Supercape

More than enough!

Its chase time! To start off, lets have a DC10 Escape Artist Check to squeeze through. If you cant make that, Grabber will be out of eyeshot. DC 20, and you can start making ground catchiung up as you pop through like a greased eel. Anything else, the chase will continue topside.

GM Grabber was a large man, but the tunnel was larger. For some reason, he seemed to scrabble up the tunnel with remarkable agility - perhaps he was more comfortable on four limbs than two, given the expanse of his midriff. Perhaps it was that he was not merely fat, but under that adipose tissue lay generous amounts of muscle. Out of shape, perhaps. Because he started breathing hard, started sweating. Luke tore the golden exoskeleton aside with effort. It was jammed in, and the only way he could squeeze past was by both breathing in and beding solid gold bars.. ...and even then there was a hideous chance he would get stuck! And the clock was ticking... "You belch-bottom!" yelled Grabber down the tunnel. the light may not have penetrated far, but the walls of the tunnel carried sound, and echoes, extremely well. "You know how much gold that is? I can split it with you.... fifty fifty!" The yell was from the top of the tunnel, street level, and interspaced with violent pants. Grabber Gibbons was out of breath, but nearly out of the tunnel. And Luke was trying to squeeze, stretch, and squash....

Nice!

GM Bzzzzzzzt! As soon as Luke touched the exoskeleton, sparks flew! And electric shock, like a taser, ran up Lukes hand, tingling all the nerves. "What? What?...." gasped Grabber Gibbons. He started to run - a clumsy affair in the exoskeleton, and even more clumsy now... for the entire machine had turned to gold! In but a second the whole thing had ground to a halt. Even with Grabber's prostigious size and equally prostigious strength, he could not make the machine move. It was out of power. Although arguably, now it was solid gold, he had even more loot to play with. With a grunt of effort, he managed to bend the arms to the solid gold "EMERGENCY RELEASE" handle, and unlock the bars that held him in the machine. He fell flat on his face, starting to crawl away. And maybe he would do so - although without his prize. the golden machine blocked the tunnel in between Luke and Grabber Gibbons. And now they were almost in complete darkness, for the exterior lights of the exoskeleton had gone out. They just the faint street lights fifty feet away from them, shining down the tunnel and glinting on the newly minted gold!

Aweome rolls! Now lets see if Gibbons can avoid the transform with a DC check [url=https://orokos.com/roll/984074]Reflex[/url]: [u]1d20+6[/u] [b]14[/b] Nope! the Exoskeleton is turned to gold! (until you drop sustained effect) However, on the down side, the suit has (or rather, had) an electric defence system (Stun 5 Aura) So thats a DC 15 Fortitude Save or stunned! If you are stunned, DC 19 Concentration check to avoid the Transform dropping.

STR roll [url=https://orokos.com/roll/984033]STR roll[/url]: [u]1d20+11[/u] [b]24[/b] [url=https://orokos.com/roll/984034]Notice[/url]: [u]1d20+4[/u] [b]10[/b] for notice

GM Jaun recoiled in fear, his arms reaching over to cover his pale face. "Ah..Ah-Ah...Ah..." he gibbered, lost for words, only able to croak out some gibberish, his throat like sand from fear. "What is this?" It was a deep, melodic voice, one that La Puma Recognised. The priest who had greeted her in the church at the start of this infernal, canine, candlestine tale! He held in his hands a bible, clutching like a shield and a saviour. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes wide, his black clothes and white neckpiece quite in place. "This is a house of God! What is going on here? Devil-worship? Satanism? Do not mistake my modern outlook - such practice deserves old school action!"

GM "Excellent!" hissed Tazel, his fiery mouth appearing in the air for a moment. "You know, my delicious huntress, you are not so bad after all. You know what the value of freedom is!" With a fiery puff of smoke, another portal appeared.... ...and with another puff of smoke, all three were back in the Church from whence they came. Silent, ghostly, glinting with moonlight through the stained glass. Tazel sounded tired. His fire was diminished, like a thin candle when previously it had been fatter, stronger. The exertion of such magic was a drain... "Well, here we are.... I am... diminished... " he said, even his voice feeble now. Juan shuffled up to La Puma like a crab and whispered in her ear... "Now's our chance.. he is weak, and we have the devil stick! Lets destroy him once and for all!" The candles still burned, and the pale smoke still plumed, wafting in resonance with every melodic note of Juan's whisper... Outside, the howl of dogs pierced the silence.

