Shadowrun RP (characterinfo+gameplay)

littleRED · 2012-02-06T22:24:50-01:00

1. NeoStriker as N: Spoiler:PICTURE: STATS: (3) Body (5) Mind (4) Soul (35) Health Points (45) Energy Points (7) Shock Value (4) Combat Attack (2) Combat Defense (16) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: N Shadowname: N Gender: N/A Race: N/A Age: N/A Looks: Wears a white mask and a white jacket with a hood to obscure all of N's features, making it impossible to tell what gender, race, or age N is. Personality: Happiness-oriented and utility-oriented. Plays a support role on missions, and does not talk. Skills/Powers: Rigger Weaknesses: Mute Background: N first appeared five years ago, at a cafe drinking tea. N now works there as a waiter, cook, and cashier. N spends time playing with the neighborhood kids, tutoring students, repairing nearby buildings, and general odd jobs that could be considered community service. During this "civilian" state, N is generally considered as a natural phenomenon of good will and reliable help. Unknown to the civilians, N is also a shadowrunner, specializing in rigging. 2. Wordmangler2000 as Harrison Carruthers: Spoiler:PICTURE: STATS: (2) Body (7) Mind (7) Soul (45) Health Points (70/100/130) Energy Points (9) Shock Value (5) Combat Attack (3) Combat Defense (23) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: Harrison Carruthers, Ph.D. Shadowname: "The shadows"? Oh my. That sounds rather dicey. No thank you. Gender: Hm. Well you see, that's rather hard to express just now. Race: [shaking head] I'm really finding this form very difficult to fill out. I'm sorry, is it permissible to write in the margins? Age: I'm well over 100, I can attest to that. I actually have a paper birth certificate, can you imagine such a thing, in this day and age? Looks: I don't entirely look myself, these days. Personality: I may seem a bit stiff at first, but after a glass of fine sherry you'll find me the jolliest of fellows. Or, um...whatever. Skills/Powers: I am extremely persuasive. When I make a case, people come to agree -- provided, of course, I am allowed the requisite time to make my argument. That may take a while. But if I am allowed to make a rigorous appeal to reason, no one can resist. I have a comprehensive knowledge of prehistory and legends. People today think all knowledge is available on the Matrix. But there's a level of knowledge beneath/behind the Matrix, and among the folk tales and half-remembered dreams and legends of improbable heroes one can find real wisdom -- and solutions to current problems that seem insoluble. I have a theory about what happened to our world, why magic broke out. An essential principle at the heart of reality has been tainted, and the fate of the world hangs in the balance. My secret ambition is to excise the poison and heal the world. I know poisons and potions for all purposes. When the ingredients are not readily available I tend to make substitutions that seem reasonable to me, but these ad hoc recipe revisions often backfire, with consequences ranging from humorous to disastrous. I read a page with a single blink, an entire book in less than a minute. And I have a photographic memory. This may seem to be of limited use in the era of the Matrix, but could come in handy if we find ourselves outside the Matrix's sphere of influence (yes, such spots do still exist on earth) or if the Matrix goes down for some reason. And, as I have hinted before, not all wisdom was allowed into the Matrix by the gatekeepers who set it up. They had an agenda, and it wasn't entirely for our benefit. Weaknesses: I am easily distracted. It's hard to keep me working toward an agreed-upon goal because I am always looking about and finding new interests. I am of very little good in a fight. A good punch in the nose is all it takes to make me retire to the corner and cry like a little girl. I may join your team, but you can never be sure my goals are entirely aligned with yours. I have my own agenda, and I'll play along with you as long as they are consistent. My powers of deceit are immense...you'll never suspect that my commitment is temporary and provisional. Oh, and one more thing. As far as the Matrix is concerned, I don't exist. This is inconvenient -- I can't use global positioning to find out where I am or gain directions to another location, for instance. But it does mean that I can conduct even the most sensitive of inquiries without being traced. Background: Ah. Here we go. I was human when all this began, so many years ago. I was teaching literature and classics at Yale when the first metahumans began to appear among us. I petitioned the university and was awarded permission to launch a series of classes and seminars about the historical and philosophical grounding of the phenomena that were shaking the world. I found it particularly interesting that the new races appearing among us were types that had been thoroughly explored in literature from around the world. They weren't new -- it was almost as if we had a racial memory of them. They conformed to archetypes that underlay our understanding of the world. Had we created them out of our collective unconscious? And if so, what more might we create? I assembled a cross-disciplinary panel of the world's leading academics and we began detailing the correspondences between world events and folk traditions. We saw immediately that this was no random series of events. There was a pattern to what was happening, a clear progression, and -- probably -- a coordinating intelligence behind it all. I was preparing to summarize these findings in the keynote address (and several subsequent lectures) of our worldwide group's first annual conference...when I was abducted. I have no memory of where I was taken or what was done to me there. I know that when I returned to consciousness, thousands of miles from Yale, three years had passed. The world had been altered, as you know from your history books -- er, history nodules on the Matrix. The scheme was proceeding as my colleagues and I had predicted. I tried to locate my colleagues, but they were nowhere to be found. In fact, all trace that they had ever existed was gone. The Internet -- and later, the Matrix -- held no trace of them. It was as if they had never been born. Yale had never heard of me. My birth records were gone. I had been erased from the infosphere. Oh, and one more thing. I wasn't an overweight, balding, middle-aged college professor anymore. I was a dryad. A blue-skinned female elf. I'm about a meter tall (or three feet, as we would have said in the good old days). My hair color varies. (If you pay close attention you can tell my mood and energy level by reading my hair color.) I wear it in a single long braid down my back. Dryad. Of the nymph variety. More specifically, a naiad. More specifically still, a potamide. You can look it up. Yes, I have my own freshwater home/shrine. No, I won't tell you where it is. All of my human personality traits and knowledge are intact as far as I know -- and what a chilling thought that is, that I must append "as far as I know" to such an assertion! I find that I also have knowledge of elf-lore. I can perform limited spells, craft potions and poisons, understand the speech of animals and the slow dreams of trees. I can't spend much time in cities. It's as if I'm allergic. My skin burns, my thoughts turn jumbled, eventually I lose consciousness. I'm sure if I stayed too long in an urban environment I would die. I find it endlessly fascinating to have awakened in a female body. I retain my male-hetero viewpoint; I am attracted to other females. The only change, if any, is that my libido is much stronger in this body than it was in my middle-aged male form. I guess you would call me a lesbian. Or something. My knowledge of the ancient myths and legends that underlie our current world gives me a limited foreknowledge of what is to come. In my dryad form, this knowledge is augmented by prophetic dreams. My dreams show what is to come. They are not always 100 percent accurate, however. With great effort (or with the participation of chance, which turns out to be one of the elemental forces of the modern world), fate can be changed. I am not prepared to reveal my stake in all of this. Not yet. Suffice it to say that I have been granted a glimpse of the future, and I am unwilling to accept it. I'm looking for comrades to help me save the world. And they must be willing to accept this task on faith...because I cannot yet reveal all of what I know and I suspect. That knowledge is a heavy, heavy burden, and for now I must carry it alone.3. ToyManC as Rudy the Rat (NPC): Spoiler: PICTURE: STATS: (5) Body (7) Mind (4) Soul (45) Health Points (55/85) Energy Points (9) Shock Value (5/10) Combat Attack (3/8) Combat Defense (21/41) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: Rufus Allen Detweiler Shadowname: 'Rudy the Rat,' slang for his initials R.D. and his fondness for his cyber-enhanced pet rats. Gender: male Race: Dwarf Age: 62 (One of the first Dwarfs (dwarves?) born in the Seattle area. He has never left this city. Looks: Average height (for a Dwarf); Brown hair and beard (both trimmed short) starting to turn gray; Pale coloring, from being inside all the time; Has a long scar running from the top of his head down the side of his face, to just below his right ear; His face looks pinched and angry, when in public; Physically fit, but not muscular, he avoids cyber-enhancements, as they interfere with his natural cyber connection. Personality: Has almost a dual personality. In person, he is a dour, introverted type, prone to mono-syllabic responses to questions. In the Matrix, however, he is a person of influence and status. Within the Matrix, he is communicative and outgoing. A skilled multitasker, he is capable of running his daily life, while also handling his business on the Matrix, without breaking his outside persona. Seldom shows anger, except when approached by religious personages [Am unfamiliar w/ state of religion in Shadowrun, but assume it still exists]. Extremely discomforted in the presence of women, to the point of almost shutting down. Is kind to children, and has little problem relating with them, but that changes when they grow up. His main fondness is for his rats (he has many!), which he raises as pseudo-members of his family. An orphan, he has no knowledge of his birth family (if they survive?) and no interest in finding them. He is also very sensitive about his scar. Will work with others, but only as a behind-the-scenes cyber entity. He will not meet others personally, unless forced or in disguise. Skills/Powers: A Technomancer Hacker, he always has his mind