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Icons Issue 1 : Withdrawal Symptoms
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'hmmm probably best to hold back for now RUPERT. But thanks! Maybe run the scan anyway'
"Commencing Scan....."
T-7Shelly grabs the putty like lump and begins chewing, she also grabs hold of the rod and begins running through the south doors. Once she has swallowed the lump she screams 'hippy hi ho futher muckers'.
Somewhat miraculously there is no tamper proofing. Still chewing, she enters the staff room where several men in chefs whites are dancing around near the stairwell screaming at each other
"Red!"
"Blue!"
"Grabben le chat!"
...when she's punched hard in the chest by an unseen hand.
As he takes his seat RUPERT lets out a strange digitised warble and tries to angle away as the shockwave from the massive sudden thermal event he just scanned hits.Nebelwerfer wrote: »MosCow follows the others, to tha choppa, to safety.
"Thanks guys! Really appreciate you waiting for this old man".
He proceeds to profusely apologize his delay may have caused.
A jet of flame erupts from the stairwell, chunks of masonry flying in their wake - the copter is struck, spinning out of control.
(It crashes next turn, but there's time to act.)0 -
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That's the second time in a row that Plas and Shelly are unconscious for the same number of rounds - that's the Scurry Bond, I expect!
@Necro - yes, that's a success
@Nebel - You have a move in hand, so you may or may not be in RUPERT when this happens....
Seeing her ward incapacitated, and the screaming swirling lump of metal tumbling towards them, Squirramorph's brain desperately cries out for aid. A multitude of answers come from discarded washing machines, tumble driers, refrigerators, microwaves - an army of forgotten appliances given one last chance at providing useful service.
On flapping doors and whipping power cords they crawl and tumble, forming a rudimentary curved barricade between Squirramorph and the falling copter. The washers and driers eject their facias, their drums rotating out and pulling together, forming a rapidly spinning shell, and with scant milliseconds to spare; RUPERT hits, his twisted remains conducted up and over, crashing "safely" to a halt on lean-to behind the group. Nobody screams, so it was probably unoccupied. Probably.
And then it's quiet, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the crackle of flames from the burning chocolate factory.0 -
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As the wreckage rolls to a halt, a door falls open, vomiting out a hairy but unharmed mass.
From around the yard, a few wretched forms crawl out of lean-tos and improvised shacks - some now without critical load-bearing members since Squirramorph co-opted them - gathering up their meagre belongings and fleeing the conflagration across the road.
Up above, the train begins to move again. As it passes, a figure leaps from it's roof, swan-diving towards the ground - but this is no depressed commuter! At the last second something flies from their hand, catching the edge of the roof of the blazing building, allowing them to swing safely to the ground whereupon they tuck, roll and leap into a flying kick that knocks the rear door of the Chocolatiers inwards, and the figure swiftly follows.
(Plas and Shelly - 7 turns to go)0 -
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OOC: I haven't the foggiest, but I assume Squiramorph would... :cool:
Sorry for the delay but I'm sure you'll agree the results were worth it.
Squirramorph rummages in the wreckage and pulls out RUPERT's AI Core, which for legal reasons is definitely not C3P0s eyes cut and pasted onto the head of Goliath.
The hairs encasing MosCowlick begin to recede, allowing him to move again and assess his injuries (which are minimal).
(2/8, unconsciousarinos!)0 -
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(After seeing the VtM LARP thread appear, I can't take the chance that one day a wandering super hero RPer will happen by and reopen this wound, so I must cut off the limb and cauterise the stump!)
As our "heroes" stand in stunned silence, the doors to the Chocolatier slam open again, that same figure reappearing but moving far less gracefully, dragging something - no, someone - behind her as she splutters her way through to the relative safety of the heli-wreckage strewn yard. She lifts her PVC-hooded head to talk but is silenced by a deafening cry of "SHAZBOT!" as a bolt of lightning splits the sky, and a hugely impressive behemoth of a man splits the pavement that dares halt his descent. As he stands, his gargantuan chesticles thrust proudly before him and a billowing blue cloak behind, you are all awed into silence. No need to roll.
"It is I!" he booms, "Captain Closure!" He beats a mighty fist on the large C emblem on his mighty chest. "The loom that weaves the tapestry of chronicle from the threads of fate!"
The BDSM-bedecked woman chokes out a "Building… *cough*… Collapse… *hack*… Someone … *bleurgh*… In there…"
"Fear not, Betty Noire! The building cannot collapse!"
As if on cue, the building collapses - all but the north eastern corner which seems to be held in place by something that - despite the flames, despite the sheer weight of unsupported metal and masonry - refuses to give.
"Just as that Chocolatier stood as a single outpost of civility in the debased chaos of the Skillet, there is something in that building stronger than the maelstrom of discord around it. Around her. For as long as Shelly Bridges lives, that building shall stand - a metaphor for how we as heroes uphold the very fabric of Civilisation itself! And live she shall - so speaks The Captain!"
No really, the rules around fire damage suggest that she can only be knocked unconscious over and over again and never actually die.
The man Betty Noire dragged from the fire expectorates heavily and skitters to his feet.
