Supercape

Gamma Buzz "Generic morphic molecules, eh? Maybe Ill get me a super suit one day! Orange, I think. That's a cool colour, right?" Did orange spandex and green armour plates go? Baltazar had no idea, but it sounded cool. Besides, who would notice? he would probably be spending his super hero time patrolling the dimly lit or totally dark tunnels of the subways and sewers of Freedom City. A far cry from warping oneself through space and time. Baltazar tried to grapple with the concept. Dinosaurs! Aliens! Ninja Cyborgs of Zuzu from the 53rd century! The possibilities were infinite. Quite possibly literally. "Sounds like you got a lot of exploring to do! If you ever want company, count me in. I am guessing I wont look so odd to the Ninja cyborg aliens of Zuzu, or at least no more odd than you, eh?" What do aliens look like anyway? Baltazar cracked his knuckles. Partially because he wanted to show he was up for business, up for adventure, up for a fight. But mainly because one of the many amazing things about being a half insect was that his knuckles cracked in a loud and pleasing way. "Do we get field trips? I guess you are the man to go to, eh?"

Also, forgot to mention, could you throw me a DC 10 Auditory Notice roll? -2 penalty for range.

Gamma Buzz "What do you do then? Freeze time? Speed it up? Wrap it round your little finger and admire your orouboros ring? Hey.... that would be cool, right? An orouroboros ring, maybe you could make that in a craft class? And put your supersuit in it! You could do that, right? Don't they have atomic suits or something that can shrink?" He paused. Maybe he should get a super suit. T shirt and jeans wasn't exactly super, but it was all he could afford. And besides, its not like he would ever have a secret identity. Some small, battered part of his brain told him to be proud of what he was, to own it. As usual, the brutal part of his brain - the ashamed one - gave the proud part of his brain the battering of a lifetime and told it to shut the hell up or there would be trouble. "I can see it now! A slick super suit with a clockface logo! or a stopwatch, right? What's your favourite colour? What colour is time, anyway? Does it have a colour? Blue? Pink? Purple?"

Give me a WIS DC 10 Check

GM The Duke drummed his chin with short fingers - not a pianists fingers, the astute might note, but perhaps they were sufficiantly nimble to dance around the keyboard. Fall all his portly, short build, the Duke seemed to have an air of elegant grace. A dancer, perhaps? "I do not know if it is ready for you. But perhaps you are the ones to make it ready?" he concluded, wearing a thoughtful smile. "I would offer to be your patron, but alas, as much as I appreciate music, I have no head for business, law, administration. Pfft! Paperwork, paperwork, paperwork! The bane of the twentieth century. And now, I hear we have spreadsheets on computers! Woe! Lamentations! Wretched computers compounding the misery!" He shook his head. "No, I am a scientist, an artist, a philosopher! A man of the Renaissance! I will not drown my sould in paperwork!" he said with defiance and pride. He sighed, shoulders sagging. "But alas, I am depleted of energy. Not the man I was, I daresay. I need something to rejuvinate me. Maybe you!... but I digress.... there is something more important afoot..." Bernadette felt it again, that spike in the ether, that pulling. "Beyond my scientific mind" explained the Duke. "Something attracting me, like a black hole, tugging at my spirit. Something in the music? Can you feel it? What do you make of it? Did you come here of your own free will, or... something else? Maybe something pulled you in, something unconscious... hmmm...."

Gamma Buzz "Good news!" Baz wondered about the electronics. Perhaps if some key components went "missing"... who would notice? he could build his own transmitter! His mind danced around the risks, the ethics... but inside he felt his half-insect intestines quiver with excitement. My own transmitter! Broadcasting the sounds of the subway! Bringing fat beats and conpsiracy the--- I mean truths to the public! He wondered what Lawrence would think of such well intentioned but naughty activity. Kind of well-intentioned, anyway. -ish. "And what are you doing here? Learning how to control your powers? Bringing down despots and masterminds around the world? Timeout! The Terror of Tyrants! I can see it now! Maybe you need some entrance music!"

