Supercape

"Ah, metahumans! pffft! what a name! I am human, you are human! why the name? always we have to name!" he threw his hands up in momentary exasperation. "What does that make my neighbour? a subhuman? ah! listen to me, talking on like a fool. I shall answer your question. Because you are beautiful and because the sun glides through your air like honey". He paused for a moment, then continued daubing away at the canvas, talking as he did so. "I have only moved to America in the last few months, Madame, and I came directly to Freedom City. I may well visit other places, but I thought this the best place to start. For the rest of my life, I have lived in Europe. In many cities, London, Paris, Berlin, Stockholm, Rome, and Barcelona to name the longest and biggest residences. I am a painter, Madame, and I trained in the finest Schools in Paris. But, also, and perhaps more importantly, I am a magician. A sorcerer, a warlock, a witch, a mage, a mystic... whatever you wish to call it. Whatever the name, it is the case that I am schooled in and can command forces beyond the will of what you might call 'normal' men. " He smiled "but there is a little magic in all of us, is there not?"

For the production of the piece: 1d20+14=32 Wow, I was going blow an HP to boost it up, but thats a good roll. It may not be a Vangough, but its clearly a very good piece (equivilant to an expert painter taking 20)

"Madame, It is mon pleasure" said Rene, as he wrestled with the zipper. "The dress is beautiful, as is the bride!" She better have this wedding soon, or that bump is going to play havoc with the zip... he thought, despairing at the thought of Stesha not fitting into a dress that she had obviously taken a lot of time to choose - and time well spent, he thought. "And now, we must continue! this stage iz a little bit more complicated, and lengthy. So relax, and just be yourself. We can talk, it helps me to get to know you. " He lead her back to the wooden stool. "The same pose now, but you needn't hold it. Just remember how you where... yes...yes... that is it!" he said, gently guiding her to an equivalent pose to the original. "I know have to make a more detailed sketch, match some colours, but ze finished work will take more time than we have today, alas." He stared at the easel, and at Stesha, and brought out a selection of brushes, paints, and pencils. "To start with, I must capture that hair!" he said with eager eyes and a smile.

Slick gave Wesley a sideways glance. Well I never...is he...? The radio started to blast out "Dude looks like a lady" which Slick cheerfully slang along to. He was tempted to change shape, but resisted the urge. "Thirteen to Fifteen eh? It is, of course, possible they ran away. Have to keep an open mind about that. Orphanages are not the most fun of places. And childhood not always, despite what they sun, the most fun of times. " The car swerved through a red light, just on the edge of legal justification. "So, what do we actually have? how do we know they where kidnapped? where from? any witnesses?" "Have you looked through the file at all? Any thoughts? I'm sure you are just as smart as you are handsome. "

Rene scribbled away for only a few moments, just getting the outline of Stesha whilst giving her encouragement. After what was probably quater of an hour, he stopped, and called her over. "Ze preliminary sketch!" he announced. "Done quickly, in order to capture ze moment, ze feelings". The sketch was indeed very basic, a series of lines depicting the main flow of her body, the room, and the light. One could barely recognise a body, let alone Stesha. However, there was something indefinable about the way the lines moved. "A short break now, and onto ze next stage. For this, we will need ze dress!" he gestured towards some screens at the end of the floor. "I can assure Madame, there will be no, as ze English say, Peeking of the Tom!"

Rene grinned from ear to ear. "Madame, you have made my day. Non! my year! Non Non NON! my century!" he proclaimed with obvious but well meaning exaggeration. "And the rose! we must have the rose!!!" he pulled up a slightly rickety old chair. "And the sunlight, yes... yes... the sunlight!" he set about placing Stesha on the stool, continuously adjusting her face, her angle, and her posture, until she was half sitting on the stool, her face towards him, her body at an angle, and a hand with the rose on it over her lap. The sunlight beamed across half her face. "And now... the smile!" he gestured, producing his own, unforced, one, and enthusiastically demonstrating its shape with his hands. "Just think of ze feelings you have described! let zem overcome you! let zem flow through you and out of you! and, madame, I will paint zem!" Glancing between Stesha and the canvas, he started the preliminary sketches with fury and passion.