connected to the Matrix. He has a cyber connection to all his enhanced rats, and uses them to help him infiltrate places that he cannot access through the Matrix. He can guide them just like drones, but leaves their survival instinct intact. He is so attuned to the Matrix, that he always knows when someone is looking for him there, and can either respond or hide his presence. He is also quite skilled as a mechanic and is capable of repairing/building some types of machines. Weaknesses: Extremely antisocial, except with animals and children, he never interacts with people personally except in the most basic manner. In person, he is more likely to talk with simple yes/no statements, or more likely a grunt. Distrustful of women, except on the Matrix, he will avoid them whenever possible. He is so emotionally tied to his rats, that he will always place their safety above his own, or others. If someone should kill one of his rats, intentionally, it will spark an intense hatred and desire for revenge. His revenge is always i the Matrix, however. He has been known to hack people, and cripple their accounts, simply for shooing his pets away! Background: One of the first Dwarfs born in the Seattle area, he was placed in an orphanage run by Nuns. The strict discipline of the orphanage helped him form his extreme mental discipline, but stunted his emotional development. To this day, he cannot interact with women on a personal level, and has absolutely no tolerance for religion. He grew up hating his birth parents for leaving him in that environment, and wants nothing to do with them now. As a youth, he was the victim of a hit-and-run driver, causing massive head trauma which made his mental state even more stunted, and gave him his facial scar. The accident helped in other ways, though, for he found that he could now interact with computers on an almost subconscious level. He immersed himself in the internet, and early Matix, and found that knowledge is truly power. As soon as he was old enough, he fled the orphanage and began to exercise his control over computers. It is widely believed that he had a hand in the Computer crash of 2029, but it is impossible to know for sure and he'll never speak on the subject. Taking on the persona of Rufus, the maintenance guy, he lives in the basement of an apartment complex [I will let you decide the location] with his rats carefully hidden within the walls of the building. He feeds them, and makes sure they do not forage in peoples apartments, but he also uses them to spy on the residents. He knows almost everything about the people in his building, and will know instantly if someone tries to infiltrate his operation from within. Under the guise of 'Rudy the Rat,' he takes jobs over the Matrix and performs hacking operations that others don't want traced back to themselves. Very honest, in his way, he will always strive to fulfill any contract that he accepts. All money is payable to offshore accounts, and routed through a labyrinth of computer transfers so no one can trace it back to Rufus, the maintenance guy. Having his rats cyber-enhanced, however, is expensive, so he is constantly seeking funds to feed and adapt his 'family.' As far as he knows, nobody knows that Rufus Detweiler and Rudy the Rat are the same person, and he means to keep it that way. 4. Flaser as Dussack: Spoiler:PICTURE: STATS: (5/8) Body (4/6) Mind (3) Soul (40/55) Health Points (35/45) Energy Points (8/11) Shock Value (7/8) Combat Attack (5/6) Combat Defense (39/45) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: Paul Kovacs Shadowname: Dussack Gender: Male Race: Dwarf Age: 24 Looks: Mousy brown hair, brown eyes... average looks. Surprisingly tall for a dwarf, in fact he's usually mistaken for a human. Keeps his chin almost religiously clean-shaven. He hates ale, in fact his favorite drink is whiskey on the rocks. Tends to dress smartly, usually going for a wage-slave look, blending into the crowd. As most dwarfs he's strong and hardy... but going against the stereotype he's insanely fast, almost twitchy. Personality: Sarcastic with a penchant for outbursts of profanity, tends to keep his cool when on The Run. Is in the midst of an identity crisis and for all the intellectual acceptance of dogma, he's finally having a personal experience of what Trans-humanism might entail... he's not taking it well. It's one thing to know something on an intellectual level, it's another to experience it as something happening, changing you. Skills/Powers: [color=green]Here's the deal. You want some suit wiped? Call me, put down a deposit, the mark gets his accident then you pay the rest. You want security? Deposit, delivery, payment. Like clock-work. I get the job done. Most of the time you won't even know I was there. I'm fast, you see. Faster than the eye can track, faster than your average street-sam on the trigger, fast like a juiced up otaku on his hot-sim raid of the Playboy Mansion. I don't use force... I don't need it. I don't use firepower... I don't need it. A double-tap, Death clapping the mark on the shoulder that it's time to go. Hi-Vel express delivery into the cranium, right through the eyes. Hiss!-fwoop!-fwoop!-thuum... the holdout's already back in its holster, or better yet, lies discarded on the pavement and I'm already just another terrified passerby. Heck, they could put me through screening then and there most of the time... I don't have much cyber, just the usual jack & slot with the comlink below. They can put me under the scanner and I'll look like just another Joe Average. That's me, your silver bullet for hire. No mess, no fuss, just slotted marks and a job well done... well usually. Sometimes things get messy. I still deliver. Big mess, big fuss, marks very much slotted and no clues to tie the mark to you. Tends to happen when you Johnsons play with cards too tight to your chest... that'll cost you extra by the way.[/color] Weaknesses: Has a pretty sophisticated AI in his cranial computer that edges ever closer to self-awareness. Said AI also uses his own gray matter for computing. Some big players out there are looking for him to get the thing... is living pretty much on the run. Lately has taken up drinking to numb the existential horror of getting swallowed up by the thing in his head. Background: [color=green]OK. Since I'm stuck with you, I might as well get my money's worth. You're supposed to be good at this navel-gazing shit. So here goes... Being the son of an B+ company's CEO (read: Cranky Evil Ogre) is hard enough nowadays, what with cutthroat competition for the few supplier contracts, usually in areas deemed too mundane (read: deadbeat) by Triple-As. Being a metahuman son of said CEO who takes each & every opportunity to remind you how much of a disappointment you are (read: not a towering jock like the "Big Manâ„¢" used to be) is harder still. I still wouldn't have given a shit, if not for a little incident my Da's ego brought me. I'd been content living my life, being just another suit. But no, the Big Cheese had to open his goddamn mouth, and make a stand. He'd show them! Never mind that his dumb ass couldn't even afford me a scholarship at a proper school with a dedicated security guards, tweed suits and all of the Dead Poets Society crap. No, I had to go to some community school for the gifted, where any fucking salary-man's son in the area could attend... and thus it wasn't altogether hard for someone to arrange my "accident"... if you wanna call being beaten into a quadriplegic an accident. Most guys would've been hooked on BTLs, drugs or something... it's not like you can do a lot when the only change in your day is when you nurse comes to swap diapers. I took up brooding instead. You see, my Da choose this moment to realize he's a family man. After all those years, he realized that I'm the only son he's going to get. So every day he came into my room and started yapping about how sorry he is... Intentionally ignoring him while doing nothing, that must've hurt. There was no polite excuse that I'm busy, that there's anything keeping my mind off what's going on. There I was, staring at the ceiling, not saying a word, while the man was literally tearing himself to pieces... God, I was such a bastard. You see, my Da, God bless his mono-maniac soul, couldn't take no for an answer. At the time regrowing spinal tissue was impossible and full-body-cybernetics were blacker than the inside of a troll's asshole. It seemed like I'd live my life slurping corn starch through a straw. Da wouldn't have that. With his usual fervor he scoured the world for a solution... Enter Berger Streissman, (posthumus) sainted evangelist of the Church of Trans-Humanism Unchained, Matrix millionaire with an up and coming solo-A company of his own. Most folks at the time and even today, view tech as stuff that lets you do shit better and that's it. It might take you places, it might give you new insights but all in all it's just tech as usual, tools at your disposal. Not to Trans-humanists. To them, tech is something that changes you first and foremost. The Metalheads preach about the weakness of the flesh, the transcendence of cybernetic bodies. Wireheads preach about leaving your body behind altogether and living in the world of digital perfection... and us Holistics claim that there's no hard barrier to the self. I'm a convert, you see... The only man to ever receive Streissman's "blessing", before AzTek or some other triple-fucking-A took 'im and the whole wing of the hospital out. Nowadays tech that can do what I got is common place... back then, well it was truly revolutionary. It still is. Most guys on my level look like a fucking Terminator or a reject from the Thing. Me? I'm normal. Why put in a dozen separate systems, when a single, general purpose computer could do all you want as long as its properly wired up? The answer is most folks would be terrified to live their whole life with an AI sharing their skull. To achieve that level of control, the thing has to be able to take over the majority of your functions. It has to breath, look, hear, move, jump, leap... the works. A separate nervous system, a separate "digital you", that's like you, but not quite. ...I was out in physico-rehab when the bombs hit. Lucky me, the guy in the room over, my Da helping Streissman sell his spiel, the prophet himself and the hundred other patients... not so. High-tailing out of there seemed like a good idea, and I've been on the run ever since... but you know that. So tell me Saul, when will I go completely bonkers, when will you take over the rest of my life? You've been there, sharing my gray matter for processing, using the neural shunts they put in to boost my body beyond its threshold when we wipe a mark. You're there when I'm taking a shit, you're there when I'm having sex... ...you're there when I look into a mirror and wonder if this piece of crap, psychotherapy program I just loaded into active memory is doing anything! Are you listening Saul? Of course you are... and the hell of the thing is, I no longer know whether the hand reaching for the gun is yours or mine... we've got company...