva in the air. "But... Musicland doesn't like to let go of its guests. Its got... antibodies, you could call them. And I think they are coming..."

Ill see what Ari has as response to Capt Cosmos query to the burning lady

[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!