Supercape stood up carefully. A Robotic Arm had just bounced off his chest, fortunately not flying too fast, but enough to hurt. The poor arm looked broken and twisted. "What the...?" he started, until he realised he couldn't hear a blessed thing. The noise had completely blasted his eardrums. He shook his head for a while, but he could only hear the faintest of sounds, all muffled. Dragonfly looked pretty shaken. Fortunately Etain looked like she had had the presence of mind to duck. Perhaps as he and Dragonfly had thought there was no danger, they hadn't been prepared. Etain was relatively ignorant. And in this case, relative ignorance may have lead to relative bliss. The flashing lights continued, and Supercape scrambled to the nearest computer screen that was still working. "Multiple errors" he said, without hearing "looks like something screwed up when we were in the simulator suite. Loose connection or something, I don't know. Stupid floor 13 I guess. " He looked at Dragonfly "and now that explosion has caused all sorts of havoc. We best repair what we can before things get out of control. "

Stunned is kind of irrelevant, but feel free to post accordingly! Deafened, we will get saves at 1 min / 5 min / 20 min.. etc... after that, it won't matter too much!

"I'm sure I can conjure up a... distraction..." mused Slick. With the characteristic streaks of oil, bulging and contraction of flesh, Slick transformed into a lady of the night. She was tall still, latino looking, with dolled up hair and a little to much make up. Whilst the effect oozed tramp, she was still overtly beautiful and sexy even, in a cheap way. "How do I look?" she asked the two heroes, with a wink. "If I can just distract them for a bit, I'm sure a handsome guy like you, and a sassy sexy chick like you can handle those two goons" she smiled, referencing Cannonade and Dragonfly respectively.

"I see, I see..." replied Rene "I understand" he smiled, patting her on the shoulder "Life does not always work out ze way we want it to, oui?" He took a few steps back and looked her up and down "I can make a portrait of the face, if you wish, or a full length portrait, perhaps with madame sitting, or at an angle. In any case, I can make the bump... a hint maybe? you would know, others would not. Perhaps that is ze best?" He nodded at himself. "And yes, proud, and strong, and happy. Are you those things? or are those the things you wish to be? Do not take offence, Madame, but these things are the essence of my work. "

Rene looked down at Stesha, examining her midriff. "Happy... oui...." "Madame need not, of course, answer, but as an artiste I must ask, for art's sake. Is Madame Pregnant?" He held up his hand "Please do not get offended. These things are private, I understand. But if Madame is with child, then it may explain your feelings, and how you want me to capture them. Proud, Happy, and...oui...Powerful! that is the state of the Mother, is it not?" He shrugged "and of course, Madame must instruct Rene: is this something for the portrait?"

"Zut Alor!" exclaimed Rene "Aliens? Escaping from a Ship? How romantic!" he grasped Stesha's hand. "How artistic! How noble! How brave!" He gazed into the distance for a moment before regaining his senses. "Well, Madame Stesha, ze right pose, ze right pose... hmmm. Let me look at you..." He took a few steps back and gazed at Stesha. It was a few moments before she noticed he actually had his eye closed. Despite this he seemed to be scrutinising her, and held his hands up as if framing the picture, occasionally stroking his white beard. "Ze portrait must capture ze woman, not merely ze image of ze woman" he exclaimed with a waggling finger that suddenly circled in front of his nose. "So, so, we must reveal ze woman!" He circled around Stesha, his eyes open now, with his hand behind his back. He had a frentic energy and enthusiasm that oozed with every pace. "And what would be revealed in such a painting? Who is Madame Stesha?" He paused, and looked directly at her. "What would you say, hmmm?"