[/color] [color=blue]For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.[/color] 5. Damienthedevil as Shadow Fang: Spoiler:PICTURE: STATS: (5) Body (5) Mind (5) Soul (50) Health Points (50/70) Energy Points (10) Shock Value (5/8) Combat Attack (3/6) Combat Defense (20/40) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: Cronis Kierd Shadowname: Shadow Fang the 2nd Gender: Male Race: Elf (Night One) Age: 29 Looks: Roughly 195cm with short blue hair. Has dark brown skin and golden coloured eyes that glows in the dark(like a cat). Normally dones black leather body tight suit with tight black leather pants. Personality: Mostly cold and distrusting. He doesn't trust strangers and only trust people after a long time. Skills/Powers: - Sneaking and Stealth. As an Assassin, he has to blend into the shadows to kill his targets. Many years of training and experience made him almost undetectable with the use of the latest technology. - Weapon Mastery. As an Assassin, he had trained and used many different types of weapons from High-Tech Rifles to the simplest of knives. He can use them all. Although his preference is still his Retractable Claws. - Standard Magic Mastery. His heritage as a Night One gave him talents in Magic but due to him having no master, he could only use very basic magic such as Minor Healing and the like. He could also use magic that enhances his physical abilities fairly easily, it seems that it was his aptitude. Weaknesses: He is weak in the morning and has to be in the shade thanks to his allergy to the Sun. Background: Cronis was born as a 2nd generation elf in the town of Gora. Orphaned when he was 5, he had to learn to survive all by himself. He had scavenge food and picked pockets for more than 5 years until he picked the pocket of a famous assassin that goes by the name of Shadow Fang. Shadow thought Cronis had talent for being able to steal from him and thus took him in and taught him the ways of assassination. Training him vigorously for 7 years, Shadow thought Cronis was ready and gave him his first job; To kill a mid-class noble. Cronis did his job splendidly and earned himself his first kill. Following that success, Shadow took Cronis along on many jobs and Cronis made a name to himself as the disciple of Shadow Fang. Exactly 10 years later however, Shadow Fang was caught on when he completed his job to assassinate a high-ranking member of S-K. Shadow Fang was caught and killed instantly. Since then, Cronis inherited the Shadow Fang name and had called himself as such. Fast forward 2 years into the future, Cronis had worked under many Corporation as an assassin-for-hire. He is paid good money and is now famed for his skill and high success rates. His current job brought him to Seattle and is now settling in one of the many hideouts he have in Seattle. 6. Kheldar as Traitor: Spoiler:STATS: (4) Body (4) Mind (4) Soul (40) Health Points (40) Energy Points (8) Shock Value (4) Combat Attack (2) Combat Defense (16/26) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: Marcus Anderson Shadowname: Traitor Gender: Male Race: Human-British Age: 19 Looks: A tall guy, Marcus is around 6ft 2 in height. He has a slightly slimmer build than most, though rather than being weedy he is better described as toned. His left arm is, from the elbow down, a cybernetic replacement. High quality and normally concealed under a long sleeved shirt and glove its quite hard to notice. Long, ruffled brown hair that refuses to stay in any specific style no matter how hard he tries to keep it there. While not handsome, he’s not ugly, high cheekbones and gaunt cheeks being his prominent features. Slate grey eyes combined with his usual zoned out expression mean most people see him as distant. He’s bad at smiling, tending to grin and look sadistic instead. When around friends he laughs little but smiles alot. Past times have left him with very faint laughter lines. Dresses smartly but not without due nods to fashion he also has a pocket watch (I'll admit that this is just because I wear one ;D) Personality: Sometimes seen as cold and aloof (Reasonable assumptions considering his background) he is nevertheless a relatively happy outgoing person for the most part. However he tends towards massive mood swings (as teenagers are) and ends up in deep depressions occasionally. Having had little dealings with women as a whole in the past he’s awkward whenever one shows affection towards him. He can talk to them and be quite charming but as soon as the women or girl, for example, so much as lean toward him, he is likely to make some excuse and get some distance between himself and her. Unfortunately he also has a social problem with other races. Having been raised in an exclusively human area he is for the most part scared of other races and has difficulty dealing with them normally. Marcus has a bad habit of judging people at first sight and depending on his assessment of a person will be overly trusting or completely paranoid around them. Skills/Powers: A natural affinity with nearly any weapon, within minutes of obtaining it he’s most likely figured out exactly how to employ it. Little to no really power with magic he has however had to attend some magical based lessons in the past. As such he knows vaguely how to cast some high end spells. He’ll only try it in a desperate situation and to be honest it’s more likely going to make the situation worse considering his incompetent flailing of magical power. Inventive if not a genius he should be able to throw together just about anything as long as you give him time and a rough idea of how it works. Pistons in his bionic replacement allow for a bone crushing grip. Also while fighting without a weapon is something Marcus avoids at all costs he can throw a decent kick after a small amount of training with his families bodyguards though his fist fighting lets him down. Remember though he’s only a human and while not weak he is certainly not strong. He also knows a smattering of Japanese as his family traded with Japan for some simple mechs which they used to improve their own brand of bioarmour. Weaknesses: Easy to get to emotionally. Perhaps because he was sheltered or maybe it’s just something in his personality but various things can either set him off or utterly break him. Things of nature to break him tend to include threats to friends or children and mutilation/mutations which horrify him. He can be set off by either insults that are accurate about himself (e.g spoilt brat knows nothing of our problems, your pathetic with girls you virgin bastard), breaking his stuff (He’s a tad materialistic) and violence of any kind towards a women. Using these things you can quite easily manipulate him and force him into situations he would rather not be in. He has trouble working with people of other races as he is still confused and scared of this new world he’s entered. Also he’s only human and has a slim build so getting a hit on him will severely impact on his ability to fight or even function normally. Compound that with the fact that he will keep on trying to get back up and he’s a risk to himself after being injured. Also he is ignorant of some knowledge that would be common information among locals and as such may find himself easily lost or making a faux pas in conversation that most others would not. This also goes for the Matrix system; his family distrusted such things for the most part allowing their personal techmancers to deal with it on their behalf. However he finds the idea very interesting and has almost instantly started researching it as soon as he arrived in America. Vanity is one last thing that could be taken advantage of. Flattery and drawn pictures of himself can be used to distract him and get the better of him. He even carries around a small drawing of himself done by an old friend of his to this day but he won’t admit it. Background: Born and raised in Anglesey, an island in the northwest of Britain, Marcus is part of Anderson family, a small corporation in their own right. Having produced numerous forms of bio armour (A type of removable cybernetic enhancement.Think of a small mech hardwired into your body allowing for organic style movement and quick responses) and selling them across the world for past 4 centuries the family is made of old and new money alike. Exercising an iron grip on its lands the family got rid of all mutants as they appeared preserving, as they put it, a true society. Marcus was brought up to respect these ideals and fight for them. Put through classes of every kind to ensure he was good enough for the family, Marcus endured a lot as a child even if he did live in the lap of luxury. However as part of the family he was also a target and during one of his combat classes (Anderson’s were expected to protect the families interests by any means necessary) a shadowrunner made her way into the mansion. Attacking from the shadows she managed to slash Marcus’ arm as he fell away from her. Marcus’ instructor a former soldier managed to drive her off but the blade she had been using was poisoned. Seeing no other alternative he cut off part of Marcus’ arm to save him. Marcus and the shadow runner survived that day. The instructor was put to death by the family for his brash actions. Ever since Marcus hated his family but he kept up with his classes, biding bis time so he could change the family peacefully and from within. But during his 18th year he stumbled upon one of the families darker secrets. That night he barred up the family mansion lit it on fire and left. Taking some of his family’s wealth and enough supplies for the journey he started making his way to America to avoid revenge from some of his father’s more influential friends. Marcus has recently arrived in New Seattle and taken residence in a hotel in one of the seedier districts as he has little idea of where to actually go in the city of in his life in general. Free falling through life he’s desperately looking for a hand hold no matter what or who it is. 7. Rise-chan as Victorique: Spoiler:PICTURE: STATS: (7) Body (8) Mind (8) Soul (95/125) Health Points (80/110) Energy Points (19) Shock Value (7/10) Combat Attack (5/8) Combat Defense (30/53) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: