Supercape

GM Marceau reached out and grabbed the old lady with both hands. For all the foul demonic power that had infested the shop, the vessel was still that of a frail old lady, and as he took her in his hands, he realised she was nothing but a mortal portal for Gallu. A rasping noise came from her mouth, and she seemed to shrink slightly, and collapse in his hands. "oooooh...." she gasped, fainting. As she did so, a belch of red and black fire and shadow spewed forth with her breath straight into Marceau's face. A poisonous, evil smoke and brimstone - the last wisp of Gallu's possession before it evaporated into the ether.

Ok She can't beat that - only a little old lady! The last puff of the demon is a Fort Damage Save DC 15.

"Scoundrels" replied Lord Steam with distaste written all over his face. "Well, I am sure I can look into this for you. A few possible avenues of enquiry form in ones mind, and a few possible contacts are available" he pressed his fingers together. "Under lock and key, however, rubs against the grain. Habeus Corpus and all that. Now, if this man was to agree to be my guest, for an afternoon, say, for his own protection, of course, whilst I sort out this matter. That would be an entirely different matter." He gave Oshima a delicate but firm look. "What say you Sir? an afternoon of Tea and billiards? and, of course, freedom from having your lungs filled with lead by your less than unscrupulous associates? I can assure you that Steam Manor is quite secure in that regard..." Oshima's head was in a spin, but his instinct for self preservation was not, and he did not require a lot of persuasion to agree. A few hours later... "Here you go, my lady..." said Lord Steam to Carrie, presenting her with some scribbled notes in what was rather elegant handwriting from what she could only guess was a quill. "A few enquiries and a little silver, and I have the address and names of your villains. A Mr. Garrod, known in the trade as 'Blowfish', operates out of 42 Littlepond Street in Grenville, no less. Quite respectable, by all accounts, nice little mansionette there. And several hired thugs. "

I take exception to that! Rene is French!!! On the latter point, I am mulling over exactly how female Synth is. But my experience with v1, Slick, is that it is better to come down on one side of the fence just for ease of reference!

Small point for Rav: Synth is female (ish). (And currently looks female) :)

As she strode towards the commotion, Synth saw Starlight apprehend the guard, and the shifting form. "A shapechanger?" she blurted out, in an uncharacteristic jolt of surprise. It seemed to be something different from herself, more amorphous, plastic, even inhuman. She didn't recognise Starlight - she hardly recognised anyone in this city - but she could hazard a guess that the heroine was trying to help. Her pace quickened to a run, and then a sprint as she pulled up beside Starlight. "What was that?" she asked, staring at the thing. "The answer to the riddle?"

With a casual flip of his cane, Lord Steam knocked aside the Spear's of the guards. It was not that they were untrained, it was just that he was a master of baritsu, and his reflexes more than ample. With a shuffling of his feet, he lashed out with a foot, but only as a deception to unbalance the guards. One-two.. with a spin, two heads cracked against his cane and met sweet oblivion. His long legs then strode quickly towards the meat of the resistance, Lord Brutus. The man had a skull made of steel, and whilst he was confident that they would overpower him, he was also sure that it would require considerably more effort than his minions.

"I share your dislike of Sewer's" agreed Supercape. Dark, disease ridden, and filthy, in his estimation. "I suppose however, that there is a certain logic. Nobody likes them. Hence, a fine place to remain obscured from human eye. Only the rats for company down here. " He wrinkled his nose. "I can only see one way from here, comrades. Once more onto the breach. Personally, however, I am going in with my eyes closed. Any more of those symbols, combined with the smell down here, and I will be overcome..."

-3 Attack, +3 Damage Shift attacks, takedown feat! Taking 10 on attacks so should hit Guard 1. DC 23 Toughness, if he fails (and KO), DC 23 TOughness on the other guy. If that works out, ill use the move action to move up to Brutus (if I can reach - if not, move as much as I can for that move action). Waiting for result before IC post./

Kind of away early for Christmas! not literally away, but my wife having her birthday celebrations over next few days and then flow nicely into the Yuletide period. Posting is going to be intermittent at best!