"Oui Madame, zat I am!" replied Rene, drawing himself up to his full height and looking down at Stesha. "You are neither tall nor skinny. Good, good! A real woman! and... your hair! the colours! I can do wonderful things! wonderful!" Good thing I had stocked up on Green! he reflected. "But please, forgive me, yes, I am Monsieur de Saens, master artiste! and it will be mon pleasure to paint you this afternoon. " He brought Stesha up a few flight of stairs in the old house. He looked a little over seventy, yet he was still able to traverse three long flights of stairs and was hardly breathing heavy at the end of it. At the top of the house was his studio, a wide open floor, with large windows embedded in the sloping walls. Paints, canvases, and materials were littered everywhere. Rene was not a tidy man. "So, I understand you are to be wedded soon, is that right? And you wish for a portrait to capture that moment of young love, ze romance, ze passion! oui?" he nodded, barely listening to Stesha, already caught up in the event. "I can see it now!" "Has madame any thoughts on how she would like to be painted?"

Rene paints Stesha. OOC for this thread, should it be needed.

Slick looked at the gauntleted Superheroine. She was pretty handy with those. "Can you take those goons out from here? both of them? We need to get them...err... asleep... before they raise the alarm." He looked around. The street was dark and not well lit. There were plenty of avenues, side roads, and roof tops where they could easily get pretty close to the door guards, but not necessarily right up to them. "Otherwise, its sneaking time. I could distract them... some low life street walker would do the trick..."

17th December Rene glanced at his antique watch. He would be damned if he got one of those new-fangled digital contraptions. No class. Who cared if they told the time precisely. Pffft. Like he needed to know the time anyway. The sun rose, the sun set. A good old fashioned clockwork watch was the thing. It lost a random amount of minutes a day, and frequently stopped, but he had had it for a century now, and wasn't going to give it up. And damn this wearing it on the wrist thing. Perfectly fine on a waist coat, at the end of a chain. He set up his easel, and made sure he had all his paints at the ready. He rarely painted for money these days, and was going to start today. However, for love, that was quite a different thing. Damn that beast love. And as for marriage, pffft. Nothing bad heartbreak and misery, the whole stupid business... and that would be his final thoughts on the matter. "C'est magnifique!" he conceded, reflecting on it.

Well, its explosion time! Fairly self contained but the concussive blast is deafening. DC 15 Reflex Save. Failure means deafened and a DC 20 Toughness save from the explosion. If you make the Reflex save, I'm ruling you can duck and not get hit by any of the blast shield or other stuff. Concussive deafness (from barotrauma) not so easy to recover from, its a DC 15 fort save every minute (like sustained duration). Appropriate medical treatment could help. 1d20+2=8 Supercape deafened 1d20+6=19 Despite forcefield not being activated, he is only bruised.

With a schoolboy grin, Supercape theatrically pressed a red button. "And now" he proclaimed "we lower the potassium, via computer controlled robotics, in a safe and controlled manner..." No sooner had the robot arm moved, than it promptly fizzed and sparked, and dunked the whole block of potassium in the water. A deafening and concussive explosion ripped the room, alarms sounded, and flashing lights glared, the blast shield cracked and flew from its bolts from the force.

GM "Ahoy there me hearties!" The bridge was decked out pretty much like, well, a bridge. Of a 17th Century Pirate Ship. Oh for sure, there were, concealed amongst the wood and rope various flashing lights and screens, but the overall appearance was not that of a spaceship. Infront of the pirate heroes stood Captain Kraken himself, alongside eight of his crew, all with blasters drawn. Captain Kraken did look something like Kid Cthullu. Green, with a face full of tentacles, and a very alien appearance. He was decked out in full captain regalia, complete with cutlass and flintlock. "So then, you be dressed like Pirrates, but is you Pirates?" he gave them a beady look with one eye. He paced a little, and drew up to Kid Cthullu. "And ye say ye be my long lost cousin do ye? well, ye got the looks, I give you that? but are ye just a landlubber who has no way with the stars, the compass or the cutlass?" he demanded, and drew his cutlass, giving it a fancy flourish. "What say ye?"

