Supercape

AEGIS Report Athletic Experts (Acrobatics, Climbing, Escape Artist, Ride, Swimming) Crafting Experts (Computers, Craft, Disable Device) Academic Experts (Knowledge) Other Experts (All other skills) Linguistic Experts (Proficient in unusual or exotic languages) Notable heroes with lesser degree of skills in rare areas. Notes: Objective ratings used. Some abilities that are hard to measure, primarily social and observation are not included as they hard to objectively quantify and hence it is impossible to proclaim, accurately "expertise". This report only includes a rating of 15+ on the Skill Heuristic Expertise Engram Type (S.H.E.E.T) rating. Due to paucity of some particular fields of expertise, an addendum is added for rare skills that score +10 to +14 on S.H.E.E.T. Errors and inaccuracies can be corrected by application.

Could you roll a straight STR check (Super Strength does add bonus) to barge through crowd and drag / bustle where you want him to go? DC 0 - Chaos - you end up on the floor with Sunshade and face multiple boots (DC 15 Toughness Save please!) DC 10 - Manage to do it slowly and chaotically, people take pictures and violent shoving etc. Sunshade can further induce the crowd DC 20 - Manage to do it quick and efficiently. DC 30 - Awesomesauce. Choose whatever fantastic benefit to your action you want (cartwheeling, spread crowd out and subdue them, use two cars as rollerskates, choke out Sunshade, etc) Thanks, @Jackson

GM "What-whu-who?" said the man, vocal cords so garrotted by anxiety that his voice sounded like a mouse high on helium. "I mean.. gas... what? What are you...err.... singing... err...." The man was so discombobulated he could barely two string two words together in any sort of grammatically correct structure. Beads of sweat almost jumped out of the pores on his skin, the veins on his neck pulsed violently against a collar that was suddenly too tight, too starched. And his hands, cold, slick with sweat, numb - they started to wobble, tremble. And the glass ball? It fell out of the paralysed fingers, ready to smash on the ground...

Excellent! Ball dropped! Could you make a DEX DC 15 roll to catch the ball? If not you are at ground zero for a Fatigue 6 (Fort Save) effect! Also giving you an HP as disability will make the catch harder and prevent your reflex save vs AE. The Dreamer - 2 HP - Unharmed

Pitch "Huh! No traps in here, right?! Just what somebody would say if there were traps in here and they wanted to fool everyone into relaxing there guard! I don't believe you for a moment!" Pitch let out a snorting laugh, but pulled the shotgun away. It looked cool, but wasn't doing anything. "And who is this new Mistress of yours?" she asked. "Because her ass is going to be kissing my boot very shortly..." She looked over to her mob of demon-busters. "New Mistress? What do you think?" She raised an eyebrow, blazed her eyes. "I wouldn't trust anything that comes out of a demons mouth, as a rule. Unless the truth is helping them somehow."

Quite the spectacular entrance! Could you throw me a straight CHA roll? DC 10 to discombobulate the man? In case we need it, an initiative roll too? (Incidentally seems your sheet is off - CHA 20 should be +5 bonus? Same for WIS?)

A mighty 7

Lament "Vegas, well it figures. Here is where dreams come to live, and die." A note of caution hit Luther in the chest. He had seen to many friends die from booze and drugs back in New Orleans. He had got close to abusing whiskey himself, although her was not inclined to alcoholism or addiction. And yet - if this stuff was as good as the pianist said, it could grind down the most hardy of wills. "Sure. First hits free. I'm in..." He was in alright, but not quite in the way that it sounded. If someone was peddling liquid joy, then he could possibly feed the Void! And if he couldn't, there was still a new drug in town. Something that could potentially rip people, and even society, apart. OK, OK, so there was one outcome where the whole world would walk around happy and free from conflict, living wonderful lives in harmony. But Luther was too cynical to give that much, if any, credance.

