Supercape

"Catch anything?" Rene inquired under his breath, leaning over to the younger man. Dr. Singh was giving his speech, talking about the Kali death cults of India, and the Thuggee during the British Raj. Much of this was regular history, although Rene kept his ears and eyes open. Nothing directly suspicious, but of course it had the flavour of necromancy written all over it. He gave Nick a gentle elbow and nodded at the compass he held at knee height "whatever the good doctor is saying, it seems that the icon is full of necromantic energies. What I don't get is what its doing here, and what Dr. Singh has to do with it all..."

GM As Nick was prowling the hallways, a middle aged man, of Indian descent, walked straight past him, carefully holding the icon itself! He was wearing a neat, clean and professional suit and tie, alongside a neatly trimmed beard and functional spectacles. He was muttering to himself in some language he didn't understand. As he brushed past Nick, a slight chill ran up the hero's spine. Something quite new. Doctor Singh took the podium to polite and enthusiastic applause of moderate volume. Rene had joined in. Looks respectable enough he though, scrutinising the man. He glanced down to his compass, noting the dial had swung straight towards the icon that now rested on the table besides Doctor Singh.

"Good evening, Mr. O'Hagan" said Slick, striding into the Crack den as bold as brass. The fumes here were quite intoxicating. Knuckles nearly jumped out of his skin, pulling his Glock on Slick, as his cronies did the same. The woman to his side pulled a revolver from some unseen part of her clothing (the little she wore) and snarled. Clearly she was as street-hardened as the rest of the crew. "Stop right there! Or I'll bust your ass!" shouted Knuckles over the loud dub music. "Who on God's Earth are you, walking in here lioke you owns the place?" Slick paused for a moment, giving what he hoped was a winning smile. "You can call me Mr.... Caine. And the my... protection... Ms. Fly. High tech stuff those" he continued, pointing at her gauntlets "before you think I didn't come here without a shooter. Not that I came here to shoot" "Well what in blazes did you come here for?" asked Knuckles, angry but interested. "Perhaps you would care to do some... business?" asked Slick with a crooked smile. Knuckles paused, scrutinising Slick. "I may be" he replied. "... to the right partner..."

Well, she is hidden for starters, you could make a stealth roll vs DC 10 to get +2 just on the disarm roll, and then, yes, a disarm would be fine. Given he has a STR of 2, he is unlikely to win it... His disarm opposed roll is 1d20-4=6 - so not too tough! If you disarm him, you can snatch the freezonium from him. Its nasty stuff to you however, a toughness check DC 25 lethal damage attack. If you want to just drop it, then ill half that too DC 20. And you get +2 for your woolly mits on the roll!

OK magnificent bluff time from Slick Giving a +2 Situation modifier for morphing. 1d20+7=18 And on that subject, disguise roll 1d20+13=31 Which Knuckles cant beat!

GM "To be honest, I don't know all the details of how I work. I have people for that. I do have a knowledge of jet engines, and my body uses some similarities, but the whole details are beyond even me."

Supercape would be up for a "Lab" thread with Goss.

Rene clutched his head, still ringing from the pounding it had received. "I've had worse" he replied. It was true. The cannonfire in the revolution sprung to mind. He glanced around "but I fear the danger is not over yet..." he swept his arm around the multitude of large present boxes stored in the room. "We appear to be sitting on a stock pile of bombs and other nefarious devices. And someone is controlling them all!"

Feel free to smash in IC! From a rules perspective, I would personally be clear that immunity to suffocation is just that. Immunity to gas attacks would have to be bought in addition: although I wouldn't have thought it would cost much! Of course, that's a rule up for discussion, but it would be how I would interpret it!

As Rene and VIctory fought, a small beeping sound emitted from one of the presents, and the lid blew off. A second later, a cloud of gas sprayed from the open present across the room. Tear gas! Rene covered his eyes and mouth but could still feel the tears and coughing swelling up inside him despite his magical protections. Of course he realised perfect defence! robots would be unaffected!

Which means Toy Boy is up, and activating a pressie! Boomf! Tear Gas Grenade! [as per Core book equipment] DC 14 Fort save, Visual Dazzle and Nauseate. 1d20+7=14 for Rene... Just!

"Merci, my friend!" replied Rene, as his muzzy head received two more steel fists to either side. Where it not for the fact that they both collided with computer precision at identical time, and thus stopped his head from lolling either one way or the other, he may well have been knocked out cold. As it was, combined with his magical talisman, the head on collision effectively just cleared his head. "Zut Alors!" he exclaimed, thanking his fortune, before a bolt of mystic force erupted from the floor towards the robot to his left. Perhaps it was the groggy head, but it whispered through the air missing its target, before slowing down and doubling back, ready to try again.