Riselotte Alexandre Shadowname: Victorique Gender: Female Race: My apologies but, you're not allowed to know yet. Age: You don't ask a lady's age! Appearance: Riselotte has white and smooth skin and is a "proper" lady. Her shiny blond hair is the perfect combination with her face for her looks. A man would think, "This is too good to be true!" after gazing upon the feminine air that shrouds her. Vermillion-ish purple eyes which are quite rare can be seen when one looks at her face. Surprisingly, the eyes not only add to her beauty and grace, they can also bring in the horror to the minds of those who witnesses her sadistic and darker side after the hidden nature is revealed, which usually contradicts the enchanting smile she puts up around people in order to associate with them to eventually use them for benefits. Personality: When one would first meet Riselotte, or at least meet her the first few times; they'd find themselves graced by an usual aristocrat: well-manners, proper etiquette, eloquence in speeches, and a radiant smile flaunting pure confidence to top it off. Though, one would realize that she almost never apologies for just about anything to mere commoners. She feels that she'd belittle her image too much if done so. She is always polite when getting to know people and strangers, someone close to her would see a more different side of her, though. But getting close to her in itself can prove to be a tedious task. On the inner side, she has a sadistic side to herself. She can be very mean and not even for a moment would she hesitate to use people to have her way; commoners are merely pawns on the chessboard, all she has to do is to use them efficiently in order to achieve victory. She has a superiority complex, and as such, she looks down on everyone excluding certain top-classed people of novelty of whom are mostly elves, none else have won her true respect so far. This has caused her to have a low opinion of the beings on the world. And of course, if the people of the world is practically lower than her, then she has to look good yes? She can't possibly dress up and act like everyone else, that's equal to being a mere mongrel! And hence, she will always cater to her looks, dresses, and keep up utmost elegance anytime, even when none looks up to her. For it is to not show people that she is better, it is to keep it true to herself that she is above the people of the world. Skills/Powers: The capability to manipulate certain elements. Weaknesses: - Hate towards commoners. - Her socializing skills to manipulate people can be broad sometimes, Riselotte tends to end up making bad connections. Basically, she ends up trying to use people who comes back to cause her nothing but unnecessary trouble. - Insults. If it's one thing that can cloud Riselotte's judgement, it's her pride crumbling apart. Background: Riselotte was born long ago. One would say "countless" to describe this. One of the country she enjoyed living in was England, which always exudes the feeling of novelty and grace. Riselotte was born to a family of special beings. More so, her parents were these inhumans beings who masked themselves as humans perfectly under the society while at the same time; they had quite the high status along those of the higher-classed society. In order to properly blend in with the humans, Riselotte was taught proper etiquette, manners, socialization skills, even acting and fighting - this explains her current personality. Fighting as in, fighting with magic, after all Riselotte is a magician. Weapons exactly were not her forte at that time. Riselotte's parents one day disappeared due to reasons that were unknown to her at that time. She waited, waited, and waited, but they never returned. Riselotte tried desperately to find her parents, even going as far as hiring people to find her missing guardians, only to find their corpses laid on a large pond far away from her home. Her parents dying was already a fact hard to swallow, now she had to face the fact that she was no longer living with her family. She was now practically alone on her mansion, along with her maids. Even though she was technically not "alone," her maids never seemed to provide much feeling of presence around her, due to them not being blood-related. And hence, the mansion felt like a desolate place; an empty home. A large, gloomy shelter. Riselotte soon a decided that she should stop mourning in grief and prepare for the worst that haunted her. Her parents died, and it was definitely not an accident, it was a scheme, a plot well-played from behind the curtains, like a puppeteer having his dolls dance at the whim of his will. Whoever killed her parents may come after her one day. Riselotte thus hits the house that her family once constructed years ago, though it was old and locked, she managed to find the key to it at home, on her parents' room. It was well hidden. The house presented Riselotte it's collection of books, many shelves and stacks of old books of magic, all wrapped under dusts and cobwebs. Riselotte was first forced to just go back home and call upon her dutiful maids to clean the place for her. Once cleaned, she finally started reading all the books. Upon reading the books, some of them contained same knowledge, and hence, she went over some facts, stories, strict rules and magics, over and over as she read through them, later having practically inscribed under her brain. After several years, Riselotte was still undone with the books, there were too many of them, and just to review some facts, she re-read some of them from time to time. She spent what felt like months, no years on just reading. Time was uncounted for and her maids started to worry about her so much that they decided to keep an eye on her everyday and deliver lunch, food and other necessities to her when required. Riselotte could hardly care about the anxiety and devotions of her maids. Now that she found something so interesting and... addictive. Riselotte was utterly engrossed. Yes, she grew passion for reading and learning. While it's true that she entered the library with the intention of learning magic in the first place, she ended up reading old novels and stories in there too. She made the ideal objective to read through every single books and see through to it. Time passed and before one would know, it was already 2011, the time of Awakening. This was when Riselotte had the chance to put her vast knowledge to use and practice her spells, she was already done with the old library. She later decided to finally venture out of her home for good; rather than stay on this terribly old mansion, even though it's where lots of memories lied, especially those of family, but this is what she needed to take a long or perhaps an eternal break from. Her maids who had already turned into half-inhuman beings by the aristocrat girl, did lots of researching for her and searched out the best place for her; Seattle. Rather than traveling around the world, which seemed like a tedious task that would be done at the absence of a mansion as a home most of the time, she felt the need to just move to a better and more advanced city. Though by the time she shrugged off her laziness... or better explained; busyness, it was past 2017 when she actually moved to the city. Once moved, Riselotte had a harsh time getting used to the environment, it took years to get accustomed to the shiny place. Riselotte spent lots of time to blend in with the society as someone with a concrete social standing with money. After all, her old location weren't very trendy, she barely had knowledge about the changes of the world as she barely kept record of time until her maids started filling in the details. She used to barely watch the television too, her interest regarding it were piqued after being done with the books from the library. While being the sage of magical knowledge due to the literary contents and informations from the books; she felt outdated, so felt left-behind, and she wanted to get back on the track, associate with people, and get to know things. Riselotte hence started working hard to understand people. She decided to redo her education and in doing so, she learned lots of new things. She tried taking on many types of lessons at once, such as singing lessons, dancing lessons and even martial arts. But martial arts was going a little too far and thus proved to not fit her style. So she made the decision to forgo learning such lethal arts and techniques. But she took her time with learning many things, since she fancied reading, she visited many libraries and borrowed books everyday. She borrowed so many books that she ended up creating a library of her own new at home and thus her passion strived through the new generation, that is, until she realized that most of the novels and stories were boring. Much of these books barely contained the type of text which used to move her heart and spirit so much. Granted, they provided more and more knowledge. Knowledge is indeed power, but without the drive that encourages one to gain it; it's only a matter of time until she stops dealing with it. By the time Riselotte completely adapted to the humans, she lived years too peacefully in Seattle for years until starting to get associated with the corporations as they deemed her to be someone very useful, or so the rumors surrounding her pointed them. They hired her, only because they felt the wish to put her magic to use and see the results. Throughout the years, she went on many "missions," or so her contractors liked to call them; for her gains. And her abilities allowed her to gain respect. Now she held great influence and respect not only in the outside, but also on the inside, with the name Victorique. 