EviscerusNox

Sure go ahead and give me a notice check, search won't be necessary unless there's something specific you're looking for

I guess this would be considered an intimidate check? Intimidate: 1d20+2 14 not bad considering no ranks!

This all perturbed Ak'kar to the point that his skin rapidly shifted between shades of yellow and green, finally settling into a deep red. He had opened his ship, his home to these people and now they what, wanted to take it from him? Ak'kar mentally flogged himself mentally for his earlier altruism and re-doubled his conviction to be more mercenary in the future. Ak'kar boosted the mic on his translator tentacle to act as a megaphone and addressed the gathering civilians. "YOU WILL EXPLAIN YOURSELVES. CEASE HOSTILITIES IMMEDIATELY AND I WILL NOT HAVE YOU ALL JETTISONED OUT OF THE NEAREST AIRLOCK."

Max moved back over to Grim and smiled, throwing the phone in the air and catching it deftly before shoving it back in his back pocket. "Deardra's in. Got a smaller contingent of the carnival booked, all the best stuff minus the large animals. Bearded lady, crocodile man, fortune teller, you name it. I can do a little fire show either in the maze proper or in the carnival if ya want." Max headed over to the model and peered at it tapping his teeth contemplatively. "I think the best thing to do is set the carnival up in the middle of the corn maze ya know, have it be sort of the cheese at the end of the maze for the rats? Not to say that people are rats, but you get my drift." Max noticed Grim's shadow and cocked an eyebrow at Blodeuwedd, "What about you? Got any thoughts here? Carnival in the center yes or no? Outside maybe? Set up little stations along the entrances to the maze?" Max wasn't sure if she would answer him, having dealt with several different types of hero types in his past, this looked like the "silent" type, but he didn't like the thought of someone feeling like they weren't contributing, even if talking wasn't their strong suit. Besides, Max loved to pull people from their shell, get them talking, get them involved, if you asked him that was his real super power, not the breathing fire thing.

Max sprinted towards the escaping gun runner, vaulting in a sideways, parkour style flip over the gathering throng of greedy people, clawing at the ground to get at the coins that exploded from the slot machine. Max cleared them with ease and looked to the kitchen of the little restaurant, looking for anything that might slow the woman or aid in her capture. There were a plethora of knives and other cooking instruments that could be used to lethal effect, but none of those sparked his interest. What he did notice was a canister labeled as liquid nitrogen which the restaurant obviously used in an ice cream desert of some sort. Max bolted for it, smiling. "Let's put this little minx on ice!"

By the time Curtis came back dressed in trenchcoat and sporting Katana, the priest was breathing easier on the floor, still unconscious, but in less obvious pain. It seemed he would survive, at least in the interim. The rain poured heavily on the streets outside and the glow from the streetlights reflected jumpily off puddles and slick asphalt. The church was a mere half a block away, which explained how the priest could manage to walk that distance on his own, but that was still quite a walk to do with no one noticing a priest in distress. Of course, it didn't surprise Curtis that no one helped the priest. This was Nancy Street. This was Bedlam.

ok so acrobatics to vault the coin machines Acrobatics check: 1d20+15 35 That was a waste of a 20! Well I got to right something suitable epic like a triple backflip and running on walls or something. Going to try and find something to super cool the wet floor in the kitchen, like a tank of liquid nitrogen, and blow that up, try and trip up the girl I'll use an HP to surge if necessary to set that off this round.

yeah he'll be out for a while and will need long term care but he's stable enough now!

As the door opened lightning brightened the scene outside. A small man in a priests habit that was soaked and hanging about his wiry frame stood in the doorway. Rain and blood mixed and ran down the man's face, pooling around his collar staining it pink. One eye was completely swollen shut, the other had a deep gash beneath it. It was obvious from the man's breathing that he had at least some broken ribs, possibly internal bleeding. The priest looked up wobbly and spoke barely above a whisper. "Curtis... Scarpias... in the church...ghost..." everything else was lost to the wind and the priest's eyes rolled in the back of his head as he slumped forward, passing out on Curtis' shoulder. And outside the thunder rolled.

