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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NeoStriker

12 years ago

I keep my face blank as I reply, "Are you sure I just can't die instead? This lady sounds like such a ball-buster..."

Damn. It wasn't just the Injuns catching an intruder, the bitch knew my every move. That's infuriating and humiliating. Stupid floor, why won't you fall down onto the room below. I remember about the helpful lady, "Thank you, Victorique. You're nicer than you act. I'll remember this. I'm off."

In the time I was communicating, I've powered my drone on again. I politely wave goodbye to Victorique before leaving the suite. I head downstairs and I can see the tall, brown-haired Newbster pacing around. My drone and I wave at him, and I flash the words, "How's life? Is she dead yet?"

Kheldar

12 years ago

Chcukling to myself I respond "No not yet,though if she tries that ohh so perfect and haughty act around Sandman again she might soon be. Wonder why they hate each other so much? Anyway how are you? You were out cold last time I saw you, I hope your feeling fine"

Looking back at the pair of them I allow a slightly confused expression to cross my face as I speak. To see them mirror each others actions and N use of the monitor even though shes now face to face with me is slightly odd. Then again I don't think I'll find anyone normal on this team, proabably best just to ignore everyones small pecularties for now. They proably do the same for me, just I don't notice it.

NeoStriker

12 years ago

I shrug my shoulders, and my drone mimics the motion. "Sandelion's gonna snap one day and kill us all. Leblanc's a dirty, skanky, whore-slut bitch. They're probably secret lesbians with massive crushes on each other. In regards to how I am, I'm slightly disoriented from the sedative, angry from the way this mission was pulled together, disgusted from having my body snuck up on and then sedated, and possibly touched inappropriately, embarrassed at having my ruse foiled so easily, and scared for my life from the possibility of having to work with the Sandelion. But you probably can't tell since I don't move my face alot. Don't worry about it. You look like you have some questions, wanna talk?"

Kheldar

12 years ago

Spoiler:

"Sure I guess, babysitting said dirty, skanky, whore-slut bitch isn't exactly the most stimulating activity. So first things first how did you end up on this mission? Seems that everyone apart from me and the Doc, shes the small blue elf, was *invited* along for a lack of a better term. I'm guessing your some sort of prodigy with your rigging?"

She's blunt and doesn't instantly pass me off as the child of the group. I think I'll like her. Then again she doesn't look that old herself.

Just on the end of my question I tag "And don't worry your not the only one, to be honest I barely know which way is up at the moment. I've just decided to do what needs to be done and try and keep everyone in this team alive anyway I can. Hopefully theyll do the same for me." I say it with a smile but underneath I'm a little more depressed, the previous exublation of being caught up in some grand plan having worn off slightly and the realisation that I'm going to be shipped off to Africa with a group I barely know being a rather stark wake up call.

NeoStriker

12 years ago

My eyes widen slightly. "Prodigy? Well, imagine a regular driver times two. That's a four-handed driver. With more vroom-vroom noises. In my head. Or if things get rough."

My monitor display then shows a car going fast, with speed lines drawn behind it. The speed lines get circled out, and an arrow stretches out from it to the words, "These equal fast. More lines equal more fastness."

The image fades out, and then these words appear, "So that's basically how rigging works. The art of drawing more speed lines. But I'm just joking. Please don't try to learn rigging like that. You will get hurt. I learned rigging from a friend. I perfected it through years of self-study and practice. I didn't do anything you couldn't have done, given enough time. As to how I got here, I'm a shadowrunner, known as N. I'm good at rigging. They needed a rigger. I got a message from my fixer, and I accepted. The terms and circumstances seemed shady, so I decided I was willing to sacrifice my drone to find out more before fully committing. It didn't work out. Will work harder, next time."

I adjust my hood a little. "I don't really want to work with these people. What do you think?"

littleRED

12 years ago

"You're not supposed to like them, little girl. Just to tolerate them long enough to get the job done." Leblanc's cold voice cuts through the conversation, interrupting whatever pleasant atmosphere was building up until that moment. She again appeared at the door without anyone noticing, hearing and at least seeing it - only this time dressed just in a bathrobe, that flashes enough skin to let Traitor turn beet-red.

"Don't worry: I will spend the rest of the day in the bedroom, so you won't have any trouble dealing with me." She says, shrugging and flashing them a smile, that lets them freeze in place.

And then she turns away and walks off to the master bedroom.

"Oh, and btw: the dirty, skanky, whore-slut bitch left plenty of snacks and drinks for you two in the kitchen."