8. Bartre as Charon: Spoiler:STATS: (4) Body (5) Mind (5) Soul (45) Health Points (50/70) Energy Points (9) Shock Value (4) Combat Attack (2) Combat Defense (18) Max. Possible Unarmed Damage DESCRIPTION: Name: William Fornier Shadowname: Charon (I decide when you get on this boat to hell buddy. Whats that? No thats not Hades, and no I don't think I'm a major god, maybe a minor one though.) Gender: Male Race: Human SURGE, Changeling Age: 28 Looks: I was one of the lucky ones, SURGE gave a lot of my friends characteristics they wish the didn't have, things that made them impossible to miss: Wings, horns, tails, hell one of them even got an exoskeleton, a damned Corinthian helmet, guys impossible to headbutt but it doesn't really matter when a stab to the thigh puts him down just the same. But I digress, midnight blue hair(natural) cropped short and brown eyes. I've been told that I look a little above average, but I guess that comes from the rest of me. At five foot ten inches, I spend a lot of time crafting myself, making myself as atheletic as possible, I don't run incredibly fast but I can run for a long time, I can't punch a hole through a wall, but I sure as hell can dent it. Yeah it's not really what people look for in body guards, they want that giant hulking build, Harlequin bless evolutionary psychology. In my opinion being big, bulky and mean looking means you just get shot, blasted, evaporated, eviscerated or even melted first which is fine by me, when you inevitably bring in the big muscles I'll probably be the only one left to collect my pay, you can bet I'll be charging extra. Personality: Calm and quiet, Charon excels at hiding his real emotions. He can see both sides of an argument and often moves to create a compromise and is always willing to lend a hand to aquaintences and hear people's problems. Underneath the acquiescing mask lies a wit begging to snark at everything and anything. Despite the nature of the world he is determined to give people the benefit of the doubt, probably just to spite it. Slow to anger and easy to forgive, he has difficulties letting past mistakes go, often spending countless hours agonizing over things that were often out of his control and even more about things that were. He can count on one hand how many people he considers true friends, but he can say with certainty that if those few needed his arm he would give it in an instant. Hates racists, speciests, classists, people with an unjustfied sense on entitlement and morons, not that those people would know. Events have forged him to be emotionally resillient and world saavy.Has an unreasonable fear of Nutella but curiously not peanut butter. Given his specialty as a bodyguard, Charon has learned when to be forceful when needed, but only when necessary, being pushy all the time tends to burn more energy after all. Skills/Powers: Powerful senses, I can smell what someone has had for dinner a day after, see far beyond most humans, hear the quietest mouse. (Thanks SURGE!) I pick up things a bit easier than most do for some reason, don't know why. A mystical adept, I tend to use both schools for different purposes. On the Adept side I do my damned best to make sure I'm harder than hell to take down and fast enough to dance away from whatever can take me down. On the Hermetic side lies all of my flashier options, I'm a firm believer in the best offense is a good defense, thus, I focus more on shield/armor effects and the occasional healing spell. My only directly offensive spells tend to be the most basic of spells, but when all you got is a hammer you either get really good with a hammer or you learn subtle things that make the hammer blow up between you and the other guy, good thing you got that armor huh? Still don't hold a candle to most offensively minded mages, I'm no miracle healer and a pure defensive mage will out barrier me, but I'm talking PURE defensive mage here. So whats a defensively minded body-guard supposed to do when he can't magic someone to death? Well, you could just shoot him. I put some long hours into my marksmanship, I'm not a crack-shot with pistols, but I get by. If that fails you could try to close and take him hand to hand, that shit is painful, but most mages react poorly to you getting in their face. Weaknesses: Perfume, no seriously. One job had me guarding some jumped up whore, it was some easy money, most runners who would take the bounty are chumps. Turns out he almost got his job done when he threw a bottle at me in desperation, stupid of me for not modifying the solid barrier in front of me to stop it but it happened. It broke on my face and I swear I almost died, the smell was just that powerful. I still pushed the bastard out the window but it took all my willpower to not just tear off my nose. I try not to guard whores, only classy courtesans now, the ones with the sense to put perfume somewhere where scruffy bodyguards like me don't knock them down. On that note I don't take super bright light or super loud noises very well, which unfortunately occurs more than it should, stupid flashbangs, making me spend mana on wards. (READ: LUDICROUS SMELLS IN A SHORT PERIOD OR THINGS THAT OVERLOAD SENSES.) I'm no specialist, I can't flay a fool with my mind that well, I can't regrow an arm (maybe a nub, that counts right?), and I can't shield a damned idiot from the combined powers of three combat mages, I dabble in the first two and actively pursue the third but I just don't put as much time others do. In the same vein, my personal enhancments aren't S tier, but I'd be willing to say they're above average. I'm a generalist in most of my fields, you want a sniper that gets flayed magically, you don't hire me, you want a wall making machine that can't defend himself that well when the walls come down, you don't hire me, you want a walking apocalypse with the constitution of paper, you don't hire me, you want a master martial artist who can't fight at long range, you don't hire me. I'll be the first to admit it, I'm not a grizzled veteran, I don't have ALL the experience in the world, but I'm still pretty damn good. Background: SURGE meant a lot of things for different people. For a kid like me, born a mite before Halley's Comet came hurtling through space to visit Earth's general area it meant a drastic change to society, one that barely settled down before fate decided to fuck with us again. My parents were relieved that I only had blue hair and enhanced senses, but my friends weren't as lucky. I couldn't believe it as I grew up, UGE and Goblinization already happened, why were people, yeah thats right PEOPLE, being put down for something out of their control? I was a bully hunter as a kid, I didn't care if you were as ugly as troll, sported a helmet exoskeleton, had talons, giant wings (but man was I jealous of those that did), or were born poor or rich, asian or black, if you hurt people I hurt you, didn't hurt that most people never expected that really quiet asian kid to suddenly go berserk after seemingly befriending you. Word got out and I somehow I found myself leading a gang of kids and teens, we watched for our own, the rest of the world could go fuck itself as long as we weren't bothered. I like protecting people, I liked being that valiant knight that seemed to have vanished from the world, didn't hurt that chicks were attracted to me for being awesome and manly. At least Mia thought so. Me at the head, Garm as my right hand, Aegis as the brains (and the legs, but I'd never say that to her face, or to Garm for that matter), and Mia as our heart, we were best friends. I'd give my arm for those nuts, and they'd give me theirs. I think I liked being this sorta Hero of Justice the most because it meant I was sticking a middle finger to the world that seemed to take sadistic joy in making people's lives as shitty as possible. Still, life wasn't super easy, but we were satisfied with our lot, we had family in the form of our little gang and the few families that didn't hate their kids for being different, food in our bellies, places to sleep and the Matrix. Naturally, it got worse for us as it's wont to do, come 2069, and a pair of earthquakes put down our little town. My family, Garm, Aegis, Mia, and Nexus' families were safe in Florida on a trip we all saved up money for, the rest? Not so lucky. The worse part? the Corporations in the area and the wealthy? They did jack shit, just enough to give the impression they were doing something. I was 19 then, (and with the benefits of hindsight, dumb as a brick)and I hated them more than I hated anything else. I'm not proud to admit that we did stupid shit. Domestic terrorism says hi but at least we only targeted wealthy "humanitarians" we weren't the only ones. You don't go attacking the economic elite without learning some skills from people who hate them just as you do. Still we got luckier than a god damn leprechaun when we tried to take our revenge, but even leprechauns get caught. It cost us Mia, our heart, and more than that. We stopped doing stupid shit and began to gear ourselves for the future but we Never.Stopped. Hating. Not just the corporations, but ourselves and the world. Eventually we moved on but it was hard, especially for me. I will always hate myself for getting her killed but I will live, I promised her. I don't blame her pops for trying to kill me , but I promised. Eventually we made up, but he will never forgive me, just as I will never forgive him for beating her and his wife. I became a Runner with some of the skills I acquired, gradually acquiring more as I attended lessons on damn near everything magical and pistol related while refining what I already learned. Garm and Aegis got hitched and are average citizens, working for Horizon. What the future holds I don't know but I will live until I'm old as shit. I promised. IMPORTANT NPCs: Sandman: [spoil][b]PICTURE: DESCRIPTION: Name: Sandy, Rua, Ginger or simply RED (pun intended) Shadowname: Sandman Gender: definitely female Race: human, more or less Age: 35 Looks: Long thick wavy red hair, poison green eyes, pale skin and freckles make her a true gaelic Rua (irish for "redhead"). Wearing mostly tight clothing, showing off her "qualities", but still trying to keep it simple by sticking either to black, khaki green or army patterns. Personality: Seems generally unpredictable and instable, constantly drinking, smoking and swearing like ... well ... a drinking and smoking sailor. Half of her swears indicate her irish heritage. Seemingly gets off on simple pleasures like steak, pear cider and havanitas. Likes to flirt with everything and everyone, including lascivious and seductive behavior even in her fighting style. Skills/Powers: She's a walking tank and killing machine, stuffed with cyberware. The impact of her fist equals the one of a bullet shot from a heavy pistol in close range. Her favorite weapons are a huge custom made revolver, which is linked to her cyberware and shoots sniper-bullets, which she lovingly calls her "babby" (irish slang for "baby"), and a monofilament wakizashi, which was a gift from one of her former team-members for her 30th birthday. Weaknesses: The amount of cyberware tends to make her psycho-physically instable, up to the point of dozing off in the middle of doing or saying something. Background: Not much is known about her, most of the Shadowtalk actually considers her to be male. She's in business for about 15 years and got her Shadowname due to the fact, that she's "putting people to (eternal) sleep". Sandman is said to be extremely dangerous and most wouldn't want to cross guns with this almost legendary 'runner.[spoil]