Ok AA and Cape, tag here!

Nancy Street, Oct. 17th 10:47PM It was a relatively quiet night on Nancy street. Gunfire could be heard in the distance, a woman's scream, a child crying, the sounds of domestic disturbances and aggravated assaults, and of course after the screams faded to whimpers, the sounds of sirens. All in all, a quiet night in comparison to most. The rain had started to fall on Bedlam City, doing it's level best to wash the grime and the muck and the human refuse away. To leave the world clean and new again. Bedlam, and Nancy street in particular, would not be so easily swept away. It's stain marked the states, the world, a dark black spot on a hardwood floor that refused to come up no matter how much you scrubbed. Bedlam was the reminder of mistakes past, of wrongs done, of lives lost. A strange sound over the din of inequity peeled through the air of Nancy street. The church bells started to ring. No mass anyone knew of was taking place, it was no holiday, it was not quite midnight. The crystal clang of that pure sound seemed both off and ominous, and many lights turned on in the houses and tenements, this sound above all others piqueing the curiosity of the jaded residents. As the bells faded there was a knock on Ronin's door. Downtown Bedlam Abandoned Mill It was a quiet and dark place that Victor popped into, stepping out of the shadows. This was not part of his contract with the Scarpias, but old habits died hard, and he needed to destroy something... precious. No one was in at the moment, as he had made sure, it wasn't time for justice to be meted out, it was time for the chase. Victor laid the parchment he brought on a dresser and pinned it in place with a dagger, it's hilt in the style of a rose dripping blood, the symbol of his old Order. The parchment read: The Church on Nancy Street. Come find me, or I find those you hold dear. There was no signature. Victor smiled again as he melted back in the shadows. The petty thugs might be upset that he was bringing an uninvited guest, but he cared little. They were nothing, he did work for them to pay bills, so he could do his real Work. The game had begun.

Ok so Max will move through the fire cloud unaffected using his Movement power, putting himself about 30 ft in front of Flare

Jann was not looking too good to Max's eyes, he knew it would be hard for her to get away from them both, but if it was just him chasing her, she could lose him easily enough. He had to get in front of her. So dashing through the hazy cloudy of flare light and fire, Max lit the ground on fire to make it easier for him to skate on, melting the tile and setting the little entry rug ablaze. Max was hoping the sprinklers would be set off by the smoke, at least making a run for it hard for the woman. Max stopped short and turned back around to face Flare. Max tapped his metal covered hand against a nearby metal railing and smiled. "So you gonna show me to your room? I mean, it is our first date, but I think you and I have made a pretty special connection. Got any more guns up there?"

Spitfire looked to the phone, which he somehow heard, and then back to the bike, then to Flare running away, then back to the bike, then grinned devillishly. "Maybe yer immune to fire girlie, but not metal!" With that Max plunged his hand into the molten remains of the bike and pulled out a fist covered in red glowing steel, dripping onto the pavement. "Luuucy! You have some 'splainin' to doooo!"

I remain a stalwart presence, an avatar of annoyance that graces the screens with eloquence and persnickety

Notice at -5: 1d20+5 22 that's for hearing the phone So you tell me if this flies, I was thinking maybe Max sticks his hand in the moltem metal of the bike so next time he goes to punch somebody his hand is encased in metal (effectively adding a rank of damage to his strength damage) I figure that's worth an action

Max laughed at Mark. "Yeah, but it was an alternate dimension maze ran by a demon who fed on the sins of it's maze's inhabitants, so I doubt that's the kind of thing we want our kids running through, and it changed every so often so there's no working your way through it. Don't think that's what we wanna build. Do need to make the center rather large if we're gonna have even a miniature version of the carnival in there. I'll tell Deardra to leave the Elephants and the like at home." Max pulled out his phone and stepped to the side. "Hey Deardra! It's Maxie! Don't hang up, I got a gig!..."