MYCOLOGIED by Fox Spore Fluff Altering complication Feet First to: Light Touch: Some powers require Spore to be touching with her bare skin (which will sprout microscopic fungal cilia) - although a morphic molecule costume will normally allow this. Burrowing, Supermovement, and Tremomorsense will all fall under this limitation. She also needs touch to absorb nutrients (her starvation immunity). Finally, particular surfaces (burning hot, super hard, solid rock for burrowing etc), or fast movement, might impair or prevent her from using these abilities. Practically, as a civilian, she will usually wear easily kicked-off sneakers to allow her to use these powers. Adding one more complication: Fertile Soil: Her mushroom power and environmental control power will rapidly decay if the snare or environment is not against some fertile surface (like soil - even cracks in a pavement might do). The snare will not regenerate, and might even lose strength, and the environment will soon turn to fungal mush. 8 PP to spend Saves 1 PP: Add +1 to Reflex Skills 2: Add 6 Ranks of Climb to 6 (+0), and 2 Ranks of Intimidate to 4 (+6) Powers 3 PP Add Supersenses 2 (Tremorsense, Feats: Uncanny dodge [Tactile]) [3 PP] 1 PP Add 1 rank to Supermovement array to make Supermovement 2 (Permeate [25%], Wall Crawling, Flaws: Limited to organic surfaces e.g. wood) [2 PP] Add 1 PP to the Fungal Array, and modifying the powers - Essentially I think the perception range effects, on reflection, dont work conceptually. So its reworked for Spore to fire out/create fungal stuff. Fungal Array (32 PP Array, Feats: Alt Power 7) [39 PP] BP: Damage 8 (Extras: Alt Save [Fort], Vampiric, Affects Objects [Limited to dead organic matter such as wood, bone, leather], Feats: Improved Critical 2, Incurable, Sedation) [32/32 PP] “Cannibalise” AP: Fatigue 8 (Extras: Ranged, Autofire) [32/32 PP] “Throw Spores” AP: Fatigue 8 (Extras: Area [Cloud], Feats: Decrease Area 8 [1-40' radius]) [32/32 PP] “Spore Cloud ” AP: Paralyse 8 (Extras: Ranged, Poison) “Mycotoxin Spit” [32 PP] AP: Paralyse 8 (Extras: Area [Cone], Poison) “Mycotoxin Breath” [32 PP] AP: Environmental Control 5 (100' Radius, Distraction DC 15, Hamper Move 25%, Low Light, Extras: Independent [+0], Total Fade, Feats: Selective [Mix and match effects], Slow Fade 5 (5 hours = 1 day total), Variable Descriptor 1 [Fungus], Flaws: Range [Touch]) [32 PP] "Fungal Bloom" AP: Snare 6 (Extras: Regenerating, Feats: Blocks Olfactory Sense, Reversible) linked with Confuse 6 (Extras: Alt Save [Fort, +0], Secondary Effect, Flaws: Range [Touch]) [20 + 12 = 32 PP] "Throw Magic Mushroom"

GM And so, in the Bass Beat.... The Man, who introduced himself as Fabio, or "Fab", was genial, jovial, and full of laughs. He bought two tickets, swayed his hips and tip-toed into the club with an elegance that defied his build. He was a pretty good dancer, for an amateur, and had a kind of bold confidence that made him stand out. A few of the dancers inside gave him a clap and a high five. The club itself was painted gold, red, silver, in a mock Roman style. Flashing lights pulsed through the smoky air, and disco balls twirled like stars above Rosa. A fat beat, seventies style, with a modern twist, stomped through the speakers and into the crowd, who duly moved their feat, sliding, rotating and clapping. A few even screamed with joy as a new song came on. Various cubby holes had tables, chairs, and relaxing clients. A bar stood to one side, waited and tended by a couple of girls in low cut jump suits and outrageously spiked hair. The barstools were half empty. People were drinking - but they had come for the dancing. That was the priority. Up above, on a balcony that had wide stairs to the dance floor, was the VIP level. Leaning over, observing the crowd, was a dark skinned man in a blue and gold jumpsuit, revealing a bare and toned chest. His eyes were wide, his grin so fierce it threatened to crack his face, and his hair was in a flamboyant afro, perfectly circular, twice the size of his head.

Spore The appearance of a wolf, and a goblin, made Spore spin round and start clicking her digital camera like crazy. That! Was! An! Entrance! Googkak the Goblin. Well, he certainly was a strange creature. One that made an impression and certainly one that had done so in Claremont. Out here, in public... well, he would fit in. She had a pang of sorrow for the weirder mutants in Claremont who, perhaps for psychological reasons related to their appearances, didn't go out incognito in public. Like that idiot Gamma Buzz. What a immature fool he was! But Googkak seemed cooler somehow. The right type of fool. "Go go go!" she screamed at Googkak. "Everyone loves a knight in shining armour!"