"Ah my dear Carrie" said Lord Steam, slamming shut his book as they entered the Library. Impact fractures in industrial materials was the uninspiring dry title. He tossed it casually aside. Not so casually it didn't land on a chair cushion. "You should have told me you were coming, I would have had some salmon sandwiches served!" he smiled "Jasper!" he called to the Butler "do crack open a bottle of champagne, its a bit early I know, but what the devil!" he laughed. "Oh and M sends his regards to, the old cad!" he mentioned to Carrie as he gestured for her and the wild looking Tobias to sit down. "Who is your friend?" he asked "Businessman? Bit on the manic side? Traumatised by recently firing a weapon?" he said, studying Tobias' appearance and twitching fingers "right handed, small calibre weapon, I would imagine..." he concluded, pressing his fingers together. "What caper have you brought me today?" he asked Carrie.

Synth crouched down on her haunches, again moving with that slightly unerring precision and confidence, and looked at the pink matter. She had grown up in a biological laboratory. She wasn't about to touch it, even if her synthetic nature made her highly resistant to biological effects, that precaution had been drummed into her good. Her next action was odd - leaning down, she sniffed the goo. Unpleasant...she concluded. Highly unpleasant... Organic, but not human...at least not anything human I have smelled... she added to herself, acknowledging her limited experience. She looked away to the Branson building. A faint odour lingered there. Pulling her hoody over her head, she tried to slip away to the building, walking casually but briskly in that direction. Something she told herself is most definitely afoot!

GM A bit later, at Steam Manor... "Greetings, Madam, and...Sir..." said the polite butler that opened the door for Carrie and Tobias. "I shall call someone to park you...vehicle..." he added, giving the mini a snooty look "I am sure it can manage a few more yards..." he concluded, gesturing towards the elegant frame of Bessie, Lord Steam's customised horseless chariot. "This way, if you please. His Lordship is, I believe, in the Library." he said, escorting the two guests into the Manor proper. "What is this place?" mumbled Tobias "what crazy guy lives here? it's all...brass...copper...holey! is that steam coming out of that television?" he gasped, referring to some crackling brass television set with some outrageously extravagant copper wiring. " "What crackpot have you brought me too? how is this going to help!"

Still able to take 20. Your call, you will find some clues with that. Otherwise I will throw stuff at you! ;)

GM "Wha....?" said the startled Oshima. Before he knew it, he had been disarmed. His hand actually fired the imaginary gun, his trigger finger twitching in mid-air. "Holey...Silhouette....fast...." he mumbled. "I can't go the police" he sobbed "I'm in it, I just got over my head, took some...deals...I shouldn't have" he said, still holding his empty hand like a pistol. "Well now they are going to kill my family, and its their blood on your hands, Silhouette!" he said, his red eyes looking accusingly at Carrie.

No clues... although you could take 20 on that search?

The mighty Synth, one year old and full of experience...err.... 1d20+5=16 well, could be worse. Has Scent and Tremorsense if that is pertinent.

GM Out of said car popped none other than Tobias Oshima. The man looked like he hadn't slept. He had bags under his eyes, his hair was a mess, and his suit ruffled. A tied, half undone, was slung lazily around his neck. And he was waving a small pistol in the air. It wasn't so small that it couldn't fire bullets, however. "Goddam you!" he yelled. The tone of the voice indicated he was, as he had said, desperate. And probably well past desperate into insane. "You gotta go and goddam screw me, didn't you?" he screeched at Carrie. "I'm in real trouble now, paid those men, and then, what do you know? Mr. Knuckles comes and kicks down my door with his two equally simian friends, and now they kidnapped my wife, my daughter!" He was completely hysterical. "So, you didn't just screw me over, lady, you screwed my family over too. So, I may as well pull the damn trigger myself!" He pointed the gun at his temple. "If you don't rescue my family, I'm going to shoot myself and it's going to be your own Goddamn fault!!!"

GM The pure power of the blow, tainted and augmented by the unfettered rage of the Beast Rune, would have splintered normal steel. Gauntlet sank to one knee, his iron skin dented and deformed with the mark of a claw. "Now you see the power. The power of the beast. Only unleashed is it strong, and only chained can one use it..." it rasped. The ragged teenager spat at both Gauntlet and Marcus. It was plain to all three that each of them were part and parcel, connected in some way to the Rune. In Gauntlet's case, chained and frenzied by the metal cage of the cult. Marcus, trying to balance the forces of rage and control, and the girl...the girl was wild, chaotic, and totally unleashed. However unbound she was, she seemed to choose Gauntlet as her target for retaliation. Her form grew more animal, hair, muscles, and claws rippling over her body to create some mad anthomorphic beast. The thing then pounced with uncanny speed, straight onto the shoulders and head of Gauntlet, balancing their and sending those sinewed claws straight to his helm. Fast she was, but wild and unskilled. Gauntlet on the other hand, was slow but smelted with the experience of the warlike conquestidors. He grabbed her arms as they descended and held them with his superior forged strength.