Max saw that she was headed for her motorcycle and spit, shaking his head. "Nu-uh honey, not this time. You and I are gonna finish this dance!" With that Max sprinted for the bike, laying down fire along the way to glide on, increasing his speed. When he got to the bike he took in a deep breath, asked forgiveness of the gods of motorcycles and all things cool, and spewed liquid virtiolic fire so hot it was white upon the bike, hoping to melt it to little more than a heap of melted metal and rubber. He needed answers in regards to this man in the park and on the video camera, and he wasn't about to let this last lead ride off again leaving him in the lurch.

ok so charging the bike! Power attacking as well on the Corrosion 11 to make it Corrosion 16! Pow Attacked charge of Flare's bike: 1d20+6 22 That'll hit I assume so it's Drain Toughness 16 and Damage 16

Max sputtered out a curse before throwing himself out of the car. "Next time, I'm driving!" Max hit the pavement hard, but rolled well with the impact, coming up to a lamp post and bracing against it for support. To someone else it may look like he face planted into the pole, but that's not what happened. Besides, there was no marks on his face or body to prove that it had happened that way. Max thanked his mutant thick skin for that one. Max turned to see Bird of Arms launch himself out of the windshield and at Flare, accompanied by the screeching shriek of tearing metal and busting glass. "I get involved with the strangest people in this gig. And that's sayin' something considering my last gig I worked fer the circus!"

ini: 1d20+3 20 here's an acro check to avoid eating asphalt Acrobatics check: 1d20+15 28 golden!

It took a while, but eventually the entirety of the Skeleton Crew (minus a few parts) were back aboard the Black Flag, including her Captain. The wounds would heal and the appendages would regrow, but now the main concern was getting the stranded sailors of the fishing trawler back to shore. They were all quite a bit nervous and fidgety, considering they were on a literal pirate ship with a literal crew of undead pirates, but they were at the least aware that these particular undead saved them from the other undead. It was not long before a post went up on twitter: Crabbin4lyfe wrote: Just got saved from an evil ghost ship by undead pirates! Tnx Capt Flintlock! #notallundead The only question for Flintlock was at this point, how much rum could be bought with Aztec bullion before having to get it exchanged into modern currency. Fin.

Spitfire turned to the reporter and smiled. "Mic's open to all ma'am, not just us in our halloween get ups. You go on up there and make us all regret lending our sorry voices to this shindig. Afterwards, if ya want, you can interview me. The answer to the first question you'll ask is yes, I'm always this devastatingly handsome." Max gave her a little wink and ordered another shot. He was starting to feel a little looser, now that he was on his third scotch, and as usual his already outgoing personality was heading into "bombastic" or maybe just downright annoying, depending on who you asked. "I myself might do one more afore the night is over. Here's hopin' I don't get all morose and sad before I decide to get up there again. Nobody likes a downer at karaoke night."

Prince Ak'kar Diaspora: The Trek Outwards (2) Spitfire Children of the Corn Maze (4) Gun Run (19) Karaoke Night At Morley's Pub (1) GM Giving Up The Ghost (3) I Have Not Yet Begun To Fright! (10) All GM posts to Spitfire

Moctezuma's eyes went wide for brief instance before the cannon took his ethereal head off his shoulders. Any question of the ghost surviving such a blast flew out the window as a tentacle of the massive kraken came crashing down on what was left of Moctezuma's form. After the gargantuan splash of water all that was left of the spirit was red vapor and a ghostly, distant scream. As the waters settled, the sun finally split the clouds. Mist dissipated leaving a calm sea that showed no signs of the brewing storm and vengeance of Moctezuma. As the rays of the sun lighted upon the deck of the Black Flag there came a glittering rain of bullion of gold and silver upon her decks. Not the angry bullet sped ripping that the crew was used to, but a small tinkling as the La Nochte Triste treasure was freed from the curse of it's previous owner. Soon the deck was covered in gleaming coins that caught the sunlight and lit the deck of the pirate ship as if it was a heavenly sent craft carrying the angels. The day was won, and another treasure had been recovered, as had another shade been put to final rest.