Supercape

GM Marceau's revelation about his infective status caused a slight, but audible murmur of worry in the queue. "Alez! I hope you don't come to near our meats with that infection!" shouted the Butcher, hacking into a piece of liver with a heavy sharp knife. "Don't get to close!" The queue shuffled again. One person stood in front of Phillipe, getting served. Then Phillipe, then Marceau, then the Latin mumbling old lady. She was a small woman, in her seventies perhaps, wrapped up very warm, with a woven basket, dark glasses, and headscalf. She looked weathered, and infirm, but still had life in her yet. She was five foot at most, and didn't look at Marceau when she was spoken to, keeping her eyes fixed ahead of her. "I'm sorry dear..." she mumbled, with what seemed genuine sincerity. "Next!" called the Butcher, as Phillipe moved up to be served, and a satisfied fat man walked away with a haunch of kangaroo meat.

GM "As you wish" replied M, congenially, putting the official papers to one side, but not discarded. They were carefully placed so that one could easily take one if one wished. "These papers are your choice. And, as you say, a double edged sword. On the one hand, if they are discovered, yes, some part of your cover will be blown. On the other hand, without them, you are aliens with no rights. Texas has a variable relationship with the law, but they do have some legal system, even if it is rather tattered and bent at times. These papers do provide you at least with an official identity and some protection. Texas is neither our ally nor our enemy, but even they, crazy and unpredictable as they are, would think twice before executing a British citizen at a whim. They wouldn't think once if you were without any identity. " He leant back and pressed his fingers together quite satisfied. The papers lay on his desk, untouched. "In either scenario, you have our support. The Zepplin is warming up as we speak and we can go at any time. You have our resources at your disposal. Texan dollars, for starters. Generous, but not infinite" he said pointedly. "Staff, equipment, the services of our mistress of disguise, Madam Redpowder. Whatever you wish. "

Synth looked at Catalyst with a kindly smile on my face. "I can take care of myself" she said evenly. "I am afraid I don't know much about mental illness, but thanks for informing me". She let out a quiet sigh. "So much to know. Stranger in a strange land..." she whispered to herself. It had been one of Dr. Nyberg's expressions. "Acute paranoia? Shouldn't he get treated?" she asked Catalyst with genuine curiosity "It sound's horrible for him. We can't let him suffer like that..." She looked at the door through which Jake had departed. "I'll speak to Diedre, perhaps she will know what to do. She has really helped, in her own way" she said quietly. "And yes, I would love to help you, Catalyst. We must find out what's happening to these men and women, and stop it. I could do with your brains!" she laughed, wholesomely. "But I think you will find me helpful. If there is any physical conflict required, I am very strong and fast..."

GM "mmmm! tasty tasty blood!" rasped Nora. "The hunger is so much less, When there is a bloody mess!" She sang, almost in a trance, and fairly off tune. "Blood sounds good. You have lots of blood in you!" she said to Nick, eyeing him up "even if you are a bit scrawny. I could...let it out!" she said with a toothy grin. "Or Steve, yes! he ran away, but he has plenty of blood in him he doesn't need! well, maybe he does, but we need it more!"

"Possibly" replied Supercape, peering at the symbols with a good deal of caution. They needed, he had decided, to be treated with respect. "I can't say I have seen them before" he said "at least not like this. I think I would remember, as I am sure you can appreciate. But it does look slightly like the symbols they were working on to indicate radioactive material dumping. It might be a warning. That might make some kind of perverted sense, the way these horros look, nobody would want to go near them." He looked straight down at the earth. "And I did pick up something deep down there. Some complex energy signature. It had a beta over sigma cubed inverse entropy effect which when plotted against the nth dimensional velocity of..." He paused, and looked around. "Yes, well, maybe another time. It was complex. And I picked up a similar reading in this man's head. I think quarantine really is a good idea..."

"Impressive!" commented Rene at Madame Zero's herculean efforts to free herself. "Or, as the rapscallion youth of this uncultured country would say..." he continued, slightly spitting the words. "Cool!...hehe!" he chuckled to himself. "*Ahem*, Oui, and also we must stop you, Madame!" he called out, with a bit more steel in his voice, hoping Fleur would not remind him of that quip later. Reality was just a canvas upon which Rene could paint with ancient, eternal, mystic power. For this, he decided to counter Madame Zero's ice with something hotter. He acknowledged within himself a sense of sympathy, even pity for her. It was not a happy story. He didn't want to hurt her. But stop her, oui. That he wanted. From the distance, a swirling, curling blast of hot air curled around like a brush stroke. IT was hard to say exactly what it was - like the distortions of a mirage, with rich orange and dusky hues. It felt like the blast of a day of desert heat all wrapped up into one angry zephyr, rushing to dessicate and suffocate all at once. And it slammed straight for Madame Zero.

Full Action: Stun Power, no shifting, descriptor will be "Heat wave"! 1d20+10=28 I imagine that hits. So thats a DC 22 Fort Save.

For reference, the environment can now be considered to be hot! As per p167/168 Rules: Every 10 minutes, a Fortitude check, DC 10 +1 Per previous check. Failure is a loss of 1 CON. ANy loss of CON causes fatigue, losing half of your CON causes exhaustion, CON of 3 or less is unconsciousness. I may fudge the time slightly, particularly as certain parts of the building will be hotter or colder.