Kheldar

12 years ago

Still bright red I turn back to N and cough nervously. Unsettled to say the least I pause trying to regain my composure. Also It appears our employer has sharper ears than I imagined. I should really pay more attention to my surrondings. Still I enjoy N's company, eccentric as she is,and unwilling to let the conversation drop after the interupption I continue.

Well as N seemed to be honest with me I can only return the favour. "Anyway do I want to work with these people? Well I'm afraid I don't have much choice in the matter so my opinon matters not. I got picked up by Sandy after she spotted me trying to sneak into a high class restaurant. I'm new to this city, I had no idea how things worked round here and I still don't. At least with these people I have some guidance and can be a little useful. Whether *I* want to be working to Miss Leblanc? Well to be honest thats a no but... Sandy took this job and she has helped me out quite a lot already. I just can't leave now, that is if I had that choice, I already owe too much."

I pause for a moment glancing around the suite again, gathering my thoughts. "I suppose you've had a slightly different expierence. Whereas this was a oppurtunity for me you've been kidnapped and brought here against your will." I wrestle with myself to stop anger showing in my voice, I was raised as a gentlmen. You do not treat women that way. "I compleletly understand not wanting to work for these people. But do you have any choice this late in the game?" Its a sad smile I direct at her now, this is not a situation someone like her should find herself in. Then again I reflect I barely know who she is. She's a shadowrunner and I'm not, along with her combat mech she can proably handle herself better than me.

I sigh theartically, sitting myeslf down in a nearby armchair. "May I ask how old you are? No offence intended but you look young for shadowrun work. How did you get involved in this line of work so young?"

NeoStriker

12 years ago

...

Where the hell are those cameras? I don't feel like talking anymore. And you got one thing wrong, lady. ...Whatever. I stand at attention and give a full salute to her figure to show my gratitude, before going to get a quick snack from the kitchen. I take out the tea I stashed inside my drone and pour it out for myself to drink. It seems Tracker wants to keep talking though.

...I better watch what I say.

"You owe something to someone in a city like this? And to her? Well, can't say I wish I could be in your shoes."

I take a sip of the oolong tea before continuing, "Kidnapped? You could say I was asking for it. I was caught taking a cookie out of the cookie jar, what can I say. I just need to be better at it next time. Thanks for worrying about me. And you always have a choice. That's why I keep a way to kill myself on me at all times."

I take another sip. "You're not supposed to ask a lady her age, are you? I'll tell you later, if you still want to know. I went into the running business because I had no choice. But I just said there's always a choice, didn't I? It was more like, if I chose anything else, it would've been the same as killing myself. So I had to become a runner. It's a boring story. In the case of other runners, I hear they're usually handpicked as prodigés."

I finish the tea and snack. "That's enough of getting to know each other, isn't it? What should I do to get ready for the trip?"

(I'm using the monitor display to talk, by the way. The drone and I are mute.)

ToyManC Forgot my safe word

12 years ago

As he entered the room, Rudy noticed his name on the watch schedule, for the next shift. He could grab about 4 hours of sleep, before he had to go on duty, so he found a bedroom with four beds, and grabbed the last one for himself. Placing his tazer on the nightstand, he finally pulled Trigger's pistol out of the holster, and looked at it. Ares Predator II, was stamped beneath the barrel. A small note fell out of the holster, and Rudy read it: I suspect this could be a tough job. Maybe this will help keep you safe.

Returning the gun to the holster, he tucked the note in his pocket. With a small thought, he programmed his commlink to wake him in 4 hours. Tossing his jacket across the back of a chair, he lay down atop the bed and let himself drift to sleep. He'd have to figure out what to bring on this journey, while on his watch. Later . . .

Cinia Pacifica Ojou-sama Writer

12 years ago

Riselotte replied with a "You're welcome," as she wandered off to the master bedroom. She thought that she should get some sleep while she could. Rest is necessary for replenishing energy.

Riselotte hands waved on the air, revealing an array of display screens, the miracle... more like, technological abilities of the augmented realities, she was viewing all of this through her lenses, of course.

Riselotte tinkered around it; finding the alert options. Then she sets up an alarm on 4:00 pm, after which she lays her body down slowly.

After about ten minutes, her visions blurred away as she slept.

littleRED

12 years ago

Damienthedevil wrote...

//It's between 9 and 10AM when you go down to the lobby. Bright daylight.//

Flaser OCD Hentai Collector

12 years ago

Since the events within the bathroom exceeded the PG-13 rating roleplaying thread are allowed to take on, that part of the story was posted as a stand alone piece of fiction.

Once done with the shower, it's Dussack who leaves the bathroom first.