GM The professor grunted as Renee elbowed him, but said not a word. "Fix it?" said Vemon the rat. "Mmmmm. Does it need fixing, I wonder? Maybe, maybe...." "Maybe we can use it?" said Filth. "I mean, its pretty safe down here, isn't it? I never got sick in my life. Maybe I'm a mutant or something hehehe..." he said, chuckling to himself. "I mean, me and my pet..." Venom tskd and spat. "...we run the show pretty good down here. Maybe a few zombies, maybe a few mutated alligators, but we run it pretty good. And for free, too. Damn city oughta give us a medal. Or something else valuable. Now this egg, maybe it belongs down here?" He gave another chuckle. Up ahead, gurgling waters could be heard. The flashlight swerved up, ahead. Was that movement in the sea of abhorrent fluid?

Lament At this, Luther raised an eyebrow. "Drugs?" He was no stranger to drugs. Liquor was his poison, although since the Void latched onto his spleen, he had lost something of the taste for it. Drugs? The Void had lashed out at those high on cocaine or amphetamines, even alcohol, but it was poor fare. Like eating grass. More an attempt to fill yourself than having any nutritional value. Luther swigged some more whiskey. "Tell me more..." he said, slowly, like an oiled snake slipping into the pianists ear. "I could do with a drop of two of that. Maybe a solid swig. You know how it is, on the road, playing to some numbskulls. Sometimes it gets you down. If you know someone selling, I know someone buying...." He stabbed a finger at his chest.

Lament "You can sure tinkle the keys," said Luther, who was always appreciative of music. But was Charles extraordinary? Perhaps? But Luther grew up in New Orleans, it was tough to be an even average musician in New Orleans. "Just sleight of hand. Look..." Luther took out a pack of cards, displayed so fancy shuffling, showed the top card - the six of spades. Slapped the deck, and pulled out the six of spades from his mouth. "Just a lot of practice and deception. ZOMBO! Master of VOODOO! A bit of showmanship, a bit of costume. All the rest. As for a gift? Well, just a gift for stage magic. And I have been known to play some music too," he added with a smile. "What's your secret? Never seen a man so happy. High on life, or something else?"

Lament Is this guy on drugs? Nobody could be that happy. That radiant. Could they? It had been years with the Void. Luther had grown accustomed to the symbiote. He was the Lord of Lamentations, the Duke of Despair, the Marquis of Melancholia. "Yeah, not bad," he said. "Could have been better. But that's showbiz..." It was not merely the Void now. Luther himself was genuinely interested in this character. What was his story? Meditation? Mindfulness? Magic? "Sure, I could have a stiff whiskey, see you there." Luther was not a big drinker, but he grew up around jazz bars in New Orleans. He knew drink, and he did drink. Back in his dressing room he changed - in an instant - into a jeans, purple jacket, white t shirt, and a black beret over his bald head. A bit ostentatious, perhaps, but that was the nature of Luther LeGrasse. He slung his trumpet into his bag, and - because this was a bar with a stranger, tucked his blackjack into the back of his jeans. He had seen one or two too many drunken brawls in New Orleans, and caution was wise, even when one was stepping into the unknown...

Lament "Ladies and Gentlemen! Behold - the POWER of VOODOO! Brought to you by ZOMBO! Master of the UNDEAD!" roared Zombo, with a magnificent and flamboyant bow. Beats a nine to five... Luther was sour about the performance. It was adequate, if one was being generous, but as so often happened, the hunger of the Void had left the audience with that hollowed out feeling. Even with his skill, the best he could do was to turn a bitter experience into a mediocre one. Still. It was, as he noted, better than a nine to five. But too many shows like this and his fame, livelihood, and reputation would sink. Entertainment business was a pool of sharks, and only the fittest would survive. He stormed back to his dressing room, biting his lip and fantasising about how he could engineer a feast for the void on more deserving souls. Thugs and dealers on the street, or corporate jackass parasites, feeding on the many.