GM The Russian looked shocked, and actually stumbled on numb feet as Omen pulled him along. "What?" he yelled "You serious? You mad! You is the Stupid Capes! You risk your life for little people? Pfah they are nothing! NOTHING!" he spat gazing at Omen in shock and awe. "You are the serious! You really are the burning for them...you crazy..." He shuffled along, following Omen, and using his free hand to pull his hair. "This is not good of the plan..." he muttered "This is not how happening meant to be. We got to get here out, look, smoke, fire, hot...we got to get out....please, mister the Omen! using the brain! what you doing? how you survive?" The man was now swearing badly, although it was hard to tell whether it was from fear or heat, or both. Because it was getting hot...

1d20+6=7 You succeed!

"Aha!" said the man, breaking out into a broad smile "you know Uncle Verdoux! Oui! Oui! He is my father's younger brother, and we all love him! Ah, I miss him, gone to America to make his fortune and bring some proper food and wine to that ghastly place!" He seemed genuinely happy, and shuffled along one space as the queue shortened. "Oh, but how do you know him! Ah, I must visit him, have a proper party! I am a cook myself you know, I work here in the restaurant business, maybe I am trying to follow in his footsteps! But, if you know Uncle Verdoux, then you are a friend of mine!" "viscus vadum putesco"* muttered the Lady behind Marceaux in a hoarse rasping voice. "Come, friend, embrace me!" said the cheerful Phillipe. * Translation (Spoiler)

GM "Ah but of course Madame!" replied the manager, with a trace of a faux French accent. "I do hope you enjoy your stay at the Wilde hotel!" he said, almost fawning over what he presumed was a wealthy starlet. "Manuel! One Pot of English Tea! Pronto! Pronto!" he snapped at a passing porter, who jumped to attention, heels clicking, and sped off. "What Room would you like?" he asked politely "We have a few single's a few double's and of course the executive suite is free, if Madame would care to avail herself of the very finest luxury service one can buy in the Empire! Of course, it is quite expensive, but I can assure Madame it will be an experience not to be forgot!" he added, twirling an upright finger infront of him to add particular emphasis. "I can arrange your luggage to be taken, of course" he said "and please, if there is anything Madame would care for, then please do not hesitate to ask!"

Good enough for me! And you can add attractive to that to make it 25, shifting him from indifferent (the snooty nosed guy!) to helpful!!!

Meanwhile... Rene say by the shattered door of Parkhurst hotel, half wondering who was going to repair that. If need be, he had the money of course. Hopefully someone else had some handy carpentry and masonry spell. His beret was slightly askew and his eyes were closed. He could feel the dog's mind, and the little runt had been dutifully running alongside Marcus. "What's this!" he blurted, and his eyes opened wide. Another beast rune? something that had been drawn to the brawl between Marcus and the Iron, chained, rune of Gauntlet. And something wild and strong enough to dsitract Gauntlet from his initial prize. Oh, the cult was going to be rubbing its hands at this...he thought to himself. Marcus had ended up being the bait for the bigger fish! He was too old, and too fatigued, to do much about it, he conceded. He just hoped Marcus had his wits about him and did not let the Beast Rune command him... Back in Wharton Forest...

Feral 1d20+7=17 Gauntlet 1d20-4=7 18 Marcus - 2 HP - Unharmed 17 Feral - Unharmed 7 Gauntlet - 2 Injuries. Marcus is up!

You may indeed! Post IC and ill take it from there in terms of mechanics! In this realm you can pretty much do anything.

Ill take 10 for a 30, if taking 10 not possible 1d20+20=31 virtually the same result

I think that calls for a bluff check! to see if Russian believes that you would rather burn them both than let them walk outside!

If you wish to roll for initiative / combat, go ahead! As Gauntlet is immune to intimidate, I wont ask for a roll there!

Could you throw me a diplomacy roll for that? Oh, and its about time to see if you recover from Sickened condition I think! DC 9 to shake off.

No railroading! What Omen does is entirely up to you. And then we work out how to resolve it! If its a strength contest, then yes, it would be STR, but exactly what you do and describe it, lets go from there...?

GM "In the queue please!" shouted the butcher serving up the various exotic meat stuffs. The place was busy - a queue of six people were already waiting to be served, and a little old lady joined Marceau soon after. The man in front of Marceau muttered "always so damn busy in here, you would think they would get some more staff. Damnit, but there is nowhere else to buy salted alligator meat!" He turned to Marceau, nodding at him. "What are you here for monsieur? haven't seen you here before...chef? restaurant owner?" He held out his hand "Phillipe Verdoux, at your service!" he said with a friendly smile. He did look vaguely familiar...

Ok, Big Russian has STR 16 (which you would know from your assessment of his tugging strength!). Next action is up to you, but it may well include some dice rolls, as he is resisting you!

GM The big Russian resisted the pull - and he was surprisingly strong, as well as heavy. "No no!" he said, more seriously "We got out now, I make Citizens Arrest on Omen, everything works out well, niet?" He used both hands to tug Omen back, his laugh failing as he realised Omen was just as strong, if not stronger. "Come, come" he said "no-body wants to burn alive, do they? saving of the own skin, as you say!" He looked around, seeing the bellowing smoke start to creep over the ceiling and out of the hole where Omen had busted into the building. "Saving of the skin, it good, yes?" he asked Omen, wrestling with the handcuffs.

You find some approproate shop! go post IC (I leave the fluff details to you!)