Echohead Echohead adjusted his tie. He didn't like ties, but he felt he had to wear one. He worried some thug might grab it and strangle him. Stop it! You are a damn superhero! You could freeze him on the spot! That's what he told himself. That's what he told his fibrillating heart and sweat soaked skin. But the truth was, he needed to be extra vigilant - for without his armoured suit he was vulnerable. Have to stay alert! He took another sip from his espresso cup. A double. Fortunately Echohead was not limited to his eyes - he could feel all the brains around him, ripe for the plucking if need be. And in the back of his skull, he could feel the agent, insidiously letting him where to look, what to study, looking for bulges in jackets, or suspicious briefcases. The Talon guys looked heavy duty, and dangerous. Were they thugs in uniforms, or uniformed thugs? Well - that wasn't a question, he realised. He had made his mind up already... was it childhood bullying? He decided to strike up a conversation with the nearest one. "Nice suit..." He started. Not the best opening gambit, he thought, but at least innocuous.

Can I take 10 / 20 for that? If not: 11 for escape artist and/or [url=https://orokos.com/roll/985438]STR[/url]: [u]1d20+11[/u] [b]16[/b] for STR

Gamma Buzz "Great!" Baz wasn't good at hope. He was positive, but the kind of positive that was determined to make the best of living in a septic tank. Not the kind of hope that one could crawl out of it. Those hopes, he felt, were the ones that got dashed. Those hopes were the one that stopped your dealing with the mountain of manure that was life. He didn'd dare dream of ascending. He dreamed of a shovel. But this... this sounded hopeful. A hope he could dare believe in, even if he must mute it. "Like, real stuff? I mean, who pays for it? What if I break it? Can I keep it? What can I do with it?" He gabbled. But would Lawrence know? Lawrence probably had a much better chance of knowing than Baz did. Baz was feeling progressively like a hunter-gatherer with a spear and net having an encounter with a field of wheat, a plough, and a tractor. This wasn't something he had a map for.

GM "Ah yes, do forgive me, madam. Summer, is it? And well you are named, because you are like sunshine painted onto a Turnereaque sky. Quite wonderful. Now, forgive my fabulous fascination, but.. Claremont, is it? What can you do?" Summer blushed, and held out both hands. In but the bat of an eye, the fingers split in 'twain and she held twenty digits aloft. The Duke raised his eyebrows. In another moment, the fingers came off her hands, spiralled around Summer and Bernadette and the Duke himself, and then promptly reattached themselves to her hands. This time the Duke gasped and clapped his hands. "Magnificent! Why, you two will be the musical duo of the age - I am quite sure. Tell me, have you any thought to what you might call yourself? Perhaps you need a percussionist, or a piano master! Why, I have been known to dabble on the ivory myself, quite the amateur, though hahaha!"

Gamma Buzz Baz breathed a sigh of relief. Lawrence had not recoiled - and offered reassurance that Claremont was the place to be. The long and horrific journey from Mexico was worth it. The smuggling, the dealing with smugglers. The only good thing had been crawling through the dark and dusty tunnels. There, Gamma Buzz was in his elements. "Well, I came to the right place then!" he said, sticking two thumbs up. At least I still have thumbs. Sure, only three fingers. But opposable thumbs are handy. "Yeah. I dug around the trash a lot, growing outside Mexico City. I'm a scavanger. Built my own radio from scraps. Fuzzy and static, but it worked. Kind of..." He shrugged. He wasn't the sharpest tool in the box - especially not amongst the super geniuses of Freedom City, but he wasn't stupid, either. He hadn't gone to school much, but he had picked up a practical skill or two." "I'm not good at maths. But I know my way around a tool box. I should probably try and get a bit better. Computers, too. Need to know my way around them. I want to set up a Radio station eventually.... I don't have the face for TV!"

GM Juan needed little encouragement to wince in fear. La Puma could, at the moment, have threatened him with a feather duster and made him pass out. Teeth, claws - they were more than up to the job. The priest stopped, clutching his bible tighter, holding his eyes slightly wider. Tazel was in the ether, invisible, although he still whispered in La Puma's ear. "Have care! I cannot enter a holy place... if he sanctifies this building I will be ejected... I do not know why I can enter this place at all - someone has defiled it, I think..." "I halt" said the priest, voice trembling but laced with boldness - was it faith? was it desperation? something propelled him, something made his brow swim in sweat. "But you must tell me, what transpires here? This is a holy place, and I will not see it maligned by intent or by action. Tell me! What is going on here? It does not smell good, it leaves a taste of... sulfur in the mouth!"