An aguished deal with the devil to save the children? Well then, I think that means La Puma Negra - Unharmed - 4 HP Count em! Four!

Echohead Plainclothes? Plainclothes it was. Which means no bulletproof cool black suit. Echohead stuffed it in a over-the shoulder scuffed bag, along with his variable pistol. Instead, he wore completely unremarkable t shirt and cords. Like any innocuous tourist. His shades, he left on. Bald, short, and ugly, he would still stand out and attract a few gazes. But nobody would peg him as a superhero. Quite the opposite, in fact. He shuddered. He felt exposed without his suit. It was not merely it was made of impervium alloy weave and could stop a bullet in its track - although that was exposing enough. It was psychological, too. With it on, he felt like a cool superhero. Without it, he was plain old Umberto, with a face that seemed to attract bullies from across the continent - or further. He pressed his hands to his bald scalp. He had a headache. He hoped it wasn't a migraine. He had spent the last few days using Captain Scarletts skills in gossip. Innocuously asking the right people around town the right questions. Who were the Iron Talon? What was the word on them? What secrets did they hide? Umberto didn't trust them. They seemed a bit to much like jumped up pseudo nazi's with boots and guns. But Umberto was a paranoid soul. He rubbed his head again. The headache was getting worse...

Echohead will spend a bit of time Gathering Information with his spiffy new skill: [url=https://orokos.com/roll/983955]Gather Information[/url]: [u]1d20+12[/u] [b]26[/b] Looking at Restricted information (DC 20) - whats the gossip / rumours on the Iron Talon... (I presume its restricted but feel free to correct me / fiat / etc!)

I tink with a bit of rest the fatigue can go, plus the injuries. Plus we can award an HP for heroically looking after Beanpole! Chimera - 3 HP

GM A while later.... It was almost sunrise - and one of the tired doctors came looking for Chimera, drinking a hot coffee in an attempt to stay awake. "You... you came in with that guy, what's his name? Beanpole. Mr B Pole. That's the only name he gave..." He scratched his neck. "Look, he got bit. Human bite marks. That's assault, but its not a gunshot wound so I dont need to inform the police. He will be ok. Gave him the shots, no infection. I mean, I hope no infection. What was it? Drunken brawl? Rabies? He kept saying a zombie bit him, but... well, I suppose this is Freedom City so we have had stranger things than Zombies. Why, once I had this guy hit by a pinkinator beam, and... umm, yeah that's another story,..." He shook his brain to wake up. "Anyway, I skipped the necromancy classes at med school. But as far as I can tell he will be fine. Course of five days prophylactic antibiotics to be on the safe side, and a couple of scars to show the grand kids, but he will be fine. At least physically. I think the shock has stunned him a bit. Has he got somewhere safe to go home to, someone to keep an eye on him?"

GM "In Shock? I'm not in Shock? I'm perfectly healthy for a zombie! You ever treated a zombie before, doc? Well now's your chance. I'm a zombie, and furthermore, a zombie is what I am! Yessir, one hunded percept zombie, zero percent alive! If you test my blood, you will find I have very high levels of Zombium. Whee!" The doctor nodded sagely whilst checking Beanpoles pulse. "Sir, you have a pulse." "A pulse?" answered Beanpole. "You mean, a real pulse? a pulse that pulses? like a pulse?" The doctor rolled his eyes. "A pulse that is like a pulse. Exactly like a pulse, in fact." "Then I am... alive?" "Yes, sir. I have checked your life levels and I can confirm you are alive. Now perhaps we should take a look at that bite and give you a few blood tests, maybe some antibiotics!" Beanpole staggered left and right in shock. Now that he knew he was alive, he suddently became aware of his gangly limbs and they, unusued to such scrutiny, started an unruly protest. The doctor and paramedic had to garb his arms to stabilise him and lead him into the hospital. "Come check on me, Chimera!" yelled Beanpole as he dissapeared through the front doors of the hospital.

GM "Whee! am I dead? I'm flying! Whee!" Beanpoles adrenaline and shock mixed together and curdled his brain. His long, gangly limbs flailed around like a windmill in a storm. It was all to much for him, and he entered some manic dissociated state. A delerium. Relax, that was beyond him. But he appeared to be so flush with shock that he enjoyed it. "Wheeee!" That was about all his flabbergasted mouth could manage until Chimera set down outside the ER of Freedom Hospital. "Awwww...." His dissapointment was palpable. A couple of doctors and nurses rushed out with a trolley to see what was up - even in Freedom City, a winged superhero doesn't set down outside the hospital every day of the week. And when they did, it usually meant something serious. "I'm a zombie! I'm a zombie! Wheee!" explained Beanpole, eyes wide, pupils dilated. One of the doctors raised his eyebrows and gave an inquisitive look to Chimera. "A zombie? Really? Looks like someone snorted something a bit funny up their nose to me...."