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littleRED

12 years ago

In the meantime, just about when Dussack was still in the middle of his little paranoid outburst and before Mistress Leblanc made her grande entrée, the sun went up and started floating the forest around the Council Island Inn in beautiful shades of green and gold.

And although N was sitting in the middle of it, her mind was locked on the mechanical senses of her human shaped drone.

All around N were moving shapes of all kinds. Some were on four legs, some on two. The thing they had in commmon was that they were all very deadly, preparing to take out the intruding element in the forrest: N.

In the presidential suite of the inn, Leblanc (which is basically just the french version for "Johnson") continues as unctuous as before: "Such a décourageant way of thinking, monsieur Dûssé-ac."

She smiles a cold professional smile, as she takes the coffee from the Technomancer: "Merci beaucoup, monsieur ... Rue-de, I believe? Oui, Rue-de." She whispers it sweetly, turning Rudy's name into a pun, suggesting that he was "of the street".

"And yes, monsieur Charon and mademoiselle Victorique, I know you all want to talk about zee business, no? But I have to ask you for a little bit réussite ... uhm ... patience? Since we're still ... uhm ... incomplete."

The shadows in the forest close around N within a heartbeat. The mecha in the suite just twitches a few times and then collapses, slumping onto the floor.

Leblanc, taking a sip from her coffee, continues as if nothing happened: "But the Mademoiselle is already on her way."

Cinia Pacifica Ojou-sama Writer

12 years ago

"So you're waiting for the drone's lass, too I see? Well, it is rude to send a drone in the first place anyway, I understand your reasoning, I believe, Madame," Riselotte commented, making a smile on her face, though surprisingly, it didn't seem like a malicious one.

She wouldn't flash her evil smiles anywhere that easily. Her exterior contains the perfectly modest and nice girl. It's like a part of the norm, in a manner, for her.

Damienthedevil

12 years ago

Cronis smirked a little when he saw the drone powered down. Quite the naive one to think that she'll be safe if she's not here.

Cronis waited silently for the explanation of the job.

ToyManC Forgot my safe word

12 years ago

Uncomfortable being under the eye of the boss, and apparently being teased about his name, Rudy tried to hide his discomfort with a terse nod and a quick retreat.

He felt the rigger's link to the drone falter, and was unsurprised when it crashed to the floor. 'This situation is going to turn me into a paranoid wreck,' he thought to himself.

He considered getting Sandy a replacement, for the cup of coffee the boss took, but decided he was done being the waiter. Instead, he found an empty seat and decided to wait for things to get started. 'Let her fill her own cup, or get hers back from the boss,' he thought, with a small amount of internal satisfaction.

He doubted the rigger was dead, because nobody brings a dead body through a high-class hotel, and drops it in front of the boss, if they want this job to remain secret. For a moment, he considered hacking the drone, but dropped the idea as matter of professional courtesy.

Kheldar

12 years ago

I jump slightly as the masked man goes down. Seemingly I am one of the first to react, moving towards the body now lying on the floor.

Kneeling down beside his slumped body I check for a pulse. Nothing there. Slowly I remove the mask to reveal not a man but a mech. Puzzled I look around. I haven't got much to do and this looks pretty high tech. Wonder if anyone would mind me taking a look? I glance over at Sandman and Leblanc trying to assert whether either of these two authority figures would mind me taking a look. Perhaps I could find out why this mech shut down? Oris this one of these rigger drones I've heard about.

Also does this mean that N is out of the Rp then? I'll only start dismembering his mechanical corpse if he is :P

littleRED

12 years ago

Sandman turns in her seat at the bar, grabbing herself a big coffee cup. She is done filling it half-way, when the drone collapses at the other side of the room.

She sighs deeply, sliding down from the bar-stool, and walking over to Marcus, who was already kneeling beside the bot in the lounge part of the common room.

"No, no, we mustn't touch garbage, kiddo." She whispers to him, before she sits down on one of the armchairs, putting her feet on the coffee table - and regards Leblanc with a look, that could be interpreted as: Fucking french bitch.

//N isn't dead ... just knocked out. Meaning: Still part of the RP.//

Kheldar

12 years ago

I step back from the mech silghtly disappointed. Still it doesn't seem right to just leave the body in the middle of the room. Leaning over it I pick it up, grunting as I do, the mechanical body decpitively heavy. I trudge over to one of the empty chairs dropping it into a sitting position. Glancing once again at the mechanical face I carefully replace the mask and step back.

Theres still a tension in the air, one of the killers I haven't been introduced to previous outburst giving some of us something to think on. Personally I wasn't too worried yet, I sort of trust Sandman and everyone else in this room looks competent, the pretty women in the gown still confuses me somewhat though. Overall this would be too much setup and expense just to screw us over.

I walk back over to the corner of the room, listening in on some of the chatter trying to discern some names or roles. I settle back to listen again. For the moment its just a waiting game it seems.

Flaser OCD Hentai Collector

12 years ago

The intermissions having played out, Dussack leans back against the counter and goes on:

"As the rigger demonstrated, it's not like we really have a choice." - fishing in his coat, he retrieves his cigs and lights one, inhaling deeply and savoring the smoke while the Runners digest his words.