1d20+12=29 Lucky swine! however, against a critical thats still another injury! Just keeping track 18 Marcus - 2 HP - Unharmed 17 Feral - Unharmed 7 Gauntlet - 3 Injuries. Feral will turn, and reassign PPs +20 CON [20 pp], +12 STR [12pp], Strike 5, mighty, improved crit 2 [8pp], with 10PP to spare. She is going to launch herself at Gauntlet. 1d20+10=14 Which actually "misses" him. Gauntlet will respond by grappling Ferral, or trying too: 1d20+6=26 le critical! Opposed Grapple Check: Gauntlet 1d20+32=45 Ferral: 1d20+15=20 no chance, bound.

GM The smoke filled the shop, which was actually a fairly enclosed space. It was impossible to see further that ones hand, and then, only if one had ones hand bang up to ones nose. In such a confined space, the smoke was barely less oppressive than the flies. But it was working. The flies were dropping, or leaving, along with the plumes of smoke folding away from the shop. "Manuum of Peruro mos operor suum opus! Vereor suus manuum!"* came the rasping voice of the old woman, her hands grabbing through the smoke, blindly. "Ack! My wares!" wailed the Butcher "Flies! Gas! what next??? the woman! oh spirictus sancti and all of that, my poor soul, Lord forgive me!!! Lord, I am sorry I haven't confessed for my sins!!! forgive this sinner!!!" *Translation

"Damned or not" said Supercape, furrowing his brow in concentration "if its radiowaves, I can pick them up. And follow them right back to their source. Even trace their, errr, shadow..." he mumbled as a way of handwaving what was, to him, complicated quantum entanglement theories. He could already sense the pattern and track it. "As for what to do with our friend here, I would suggest either a sweet slumber or bringing him with us. Preferably, I might add, the former. The poor man has probably had quite enough excitement for one day..."

Can we say one hour has passed and consumate recovery rolls for all involved!

GM "What?" spluttered the Jailor. "You don't want to hear my singing?" he said, split between indignation and disbelief. "I'm just trying to make this eternal incarceration and gloating by our glorious queen a little more palatable, you know. I'm sticking my neck out for you... if the Queen heard that I was mitigating your unending misery with some song, she would be most displeased. Hmph. Well, suit yourself, madam. And enjoy your infinite stay!" Shaking his head, he strolled off, muttering to himself, and starting up a song as he wandered up the stairs, only dimly heard and fading away... "New prisoner, New prisoner, merry welcome to her... Not worth a spit, She thinks she's a wit... The truth is, the truth is, she's right in the... Meanwhile... The connection to Haley was true. The brave raccoon had recovered, and fled as the battered Queen executed her revenge on the defiant Equinox. The last sight of her was examining her new prize, Equinox's wand!

GM "Very impressive" said M with a smirk "a perfect match. Apart from your class of course. That, dear madam" he said, holding a cup of tea elegantly to his lips and drinking it in an equally refined manner, "comes with breeding, and is inimitable!" A bit later... "Tally ho! Chocks away!" Sgt. McSaunders was a man with a magnificent moustache, a cheerful attitude, and some spiffy goggles. The experienced soldier - a member of the SZS* no less - he was also the pilot of the huge Zepplin that ascended slowly carrying the three heroes across the Atlantic. It's descent may have been slow, but its speed was impressive. Very Impressive. It was hard to understand how such a steam powered balloon could reach such velocities. The laws of physics on Earth Victoriana seemed slightly...bent. McSaunders gave the three heroes a salute as they plowed over Ireland and across the ocean. "Good to have you onboard, chaps!" he roared. "Wind's in our favour, all systems tickety boo. Should reach Texas in 16 hours. So get some sleep, and there are some hampers for you down back, with lashing's of ginger beer!" he laughed. "Flying this thing is a piece of cake really. Some spiffy difference engines, calculate windspeed, compass readings, all of that, keep us level. A bit like an automatic pilot, one might say, ho ho. Anyways, feel free to settle down, eat, sleep. Game of cards if you fancy!" The Zepplin plowed on, crossing the deep blue sea in a remarkably smooth ride.