GM Beanpole yelped slightly when Chimera touched his arm, but soon managed to impress his goon-persona over his anxiety. "Everyone calls me Beanpole. Guess you can, too, Mis C. I mean, I am pretty tall, huh?" Indeed he was. He neglected to add that he was also thin. The Police were on their way after the 911 call. The Graveyard was perhaps five or ten minutes away from the patrol cars, who were not exactly sure what they were dealing with? Prank call, Zombie apocalypse, or something inbetween. Unbeknownst to Chimera, the Police Station had put wagers on what had happened. And made sure the two patrol cars had flamethrowers, silver bullets, and chainsaws. And the police wore helmets and padded armour. "I mean, I'm not sure I wanna hang around for da cops" lamented Beanpole, shuffling from one foot to another. "Dey ain't ever been so friendly, not unless we pay 'em, and I ain't got no ker-ching to hand. They see bit, with my rap sheet, dey gonna shoot first and not bother with questions at all, knowhaddimean?" Beanpole drilled a thin and bony finger into the centre of his forehead to emphasise the point.

GM The tunnel was roughly hewn and jagged, but easy enough to travel down. Light streamed down the slope, faint but present. The colour of the city. Luke could the sound of lapping waves, the rumble of night time traffic. The tunnel must have been drilled down from the shoreline. Ahead, he could hear the crunch crunch steps of a lumbering figure. A big figure, a big shadow. With every step, the figure made a whirring sound. The figure dragged, via a metal cord, a huge sack of gold. Luke could hear the clinking of gold on gold - and the sack was brimming so much that every few steps a gold bar would fall loose onto the tunnel floor. As he got closer, Luke could see the figure more clearly - although the figure could not see Luke. No eyes on the back of the head, and too engaged in his task. And besides, Luke was as quiet as a mouse with woolen slippers. The figure? None other than a sweating Grabber Gibbons... Around his huge body was an exoskeleton of wires and poles - like a cage. Except the cage moved, powered by advanced power cells on its back. Grabber Gibbons was already a strong man, but with the exoskeleton frame round his body, he was clearly massively strong. And his hands? Two giant claws, claws that could spin and rotate so fast that they could drill through solid rock!

Very nice

SUPER POWERED BY THEV Making a few adjustments to Captain Cosmos 4 PP to spend Changing Super Strength power to Strength: Linked Enhanced Strength 26 (feats: Affect Insubstantial 2, Dimensional 2) with Super Strength 3 (+15 effective strength, Feats: Shockwave) (30+7=37 PP][Dimensional] i.e. Spending 4 PP to get the Affect Insubstantial and Dimensional 2 feats applied to strength Which means 4 PP free to transdimensional alt form (as no longer needs those feats), buying an extra 2 ranks of Super movement with those PP to get Space Travel 2. Also removing the detect dimensional super sense as I think I would prefer to be without it. Which looks like Alt Form: Transdimensional (Bypass normal dimensional contraints) (14+10=24 PP) Supermovement 7 (Dimensional 2 [Alternate Dimensiona], Space Travel 2 [Slow Interstellar], Permeate 3 [Full speed]) [14 PP] Supersenses 8 (Visual Penetrates [4], Auditory Penetrates [4], Feats: Dimensional 2) [10 PP] And finally changine the antidimensional power as trip is just super annoying Alt Form: Antidimensional (Flipped dimensions!) [20+ 1 = 21 PP] Protection 0 (Extras: Impervious 10, Reflection 10) [20 PP] Alternate Power to Flight: Burrow 6 (50mph, Extras: Penetrating) [1 PP]

GM "Yer know, fer a cape, pffft, you ain't half bad. Yer ain't half bad at all. Yer git some common pfft sense after all..." Blowfish actually gave her a salute. "I tip my pfffy hat to ya" He turned to face the carnage around him. Whatever else was going to happen, a lot of people would have a lot of digging to do. "Lets go guys, we got a city to run! pffft...." He turned his eyes to Chimera. "I mean.. pfft... we got a city to be respectable citizens in. And don't forget, silver girl, half price at da pfffy pizza palace. I mean it!" He gave a wink and Blowfish was driving off. The remaining zombies carried on doing their deeds, but with less vigour, less animation. It would be a relatively simple matter now to cave their heads in with a shovel, or cut them up with a chainsaw. Beanpole, all sixty kilograms and six foot three inches of him, looked mighty relieved. "Goddamn it, I never meant to get bit by no zombie. I guess I got you ta thank, cape. Whaddya say yer name was again?"