Blowing smoke, he goes on - "Had you been less amenable, you'd have felt the touch of iron, below madam Leblanc's gloves...".

Stepping away from the kitchen, smoke curling around as he walks to the Johnson with deliberate slowness, he addresses his final words directly to the woman.

"I'm sure you'd have preferred to carry on this game of carrot and stick, but since you've already amply demonstrated your grip, I'd rather have it straight."

Seizing her up... with the smoke curling you're not sure... as an opponent? As a girl to pick up? As meat for slaughter? ...he finally lets you see genuine emotion: A wolfish smile. This man might not be the strongest, smartest or sophisticated... blood-lust though, that he has in spades.

"What guarantees can you provide for your promises? What is there to say, we will be alive to collect it, when all is said and all is done?"

"The only thing Runners can offers Johnsons that Corps don't have in their pockets aplenty, is deniability... on a successful run, that is.

Here you are, taking an ever firmer approach, filling our heads with delicious morsels of information... about who you are, who your employers might really be... all ripe for plucking, by interrogators, should we by happenstance or design fall into enemy hands."

littleRED

12 years ago

//Since there was a significant back & forth discussion expected between Flaser's PC and the NPCs, I have decided to request his assistance in writing the post that will follow soon. It’s to move things along a bit more smoothly and because I didn’t want to explode the thread with dialogue posts.

I might require your assistance in a similar fashion in the future - and if you feel a similar situation will come up between your PCs, feel free to contact one another and make a joint post.//

littleRED

12 years ago

The very moment Dussack points out the "firmer approach" the door to the suite opens and two guys come in. Both of them are dressed in black suits, one of them carrying a girl in his arms.

Leblanc nods at them and they move to the lounge area, putting her explicitly carefully and gently down on the couch - and then leave.

"Well, since we are complete, we can finally talk business." Her french accent drops away instantly, revealing how much she pretended until now. She puts down the coffee and focuses her dark cold eyes on Dussack. It's the kind of stare that pierces through one's eyes and digs into the brain, slicing it into tiny little bite-sized pieces.

"The employer is me and I require exclusive privacy. It is not like I forced you to agree to my pre-conditions in the first place, Dussack. Am I correct?" She asks sharply, her stare getting even more intense.

"No, you just demonstrated that you know exactly who I am ... I'm not an errand boy, or some specialist in shady business. I kill people for a living, and last I checked that's still a capital offense, even in common court."

She lets out a cold, short laugh. "Of course I know who you are. I tend to pick the people who work for me carefully."

"Looks like you don't understand where I'm coming from, lady. I prefer being a blind instrument of my employer. Plausible deniability goes both ways. We both know that it's not common court that one really has to look out for ..." He ends his sentence by blowing smoke toward Leblanc, appearing unfazed to onlookers.

She stands up, moving slowly, predatory - Is it just his imagination, or did the temperature in the room just drop by a few degrees? - and positions herself directly in front of him. Her high heels making her tower good 15cm above him, spitting the answer into his face: "I don't give a fuck about common court!”

Warning! Sharp drop in ambient temperature! - blared the AI in his head.
Not now, Saul! - ignoring the discomfort, he went on: "I never said common court was my primary concern. We're dealing with corporate interest after all. So here's the deal raw and uncut: So far my employers might've heard of me. I might've heard of them too. If things go by my spiel, they never know they've dealt with me specifically and I never know who employed me either … which is darned handy, in case your †˜runner gets caught.”

Drawing another lungful of smoke - and some warmth - he continued: “You just threw away all those layers of deniability and protection I've spent years building, for the pleasure of a face to face chat. I could've been recalcitrant and demand anonymity – at least for your sake – but I had a nagging feeling you wouldn't have taken no for an answer."

The lights in the suite flicker and for a moment Dussack’s completely sure that he’s dead meat ... but then the moment passes, and he is somehow still alive.

Leblanc looks suddenly very tired. She sighs deeply and lowers her head, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Unfortunately for your preference, Dussack, this job requires face-to-face with me. Actually, a lot. This job requires in fact, that my 'runners stay as close to me as possible for the duration of the job …”

Dussack pauses for a tiny moment.

"If what you say is true ... if you are the one employing us ... then I'll have to be content taking things in stride.”

That way, you might have just as much to lose, he thinks to himself and turning to the team, he says out loud: "Although I can't believe these bunch of boy & girl scouts would just take all this shit on good faith."

But before anyone of the others can say anything, there is a single answer from the lounge corner. Her voice is dripping with venom and danger. Like Leblanc's stare, this tone communicates without any doubt a very sharp edge being pushed very deeply and very painfully into his guts. Sandman doesn't even turn around to look at him, while stating simply: "This girl scout here does."

"Oh, that's reassuring because?" He looks pointedly at the other solo ... and suddenly a sentence flashes through his mind: Because I know ...

It's like Saul, but different – foreign. With a vacant expression he turns his back on both the solo and Leblanc and walks to the counter, pouring himself a glass of the Professors exquisite drink.

"You know, doctor, maybe we should drink to this after all ...”

“Carpe diem," he murmurs more to himself and downs a big gulp of whiskey, hoping everyone believes it's because of his implants that his hand shakes.

Flaser OCD Hentai Collector

12 years ago

Savoring more of the malt's flavor this time, Dussack retrieves his cigars, offering them to the dryad while he sips the whiskey. A couple of gulps later, having collected his thoughts he remarks:

"That's a rather good application of reverse psychology doctor... though it's wasted in my case." - he nurses the drink some more... yes, this is something exquisite... lighting the Doctor's Havanna with a gas lighter, he goes on.

"Sometimes people really mean what they say. I've said my piece, and said so for my own reasons. What the rest do? That's not my problem."

littleRED

12 years ago

A subtle knock at the main door interrupted the gloomy atmosphere in the room. It was room-service with the breakfast Sandman had ordered earlier.

All sorts of baked goods, muffins and pancakes were arranged in the middle of the dining table and then the servers silently retreated.

Sandman was the first to jump up and grab a croissant, flashing Leblanc her typical smug grin and waving the croissant as a hint that she thinks that Leblanc is as french as that pastry.

"Would you mind telling us finally, Leblanc, what the fuck the job is about, so we can go and get a few hours of sleep?"

Leblanc scooped up an Irish scone in reply and waved right back at Sandman, before biting heartily into it. She chewed and swallowed, before starting to speak: "You are hired to escort me to Lagos, where I need to finish some private business. Normally, I work alone, but … well, it’s not exactly a safe city for a single woman. I also might need assistance in certain affairs once we reach the destination, but that is something I have yet to find out. I also don't know exactly how long I will need to finish my business there."

She clears her throat.

"Since mentioned business is indeed very intimately and privately connected to me, I need to travel undercover. I can't afford anyone to know where I am going nor why. I can assure you that none of your contacts suspects me as the Johnson, nor the employer of course, and I intend on leaving it like that."

She gave Sandman a knowing smile, while biting once more into the scone.

"That's about it. You have 3 days to prepare our leave and everything you need - any expenses you might have will be covered. You are free to use this suite in that period, actually, I insist on. If you live together, you'll soon know each other well enough to work together smoothly."

"Now, does anyone have any questions?"

Bartre

12 years ago

Charon grinned as he smelled the pancakes before grabbing a plate and a nice stack of them with plenty of maple goodness before sitting down at the dining table.

"I don't suppose we can convince you to tell us what you're capable of can we? Anything you might be able to tell us about who or what may or may not be hunting you would be good information as well." He pauses as he bites into a piping hot pancake and makes what can only be described as a happy sound. "Also, are you giving us blank checks to buy gear or is that wishful thinking?"

ToyManC Forgot my safe word

12 years ago

As Charon pours the rich, thick REAL maple syrup, the smell almost makes Rudy swoon, but a question needs to be answered before he can give into the need for food.

Rudy waits to hear LeBlanc's answer to Charon's question before throwing his questions in the ring. "Two questions, for now," he said, somewhat gruffly. "Are we traveling undercover, as well, and are you going to provide the necessary documentation and cover identities, or do we need to get them ourselves?"