"How can I resist Doktor Archeville poking me?" replies Slick, his amorphous form mercifully free of any expression. "Normally I am not a huge fan of human experimentation, as I am sure you can appreciate. However, circumstances are not normal, and neither am I. And consider my consent given. "Nice syringe" he commented "I suppose you are going to give me a prick now..."

Ok Initiative first 1d20+4=8 Thats due to champagne, and those damn emotion things. Notice next: 1d20+5=15 Not sure thats too good. Culture knowledge roll next 1d20+5=16 A grand set of mediocre rolls. Finally, Slick has probably drunk slightly too much - I'm not entirely sure to represent this - perhaps the "sickened" status from nauseate. Whilst its not directly in his complications, it is largely because of his memories of his father and past. I'll leave this up to you Doc to consider penalty and HP reward, or drop it completely and just consider it fluff.

Before they knew it, they where halfway there. "Whoa..oaa... we're half-way the-ere" sang Slick cheerfully along to Bon Jovi "Whoa...oaaaa! livin on a pra-yer!" he continued. "So, what do I call you, partner?" he asked Wesley "or are you the strong and silent type?" he added with a wink. Slick turned a corner at just above the speed limit. He was looking forward to unravelling the mystery. At the moment, he was keeping his anger in check, but he well knew that it would take only a small spark to set him off. Having spent his early childhood being experimented on, the merest hint of any such behaviour was a red rag to a bull. Missing children wasn't quite there, but it was heading in the right direction. A bit of banter kept his mind off what they could uncover. It could, potentially be quite horrible. And he responded to anxiety but jocularity and distraction, as always.

This sounds interesting, particularly if it has some non-combat action in like rescuing people from falling of roof tops, or exploding gas tankers, etc. I would be interested, but it perhaps needs a little more flesh on the bones.

Supercape bobbed up and down underwater. He wasn't used to being submerged in fluid environments, although he had no particular difficulty - his could breathe easy enough with his modified costume, and lack of light was no difficulty. It was actually rather pleasant, in an embryonic, regressive way. He was a little ungainly in such circumstances, however. Goodness me... it really is Atlantis... he thought to himself, and was momentarily lost in wonder until their injured companion leapt at her King and Father in a possessed rage. Goodness me! he exclaimed again, to himself, in shock. "Is it infectious as well?" he exclaimed, quickly examining his own body for any possible wounds... and the bodies of his comrades.

It was almost midnight, and Rene leant back on his chair. It had been fairly easy to come up with the idea, a necromantic compass. Constructing the thing wasn't quite so easy. He had had to buy a good quality compass, take it apart, and was halfway through putting it back together again, complete with a variety of rituals and incantations. It should do the job he concluded, although its not a masterpiece. Indeed, compared to the stuff he had made in the past, it was a trinket. But time was pressing. He would finish the rest of in the morning. He wouldn't get much sleep tonight, but a strong coffee would get him through tomorrow. Stepping outside, armed with a good quality umbrella to shield him from the drizzle, he hailed a cab. "Lantern Hill Cemetery siv vou plait" he asked the Cabbie. "At this time of night? are you ok, my friend?" asked the Greek cabbie, who smelled heavily of car smoke. "Mai Oui" replied Rene, "and I can pay, my friend, keep the engine running while I pay my respects to the dead" he continued in fluent Greek, flashing a large amount of cash. "" replied the unnerved Cabbie, who was more than prepared to put up with strange requests for a well paying costumer. At Lantern Hill... Rene walked slowly but with purpose around the Cemetery. Of course, there was no guarantee that Nick would be there tonight. Not a logical one, anyway. But mystic purposes and forces where at play, and Rene was attuned to the works of the fate. Somehow, he knew, Nick would be there tonight. He spied the figure of Nick in the Night. Perhaps normal vision would have faltered in the night sky and light rain, but he was using more than his old eyes. He saw the world as if it was a painting, and in that painting, Nick stood out, full of wisdom and import, the surroundings all pointing to his presence. Rene walked towards Rene, holding his umbrella up, until he was only ten paces away. "Nick Cimitiere?" he asked.