Rev Rev instantly knew the situation was not good. No, not good at all. She and Pete were blood bags for a gang of vampires. Well, it was Bedlam city. Sooner or later some bloodsuckers were going to turn up. In fact, it was probably good they chose Bedlam - at least they would be feeding on the fungating scum and villainy that circulated the streets. But - but that wasn't good enough. There were plenty of good souls trying to shine in the tsunami of silage that was Bedlam city. "Too much fat is bad for you..." she mumbled. Fat... oil... it all sounded vaguely biochemically correct. But she was struggling to keep her eyes open. "Got any asprin, Pete? I got a devil of a headache..." There was at least a glimmer of hope. The guard was occupied. She detatched her arms from her body. They were still connected via electro-radio mechawaves - and she tried to force her detatched arms to crawl out of the leather straps...

GM "It don't look like much. A shack between Wharton Forest and the sea. Well, ain't exactly a shack, I suppose. More of a barn. Plenty of space, but nothing fancy. No pillars of marbles..." Grabber Gibbons stopped to consider, allowing some rare and precious intelligence to seep into his brain which was quite unused to the sensation. "I mean. It could have frikkin laser beam cannons as a defence. I don't know. I just picked up the drill-suit from there. He wanted money, and he wanted to test drive his invention. He was a bit of a nerd. Barely spoke to me, thick glasses, and ten computer screens. Or about ten. I didn't count em, not exactly." An observer might wonder if Grabber Gibbons could count at all, the way his fingers fluttered in the effort of simple maths. "But I guess he was more contraptions. Right? Maybe we could steal em!"

Gamma Buzz "I'm adjusting fine; the question is - is Freedom City adjusting to me?" he said with a shrug, looking away. He couldn't technically blush with green skin laced with armour plates. But he could sure look like he was blushing. The statement was a mix of bravado and shame. Like most bravado, it was birthed in shame. Perhaps arrogance? Baltazar didn't know for sure, but he knew he didn't like to dwell on introspection. It was a dirty and painful business. He risked a small glimmer of honesty. "I mean, I don't look like someone its easy to adjust to, do I? Most people would think I crawled out of a gutter having drunk some insect-enlarging nuclear waste. Or something like that. Gotta say, it can suck..." That was a bit to honest. A bit to raw. He backpedalled. "...But then, I can climb walls and shoot frikkin' laser beams out of my eyes. So I am a cool superhero, too!"

GM The duke clapped his hands in delight. "Bravo! So the rumours are true! I suspected as much! Quite the smorgesbord of talent you have there, madam! I can only imagine the sound of a choir of you. A choir! The harmonies! I would pay good money to hear that!" He tapped his chin twice, bringing up the sound in his imagination. "Yes indeed. And as it turns out I have a lot of money. Some of it good, some of it bad. But it all pays the bills!" he added, with a wink. "I could fly you both to the Sistene Chapel! Can you imagine the sound? I would get on my knees and pray, so I would..." He shook himself out of his vision. "Now tell me, why did you come? There is something about this whole event that has some curious magnetism, does it not? Speak plain and true, now. I have felt. Like an itching in my heart. Something that needs to be scratched..."

Gamma Buzz "Hola Hola!" Baz dropped from the ceiling into what he hoped was a cool posture, arms open wide, feet akimbo, cheeky smile on his face. It was a calculated move, but he was agile enough to pull it off. Anything to detract from the shock. "Baltazar Botez. Everyone calls me Baz. Also known as Gamma Buzz, also known as Cockroach Kid!" He gave an extravagant bow and a little flurry of his feet. "Lawrence Harrow, I pressume? What do I call you? Seeing as we are going to be room mates in a few weeks?" Behind his back, Baz crossed two of his three stocky fingers. He just hoped that Lawrence wouldn't about face. If Baz was being logical, he would have deemed it unlikely given their correspondence. But still, fear usually overpowered logic. Baltazar Botez didn't want to be alone.

Gamma Buzz Bzzzzz! It passed the time. Buzzing, that was. Baz was more than anxious about meeting Lawrence. He clicked his three fingers on his two arms, tugging and pulling them. A good looking boy with money. What a lucky swine! Baltazar was a half cockroach boy with barely a dollar to his name. Still, it was better than living in the sewers. Which he had had to do on a few nights since he and his sister arrived in Freedom City. She was still scratching a living cleaning the subways. But better than that be a mutant horror like Gamma Buzz, the Cockroach kid! Maybe I can fleece this Lawrence for a few dollars... Desperate times, desperate measures. To give Lawrence his due, he hadn't thrown up and backed out when he had seen Gamma Buzz. So credit to him. I'm a superhero... I can blast out laser beams from my eyes! he reminded himself. He had to remind himself that his appearance had also granted him super powers; that he could be somebody important, not an urchin playing in waste disposal grounds, like he had in Mexico. He had to remember that. "Dang! I can't wait!" he grumbled, leaping to ceiling and crawling along, out of his room and into the corridor. Quiet, silent, hard to see. But now he would get a good look at Lawrence as he strolled down the corridor....