Lament Well, such was the nature of living with the Void. But it was a bitter thing. The mood had soured, and Luther needed applause. He lived for it. No wonder the Void had attached itself to him. The Irony! "And now, ladies and gentlemen! I shall attempt the grave feat of astral discombobulation!" he said, in a deep, booming voice that reverberated around the stage and beyond. "Beware, those who are faint of heart, for this involved traversing the planes.. OF THE DEAD! And beyond!" And with that, his eyes rolled back - pure white - his hand shook, and creepy music and moans filled the stage. A puff of smoke! A crack of sound! And there he was, floating above them all on hidden wires, his body bathed in vivid white, contorting, writhing...

Diamondlight "What in Hades is that?" said Diamondlight. It was not easy to shock him, but shocked he was. Too shocked even to alight an energy blade. "I'm not donating organs to anybody. Not whilst I am living, anyway. And that's not an invitation to kill me, before you get smart." The master? Someone was behind all of this. "Who is your master, and why does he want organs? And, more importantly, why do you serve him? Who are you to be another man's slave?" Diamondlight was not a fan of slavery. First, it was inherently abhorrent, despite its historical ubiquity. Secondly, it gave him an unconsious pang about the Daka crystal in Switzerland, a Nazi spoil of war that had given him his powers and was keeping his family alive. From Africa. Colonial scars were unavoidable. He was perhaps more short, more angry, than his normally cool nature would suggest. Slavery made him angry.

Spore Her breath restored, Harper managed a calm voice. "Pumpkin Spice Latte? Well, why not?" She wasn't ready for a relationship. Not yet, no matter her desire for one. "Just what ordinary teenagers want, right?" As though any of us are ordinary. Despite the unusual nature of her powers, Harper felt lucky. Ninety nine times out of a hundred, a mutant fungal infection would have killed somebody. And plenty of the remaining 1% would have been seriously ill. Harper was lucky to be alive, let alone a superhero. "Thanks, Miss Delgrado. You are the best!"

Pitch "Heroes? Not exactly. Close, but...." Pitch pulled out a cigar from her back pocket, and set it alight with a lick of flame from her finger. "...no cigar." She glanced at the other four. "Well, for my part anyway. These guys might be nice. I'm nasty with a little bit of nice sprinkled on the top. But I'm still here to stop your evil schemes. And you aren't going to be eating anything than a barrel full of rocksalt. And thats I'm feeling real nice. Which I probably won't be." She waved at the room and all its potential traps. "What's all this? And what's with your toe? It's all out of some B-grade horror film, right?"

GM Perhaps the Dreamer was dreaming, perhaps everything was a dream. The handsome gentleman of the "MOYD" painting seemed to look at her. Eyes following her. Maybe his long red hair seemed to flow. Or was it a trick of the light? Of the half dozen other visitors the gallery, the Dreamer noted one was particularly... anxious, restless, hands with a hint of tremor. A middle aged man, average stock, unruly black hair just starting to recede. A lined brow, but alert eyes, brown, deep. He reached inside the pocket of a cheap jacket. It was a subtle and swift movement. He brought out a glass ball. Filled with green gas. Exactly the same as the gentleman in the Moyd painting was holding!

Awesome

I think Spore just got knocked back from the handclap... so probably saved her the dazzle?

Lament "Magic! The spirits of the dead!" proclaimed the great Zombo. Behind him, smoke, and ghostly images of skulls and skeletons. the Void, however, had had enough - reached out, and started to feed. For all his strength of will - and it was strong, Luther could not contain the reflex any longer. It was like the jerking of the knee. Invisible psychic threads split and streamed through the air, each on feeding on joy. There was plenty to feed on. With effort, Luther kept them from supping to deeply, the effort distorting his face and squeezing sweat of his pores. "The spirits! Can you feel the spirits of death?" he asked, bluffing. The Void, partially sated, could at least be prevented from reducing the audience to depression. They would just not be as happy as they should be. Something cold, flat and spooky would be mixed in with their appreciation. Curses! He needed to give the Void a proper feast! Some deserving villain. He went on to his next trick...

All sorted I think... One feat fell off - put it back in. Favoured Opponent (Person they have copied)