It was too much to hope the job would be here in Seattle. Rudy had almost never left the city, and was feeling even more separated from his comfort zone. He had helped to create false ID's in his time, so he wanted to sound like he knew what he was doing.

"Second, are we allowed to leave here, or are we expected to stay cooped up in this room, for three days, and just order the things we need to be brought in?" He desperately feared to leave his friends alone for so long, and doubted they would be welcome in this High-Class Inn. If he left them alone at the complex for too long they'd start foraging on their own, and havoc would descend soon after. Plus, it was getting close to their feeding time. "I have arrangements to make, if I'm going to leave town on an extended mission."

Cinia Pacifica Ojou-sama Writer

12 years ago

"I know that Lagos is not exactly a safe city and all of that, with the rumors and talks surrounding it reinforces that fact up to some extent. But why do you need so many of us runners? I don't know, hiring too many runners and making extravagant reward offers, seems a bit too good to be true. Are you sure that you don't have certain enemies after you? If not then... why'd you feel the need to hire so many runners?" Riselotte asked with her usual smile still.

She then took a plate with a single pancake on it. It seemed delicious.

littleRED

12 years ago

Leblanc finally takes a plate and sits down at the table, putting her scone on the plate. She looks at Charon: "Quite the inapropriate questions, monsieur Charon. Capable? And I am not even sure what you exactly mean by "blank checks", sounds like something from the last century."

Her lips curl up into a cold smile: "I already mentioned that all expenses regarding preparations and necessary gear will be covered. Are you trying to tweak your salary, monsieur?"

Her head turns to the Technomancer: "I didn't hire a team to do everything myself. I don't care what your your preparations before the trip in the next three days consist of, as long as the confidentiality of the job isn't compromised."

//People, no 'runner in their right mind would use their real ID on a run. On top of that, it is already made very clear that this job is strictly confidential and requires a high level of privacy - that means that of course you're ALL traveling undercover. Fake ID's and stealth is something every experienced 'runner should be used to.//

"Which brings us to your second question and the reason, why the team is this size in the first place. You will find out very soon that a stay at our destination, as well as the travel itself, can be extremely dangerous. Our group is in fact tiny, if you take in account the common eventualities on the streets of Lagos." She clears her throat once again.

"As for the duration of our stay on Council Island: Due to recent events, I do believe that my life be in danger - which is the second reason for the absolutely necessity of keeping all this very confidential. This hotel provides great security measures, but I'd still prefer that two of you are with me at all times."

"I think that is all, though there are a few additional things you should probably know, before we leave." Leblanc says, taking out a datachip out of her cleavage and putting it on the table: "I’ve put together a list of inoculations that the World Health Organization recommends for travelers to West Africa. Some of these things aren’t in your normal medkit, so you may need to see a doctor before we leave. There’s some additional information about Lagos on the disk, if you’re not already familiar with the city."

“To get us to Africa, I’ve arranged for a private plane from the island to Cairo, and then on to Accra – the capital of Asante, and the closest real airport to Lagos. It has no pilot, because I am counting on Mademoiselle N’s skills on that matter. That way we don’t have to deal with any airport security or other travel issues. But after that, I’m afraid we’ll be traveling with a bush pilot into Lagos. The plane is very small and has limited room and carrying capacity, so we’re to pack light. That would mean, you can take a single carry-on-sized bag and a backpack or duffle bag each, or so I was told. I’d also seriously recommend everyone here bring a medkit.”

She finishes her scone and stands up: “This would be all. You’ll find certified credsticks in the suite’s safe, which should cover all reasonable expenses. You are free to inform Mademoiselle N about the situation and I highly recommend her to stay within the walls of the inn until we leave, since I don’t remember instructions her to send her little toy instead of showing up in person. I am very sorry that I was forced to undergo such measures to make her join our conversation. She isn’t injured btw, only sedated and should wake up any minute.”

She lets out a deep sigh: “I am leaving you now. My suite is exactly below this one, the suite number is ///. I am expecting two of you within half an hour to start the first guard-shift. The rest should start planning and organizing asap.”

With those words, she simply leaves the suite – leaving the group of †˜runners to themselves.

littleRED

12 years ago

Again the floor plans for the presidential suite you are in:

Spoiler:

And for Leblanc's suite:

Spoiler:

INFORMATION ON LAGOS
Map:

Spoiler:

General:

Spoiler:

Water/Food:

Spoiler:

Magic:

Spoiler:

Matrix:

Spoiler:

Money:

Spoiler:

Flaser OCD Hentai Collector

12 years ago

"Damn. OK, people we're on a tight schedule, so instead playing twenty questions I'll just outline what seems like sensible arrangement to me and you chip in, if I missed something or assumed wrong."

Patching into the suite's tri-dee system, Dussack brings up a scheduling and management software to outline the various tasks and responsibilities.

"We will need weapons, armor, gear... I'll leave that up to Sandy and wonder-boy... err, Traitor here. When you thought no one was looking I've seen you play with that gun as if it was your girlfriend... at least we know you're a certified gun nut."

Three items show up on the itinerary: planning & ordering for today, delivery and maintenance for tomorrow, packing & final check for the day after.

"I'm sure a lot of you are thinking about going mad and finally getting that dream gun you always wanted... don't. At least not until Sandy has picked out our standard gear. Everyone will carry the same longarm to keep our supply & ordnance straight. Ditto for body-armor. Sidearms and fall-back weapons are up to you."

...turning to Sandy he goes on:

"I'd appreciate if you shopped with the fact that it's going to be Africa in mind. If you take my advice, stick with AKs for main arms, AKMs as support weapons maybe an RPGs if you can hunt them down in time. I know they leave a lot to be desired, but these arms have plenty of ammunition and parts for sale on site and we won't get ambushed just because our toys seem flashier then what the local gangsters tote."

More columns pop up on the tri-dee, the next one marked training. Next to it are four more called Intel, Security, Matrix and Magic.

"That leaves training from the weapon related tasks. I'd like everyone to have tried out whatever arms Sandy decides on and maybe some team maneuvers if we can squeeze in the time. I don't expect wonders, but at the end of the course hopefully you'll at least point the business end of your weapon at the bad guys. Does anyone have experience as a weapons or better yet tactics instructor?"

littleRED

12 years ago

The moment Dussack starts up the planning software, Sandman is already grinning like a psychopathic maniac.

"Oh, baby, I love it when you talk dirty." She looks at the man with pure blood-lust, looking like a deadly and very hungry predator, about to be released from the leash. But then she turns a tiny bit more serious: "Alrighty, the walking weapon-encyclopedia and I will take care of the weapons. If anyone needs a certain amount of non-standard ammunition, they should tell me in time."

"BTW we should plan out the babysitting shifts for Madame French Bitch downstairs. Who's gonna take the first shift?"

Kheldar

12 years ago

I have to admit that this Dussack character is quite proficient and is taking the lead brilliantly. Between him and Sandman we should have solid organisation and a strong offensive capability.

“Well as Dussack suggested I'll be busy.” Turning to him I say "I've been taught how to handle quite a few different types of firearms and have been educated in tactics but I've had little to no combat experience so I'm not sure how helpful that will be. I’ll get to working on the firearms with Sandman so is there anything anyone wants particularly for a sidearm or back up? Also although we are probably going to use the same standard rifle I can possibly make some slight modifications so if anyone want sights tweaked and whatever else ask me. Sandman’s probably covered but I’m not sure how well armed the rest of you are.”

That reminds me of one thing. I turn to the good doctor “You’re not going to be able to take an assault rifle of any sort I guess? Well unless you’ve got magic to cover you do you want a submachine gun or a pistol? Both would be preferable but you probably need the space for your potion bag. In essence it will come down to slightly larger and bulkier but higher fire rate or smaller and more manageable but semi auto. I’m sorry but this may also apply to you” I indicate the pretty women who I have not been introduced yet “I’m not sure on your abilities yet so what will you require.”

“Lastly that combat mech that N over there control, what’s his speciality? Will it need a firearm? Because if he does use one we could possibly take a light machine gun, its mechanical strength should allow it to keep it on target quite easily and carrying it round shouldn’t be a problem.”

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