"I'll be in the master bedroom if you want company or anything comes up." - he told the redhead solo, as he closed the door. He doubted anyone would be selfish enough to take the double bed only for themselves. He was already allowing his senses to dull in preparation for sleep as opened the door. Not even bothering to change out of the bathrobes, he collapsed onto the bed, like a puppet with its strings cut, a quick ping of the suit's security system confirming secure status before sleep overtakes him.[/color]

//It's up to Rise-chan whether her PC stirs or remains unaware of the intruder. In the later case, she may notice a certain alluring scent waft toward her... from the open lacerations on the hit-man's body.

Damienthedevil

12 years ago

When Cronis reached the lobby, he saw bright sunlight shining outside. Cronis clicked his tongue in annoyance. It's cause those paranoid assholes and that robot chick drag out the time. I'll just have to wait until tonight.

Cronis went back up the elevator and arrived at the suite again. He considered sending Leila a mail but decided otherwise. He walked towards the presidential suite.

As he went into the suite, he saw Sandman walking in a towel heading into the media room and locked herself in.

.......What the hell was that......? Cronis thought that Sandman's face looks a little flush but he just dismissed as it was just a passing thought. He went into the suit seeing a couch, sat down on it and slept until late afternoon.

littleRED

12 years ago

//Another joint post - this time featuring Dr. Carruthers and Sandman://

The dryad stood for a moment, alone with her thoughts. She rehearsed the Clarity ritual, willing certainty to emerge into her consciousness like a bubble rising slowly through a thick liquid. She waited in stillness for resolve to gel.

The visualization exercise threw her dilemma into stark contrast.

She could cling to the ideas, thoughts, perceptions, and perspectives that had driven her for 50 years. Or she could let go of all that, everything that gave her life meaning, on the basis of a short conversation with a stranger who looked familiar. Who knew a lot about her, yes...but couldn't be her.

If she believed the stranger was who he appeared to be, then she had to believe that her assailants had somehow made a copy of him, stored it for five decades, and activated it here in Seattle for the purpose of communicating with her now. That unlikely scenario suffered from too many logical flaws. It couldn't be.

Or they had somehow created a counterfeit Carruthers, at the same time they implanted his consciousness in this elvish body. And they equipped the new Carruthers with some kind of anti-aging mojo. This, too, the dryad believed to be impossible.

So the other time-surfers, those who were working against her at Seattle's great nexus, had sent the duplicate Carruthers in an effort to gain her trust. The duplicate Carruthers was a fake. His argument was bogus. The dryad felt herself relax.

It was past time for a drink.

She let herself into the suite and turned right. She still had the Glenfarclas, of course, but she'd noted a wet bar just past the media room. In a hotel like this, who knew what that bar might contain?

In the meantime, Sandman was just about to wrap a towel around her naked body as Dussack left the bathroom. She just nodded at him, too tired and too lost in her own thoughts to say anything coherent.

She waited for him to close the door and then went to pick up her rubber-wear from the floor and wash it in the bathroom sink. Latex was so damn practical and since they have turned it into breathable fabric, it was heaven to wear. It felt almost like a second skin...

She shook her head. Sometimes her fetishes got a bit out of hand. Sandy sighed deeply, dried off the rubber and proceeded to pick up her Babby and the white Wakizashi that were still lying on the floor. It has been a wild night and an even wilder morning so far. She wondered what was to come.

She left the bathroom - dressed only in the big fluffy towel that barely covered her - and made her way to the media room, where she had left her bags.

Back in the room, she locked the door behind herself and started digging for a fresh change of clothing, as she noticed sounds coming from the wet-bar on the terrace.

She narrowed her eyes and decided to check on it - just to avoid any embarrassing situations a la: someone walking in on her, while she was changing. And yes, she did have some sense of modesty.

She stepped aside and around the corner, and raised an eyebrow when she saw who it was.

"Dr. Carruthers? You are not asleep yet?"

"Ah, Sandman. Such a curious name you have. It raises gender questions that are more than adequately answered by your physical presence. Someday I'll ask you to explain how it was you chose such an androgynous tag as your nom d'malfeasance. But that's a topic for another day. I'm not sleepy, as it happens. I imbibed a few grains of a modest potion that I cooked up for long nights. Care to try it?"

The red-head shook her head and smiled at the little blue creature: "No, thank you, doctor. I think I should grab some natural sleep, while I still can..."

She was about to turn around and walk back into the media room, when something struck her. Her eyes rested for a moment on the dryad, a serious look in them. She wondered how much the Doctor actually knew about her.

"Doctor ... I’m curious about ..."