GM "Thats right! Thats right! It ain't a movie, is it? I mean, who says dese Zombies are like movie Zombies, right?" yammered Beanpole. "I don't know... pffff...." hissed Blowfish. "I mean, yer may be ... pffff.... right..." He fondled the flickknife in his hand, his eyes flitting between Beanpoles skull and Chimera. After a few more tics, he folded the flick knife away. "I guess yer might... might.. pfff... be right. I'll leave him in yer hands then. Just promise that if he turns, you will.. do him..." Beanpole's eyesbrows raised, but he said nothing. "Look, I know his mother. Pfff. I don't want to break her heart. But I'd break in twice over if she knew her dead son was wanderin' da streets of Freedom City as one of da undead." He offered the flick knife to Chimera. "So I'll leave him in yer hands. As long as you promise to give him proper rest if he... pfffff.... turns. Deal?"

Echohead Umberto paid only half a mind to what was being said. Is other half a mind was absorbing half a mind from a full mind to augment his mind with another mind. In other words, With Captain Scarlett's permission he reached into the agents brain. He couldn't read what was in there, but he could sense the man was smart, experienced. It was not a conscious process, and not visible, but to Umberto's strange mind's eye, tendrils of pulsing purple light flowed from one head to the other. Nobody else could see it, but that's how it felt to Umberto's imagination. With every pulse, he could feel knowledge and skill being copied into his brain. What did Captain Scarlett know? Umberto had no idea. But he could feel the copy in his head, feel the newfound confidence in how to investigate a crime scene, or interrogate a suspect, or create a psychological profile of a spy. With this newfound vortex of knowledge, the conversation made a little more sense. "Thanks... err.... nothing to worry about, folks. All in a day's wory for Echohead! Just making sure that I know what the hell I am doing if we need a spy on scene. I mean... ah... obviously I am very skilled and experienced..." In gardening... came the inner voice. "... but I can copy peoples talents. And Captain Scarlett here seems to know more than any of us". Umberto tapped the side of his bald head and gave a knowing wink. "So I think we best be off. Before someone gets shot or blown up, or stabbed with a poison tipped umbrella!"

GM "Whaddya mean?" asked Blowfish, holding his hands out in a shrug. "Beanpole is a good fella. Bit skinny. But stupid. But a good fella, all da same. But dat don't mean a piece of pasta when ya get bit by a zombie..." "No!" yelped Beanpole. "Amputate me... that works, right?" Blowfish clipped Beanpole around the head. "Did dat bite make you even softer in da head? What you want us to do, amputate yah head?" The other men shuffled their feat. There was no way of amputating the bite mark without some bifurcating Beanpole in two. "We gotta stick ya, Beanpole. Sorry, but dat's da way it is. Yer seen all da zombie movies, right? Yer get bit, yer get... pffft... turned!" Blowfish hefted his flickknife and actually looked sorry. But not so sorry he wouldn't do it. Beanpole looked at Chimera with pleading, panicked eyes...

GM The Zombie collapsed in a heap. Inspired, Blowfish and his men redoubled their efforts in undead destruction. Blowfish himself swung his deformed and bent tommy gun into the skull of a Zombie standing just to the side of Chimera - a skull that shattered and exploded. It was fortunate that it was a particularly old zombie, dessicated, dry, more dust than anything else. Other "fresher" zombies had the disturbing ability to ooze ichor and brains. Blowfish's assault merely covered Chimera's face with a thin layer of bone dust. "Pffft... da dead ain't no match for da livin!" proclaimed Blowfish, smile broad. The last few aggressive zombies dealt with, Chimera heard a scream from one of Blowfish' men. "I'm bit... I'm bit!" yelled a thin goon clutching his shoulder. A slow trickle of blood oozed from his hand. "Dang it, Beanpole...pffft...." frowned Blowfish. "Now I gotta go stick a knife in ya skull. Whaddya go and get bit for?" "No! No! I don' wanna die! Get me to a church or somethin' get me blessed..." Blowfish grunted and gave a tic. With a final sigh, he pulled out a flick knife and advanced on his minion, Beanpole...