It feels as if the Duke is very interested in you both, and genuinely enjoyed your music. You cant sense anything malign (at this point!).

Captain Cosmos Buddy Brand new the latest political strife in Kuzovlakistan. He understood the theo-political turbulance of South America and the economic flux caused by global AI adapting to linked global electronic markets. He hadn't got a clue what all those symbols meant. Other than the universal scream of "EVIL!" They certainly didn't look good. And no normal ship would have such eldritch symbols painted onto its bow. But by who? Was this ship even of this world? He rose from the sea, dripping brine, and pulling off some seaweed from his cape. He hovered a moment, a dozen feet above the waves, surveying the ship once again. The phrase Ghost ship came to mind, although the ship was undeliably palpable. But maybe he wasn't totally off mark. He flew onto the deck of the ship, and started to march up to the bridge. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be the captain. Or more precisely, the captains log book!

I think thats Rev - 2 HP - Bruised/Injured x3, Staggered, Disabled? (I preusme they were lethal)

Rev "Oh shoot...." muttered Rev as she saw the troopers. This was a bit heavy, even for her. She expected some kind of resistance. Some kind of squad. Maybe with rifles. And human. Now she was facing riot armour, tactical assault rifles, and whatever Vampiric power these goons had. Where they all vampires? Was Pete one, too...? The bullets clanged against her metal limbs, and her subdermal plates. Skin - both artificial and human, ripped off her body. She could smell both blood and engine oil. Even some ozone from sparking wires. "Fireball whizz...." she muttered, pulling her hand back to release that very fireball whiz. And the final bullet struck her on the head, clanging againt metal in her skull, and the blackness crash in. She was falling... "Fireball whizz will sort you out..." she mumbled, lying on the floor, dazed and confused, before she fell unconscious...!

GM The Duke stroked his elegant white beard, contemplating Bernadette with small and deep eyes. "I should say refined is an understatement. There is something celestial about your voice. Celestial and Infernal too - after all what really is the difference?" He turned to Summer, studying her fingers. "And you?" Summer cracked her fingers and shrugged. "Just a gift... and practice...." The Duke continued stroking his beard and studying the two. "Claremont academy you say? The prep school? Interesting. I have heard many rumours about it. I do hope they are true!" He smiled - it looked like a full, genuine smile. "I shouldn't be pressurising you. But you are both sparkling delights. If you could ah... how would you put it..." he tapped his fingers. "Dare to show your other talents, this evening would be the greatest in the century!" His eyebrows raised in humour and appreciation, wiggling with anticipation. Summer Sands looked at Bernadette for the lead, wriggling and squirming with the prospect.

Those are some powerful guns1 (Blast 10?) Anyway [url=https://orokos.com/roll/984958]Tough Saves[/url]: [u]5#1d20+9[/u] [b]19[/b] [b]29[/b] [b]19[/b] [b]24[/b] [b]10[/b] So if you add the rolling effect of bruises / injuries (is it lethal?) Then Dazed Injury Made Another Injury Another Injury And final roll is 7 which is a fail by 20 so KO, Disabled, Stagged, Injured x4 (And presumably an HP for the KO?)

GM Summer nodded. For all her incredible dexterity and musical acumen, for all her exuberance on the stage, she was awkward and shy. Now she wasn't performing, it looked like she was floundering in the attention, the crowd, the heat. More than floundering - drowning. The Duke took her hand and she held it like a life raft. He lead her through the crowds to the VIP suite backstage. Although Bernadette and Summer could still hear the applause, the din of the crowds, it was muted here. The Duke had decorated his room elegantly, a few trappings to tell a tale of his background, his nature. A couple of books on the law, on the occult, and on genetic biochemistry - this was a man of wide interests, it seemed. A hat, a coat - purple, aged, well maintained. Some tupilps flowering in water. A bottle of champagne that he dutifuly opened, and poured into crystal glasses. He offered one each to Bernadette and Summer, drinking none for himself. He seemed more intent on admiring and studying the two of them. For her part, Summer took the glass and drank. Her hand shook slightly - adrenaline at work. "Now, ladies, you must tell me. From whence comes your musical gifts? Beethoven himself would be turning green with envy, methinks..."