"Not so fast, D'Olier!" Betty wheezes but D'Olier just smiles, slams his right hand onto the bangle on his left arm and shouts
"Tech Support!". A blue-white portal opens behind him and a short bespectacled pulls D'Olier in as the portal irises closed.
"Let him go, Ms Noire" the Captain advises. "I believe that's the last we'll see of him - his thread was too thin to weave - it can't have been important. And neither, I suspect is your own - Begone!" and before she can complain she disappears with an audible pop and a brief gust of wind.
The Big C cups his hand to his ear theatrically - the air is suddenly alive with the wail of sirens. Squad cars and vans screech as they halt in a cordon around the yard. There are a cascade of clicks as weapons are brought to bear. Through a loudhailer a grim voice growls
"Freeze punks! Energy Commission Enforcement! Elizabeth Edwards aka Brenda Tomlinson aka the vigilante Squirramorph - you are under arrest for the use of… " - there is some murmuring - "*ahem* the illegal use of an extra-terrestrial fusion reactor in a domestic.. uh… domocile! You have the right to - you know what, you ain't got no rights, lady - you sided with da aliens! Rights is for earthlings! Cuff her boys!"
Before she can react, heavy manacles are clamped around her wrists and she's dragged away to an unmarked armoured SUV. On the ground, Plasma Squirrel begins to come to. A tired-looking woman with a clip board shuffles forward, putting a foil blanket around his shoulders.
"Don't worry Nathan, the bad lady is gone. But everything is going to be ok, you won't be alone - we've found you a wonderful new family to live with, they're new in town and they've been looking for a boy like you their whole lives!" She helps him over to meet Cyrus and Caroline Grey, a delightfully bushy-eyebrowed couple who definitely don't have tails, they're just standing beside 2 large grey bushes you don't remember seeing earlier.
"Oh Nate! We're so happy to meet you! I feel like we've searched a whole galaxy for you, but we definitely only came from 1 state over. 2 max. I mean, look at my maxi-dress! Could we be any more earthling?" Caroline gushes, offering a giant motherly hug with one hand while the other digs deep into a heavily laden pocket and gestures at their vehicle. "Get in the ship. CAR! I meant car! Everything's going to be all right now." There's a beeeeooooop from her pocket which is probably just the car alarm disengaging and not a mini positron collider powering up.
As the Grey's car disappears up a hill - there was a hill wasn't there? It must have been a hill, I mean how else would a car… I digress - the Captain Turns his eye to MosCow.
"And I suppose you want your Bank Loan? Why, my dear Scarecrow - I mean MosCow - anybody can have a Loan. That's a very mediocre commodity. Every pusillanimous creature that crawls on the Earth or slinks through slimy seas and has some kind of collateral has a loan. Back where I come from, we have Credit Unions, seats of great finance, where men and women go to open accounts that they never lodge any money into because it somehow makes it easier to get a mortgage. And when they come out, they have deep pockets and with no more money than you have. But they have one thing you haven't got: a credit rating!"
He reaches into his bag and pulls out a print out, handing it to the adventurous agriculturist, and then dismisses him with a wave that sends Moscow hurtling off southwards into the night air.
"And finally Indigo Spirit. There is much we must discuss. But not here…."
A blink and they are in a spacious walnut-lined office, before them floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city lights twinkling far below. Behind them a desk with a suspiciously large amount of a glasses, bottles and ornaments strewn around them.
"Did Hamilton ever explain how the nanonic paste works? Did he ever show you the close ups from the femtoscope? You're harnessing karma, mr Spirit. Not your own, but that of the countless individuals in the bottled galaxies that make up your spinal fluid. Every good act you do must be balanced with evil, when you are strong they must be made weak, when you show valour they must know fear. Countless lives, immeasurable suffering, on a near universal scale. So tell me, Indigo, what is a hero and who's the real villain?
Anyway - feel free to pound on the windows or sweep the desk clear a few times while you wrestle with your angst."
Captain Closure exits the office, bumping into the Mayor in the hallway.
"Ah, former high court judge turned vigilante turned politician Justice Justin "the Just" Justicar! Fancy seeing you here!"
"Please, Captain, it's just Justice Justin to you. I'm so glad I found you - there's just so much to do! The Skillet is out of control, the Biriccino family are causing problems in the north, Red Bratva and W.A.N.C. are running wild in the south, FlexCo is engaged in a corporate war with the Dubois-Tokogawa that's spilling out of the boardroom and into the streets, someone's eaten all the fried chicken, Mer Master is threatening the new airport runway development, Man O'Paws has taken my husband - that's right, I'm a progressive ex-judge, TWIST! - hostage and there are reports of a 40 storey Rabbi using kung fu to cause massive property damage in the docklands. The city needs you now more than ever!"
"Well, Mr Mayor - those sound more like story beginnings than story endings. Not really my thing…. But look out there - see that bright star in the sky? Make a wish."
"I wish all this chaos was over…. Hey…. That star looks bigger than it did a minute ago."
"It sure does, Mr Mayor. It sure does…."
The End.
Belated thanks for playing and apologies for putting you through it
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