Rene thus fights back, with a mystic blast! 1d20+8=9 .... Could he be rolling any worse in this thread? Well, I will let that go, it will no doubt home in next round. Onto next round! Toy Boy - 13 - Unharmed, Hidden Victory - 11 - 1 HP. Unharmed Elves, 8 - Unharmed, 2 Left Rene - 6, 3 HP, Bruised, Mystic Blast homing in on Elf 1

Forgot to say it was New turn Toy Boy - 13 - Unharmed, Hidden Victory - 11 - 1 HP. Unharmed Elves, 8 - Unharmed, 4 Left Rene - 6, 4 HP, Stunned until [8] Yes, Victory is up and can smash two bots! The two remaining Elves by Rene will continue swinging at him... 1d20+5=15, 1d20+5=15 Unfortunately, both hit, as he is flat footed (stunned) 1d20+7=26, 1d20+7=11 First one is shaken off no trouble, the second one is pure ouch, so he will burn an HP to reroll. 1d20+7=15, with the +10 for reroll is 25, more than enough.

"Sounds good to me" nodded Slick agreement, as the oil started streaking down his face. In a few seconds, a young hipster face stared back at Nick, screaming "cocaine addicted high flyer" with dilated pupils and arrogantly flared nostrils. He took a few calming breaths, and nodded at Dragonfly "so, bodyguard, you ready to play the part?"

1d20+19=22 Rasputin stunned and injured! Carrie up next!

NOt strictly away, but mad mad busy for next few days...

The old man was a sitting duck. He was barely able to move, and writhing in pain from the raw freezonium in his chest. Grim could hardly have missed. His eyes rolled in further agony as his flesh suffered the further torment of Grim's assault. His fists clenched around his chest but his heart did not give out yet. Although perhaps the defiance in his eyes dimmed a little. Perhaps one could see a longing for rest rather than the endless clinging to life.

"Well, come, come have a look!" replied Rene, beckoning her over. The first draft was complete. It was more of a sketch really, but it had worked out magnificently. It would need a day or two to flesh out to full completeness, but Rene was confident. It had come so naturally to him and Stesha was a magnificent model. "What do you think?" he asked "It needs more work, of course. You cant capture the light here" he motioned to some sketched arrows indicating the play of light "until it is fully painted, but I think I have captured the essence of the bride to be, Non?"

GM The elves, seeing a new target, pottered off with a wobbling but surprisingly fast gate to each respective intruder. Victory was too fast for their powerful robot limbs, but Rene was less fortunate. "Ow" he moaned, as one robot caught him round the ear with a wheeling arm. Where it not for his magical protections, he would have been out like a light, as it was, despite the armour like protection it gave him, he still staggered and saw stars.

Yes, Rene is using up his turn with his complication: Creaky Bones, meaning he is a little unsprightly and hard of hearing to follow Victories turn of speed. All he can manage is getting into the room and presenting himself as a target! +1 HP. Talking is a free action! There are four robots left. Two move to Victory and start swinging... 1d20+5=15, 1d20+5=14 Both Miss 1d20+5=6, 1d20+5=24 One smashes Rene 1d20+8=12 And actually stuns / bruises him! Victory is up next!

Rene couldn't keep pace with Victory's speed. "Dammit, I'm an old man!" he muttered behind the Jet trail the cyborg had left. Rene couldn't hear Victory speak, but he could see him mouth some words. Time to follow him in to the next room. Ignoring his aching knees (damn the cold) he ran into the next room to see the trail of destruction that Victory had left behind. "What's that?" he yelled, cupping his hand over his ear.

"Well, he seems to have more protection than your average drug dealer" mused Slick, surveying the scene, and making sure she kept her voice as low as possible. "We have surprise on our side, but I wonder if we should try words first? not that these guys look to interested in talking, but you never know. Maybe a distraction, get some of these guys out - the gunslingers as well as the users". She looked to Dragonfly "any calculations on our attack, miss brains?" she asked.

Rene dared not look up, but gave Arc a friendly wave "Formidable!" he cheered, amid a stream of Sumerian chants. He grasped Mary's head with a friendly grip, and turned her head backwards to the eye. "Non, non, madame!" he admonished her "we must only face the true fear. That... thing is but a parasite, something from your own dreams. We must face the intruder!" The inscribed eye grew more desperate, and a hissing of steam emitted from the mud. "Neverrrr....!" hissed the voice, although it seemed that despite its defiance, something was going coming...

As Nick sneaked off, Rene waited patiently, examining the other attendees. People watching was always fun, of course, but he was carefully scrutinising them to see if anybody looked out of the ordinary, or mystic. The only two people who looked slightly out of place where a pair of young goths, probably in their early twenties, although Rene could not be sure. He glanced at the necro-compass but there was no indication of anything necromantic about those two. "Ladies and Gentlemen" came a female voice, the middle aged attractive lady who was, apparently, the compere of the evening, "Please take your seats, Dr. Singh will be speaking shortly".