The dryad smiled. "Yes, it's time we had a little talk. I found a bottle of Glen Garioch here...can you believe it was bottled in 1958? I'm going to have just one shot. I'll pour you one too -- I see that you could use a stiff one right about now. I'll answer your questions, but first you have a decision to make. It's not practical for a woman to parade about half-dressed. You've got to put on some clothes or take off the towel. I'm taking my Scotch to the jacuzzi -- I recommend you toss that towel aside and join me. But if you're worried that the bruises and bitemarks will serve as shocking evidence of your rendezvous with Mr. Dussack, you needn't be concerned. I know all about that. Come along then, into the tub. I need to feel water on my skin.”

Sandman was just standing there for a few seconds, blinking in shock. But ... the Doctor hadn’t been in the suite, when they went to the bathroom. Did she hear them later on? But that could've been anyone. Did she come in, while they were in the shower?

She glared at the little blue pest, the familiar feeling of annoyance around her coming back up. She ignored the dryad's "good advice" about the proper way to dress, grabbed a padded stool and placed herself beside the Jacuzzi.

"So you like spying on people? I hope it got your little panties wet. I hope you got off on it, and got off good, Doc." Her voice already dropped to an angry growl: "How about telling me, how you got to me. Leblanc must have sent you, but how the fuck did that French bitch know where I was in the first place?"

The dryad blinked, nonplused.

"I see that we shall have to start at the beginning. Are you sure you won't join me? The water is warm and when I press this button the jets send pulses through those vents to massage tired muscles." The doctor shrugged off her tunic and climbed, with some difficulty, over the edge of the tub and into the water. She beamed with delight as the water bathed her skin. "You're really missing out, Sandy," she said.

Sandman made a face that communicated clearly how much she didn't give a damn about jets and massaging vents: "Talk. Now."

The elf settled back against the jets as the warm water unkinked the knots in her back. She closed her eyes for a moment and gathered her thoughts. And then she began: "I was as surprised as you were when LeBlanc didn't react to my presence. I thought at first that she just didn't notice me. As you've seen, I am able to sneak under the radar fairly easily. For a while I assumed that you had been in contact with her, and had told her about me before she entered the suite. But we both know that didn't happen. I think now that LeBlanc was expecting me for the same reason I was expecting her. She -- or her bosses -- must have access to some level of prophetic visions."

She took a breath and continued: "I've been contacted by rivals in a long-term project I've been pursuing. They've taken an interest in our project here in Seattle and, apparently, in our team. I'm not sure, but I suspect that LeBlanc's entire purpose in assembling this team is to neutralize me. That sounds a little egocentric, I know. I'm just a little dryad, after all. But you know, this whole Lagos thing sounds fishy. Why would she draft such a large team if she's trying to travel inconspicuously? Why enlist assassins if the job is primarily defensive? What does she need to do in Lagos that she can't accomplish over a Matrix connection? I don't believe a word of it. We're pawns in a larger game. And I suspect LeBlanc is just another pawn."

Sandman just stared at the dryad, her mouth hanging open in disbelief. She started shaking her head and waving off: "Wait, wait, wait ... surprised that Leblanc didn't react to your presence? But she hired you, didn't she?"

"She never hired me. I insinuated myself onto the team. The curious thing is that she has accepted my presence so calmly. Under ordinary circumstances, my presence would raise huge alarms. But she's been completely calm. So I'm sure she was expecting me. The really interesting thing is that she seems to have been expecting Traitor too. I planned my membership on the team and I negotiated it carefully. But the kid was a random, last-minute addition. LeBlanc's lack of reaction proves that she isn't who she says she is, as far as I'm concerned."

Sandman leaned forward and lowered her voice: "So if Leblanc didn't hire you, it is indeed a curious thing why she didn't react. And yes, she didn't react to kiddo either. But how do YOU know that kiddo wasn't part of the team? How did you know about the job in the first place? And most important how THE FUCK did you know where to find me???"

"Isn't it obvious, my dear? I am -- to a limited and sadly diminishing degree -- capable of knowing events before they happen. Among the modest gifts I gained when transformed into this blue form (oh dear, I haven't told you about that, have I?) was the gift of prophecy. I don't see every moment in advance, but I experience key moments. Usually in dreams, though the visions sometimes come when I am awake. I have dreamed about this odd team of misfits for years. During that time I was doing everything I could to eliminate the necessity for my joining this crew. Believe me, I don't want to be here. It's going to get very ugly, and there's a better than even chance I won't survive."

Sandman laughed out loud: "You have been dreaming about this for years, but you have no clue about Leblanc?"

"LeBlanc has thrown unpredictability into the situation. I knew about her, of course. But since she arrived -- well, since the night we met at the restaurant -- little details have been accumulating, small deviations from the time-stream that had been revealed to me. LeBlanc is in darkness. When I look into the future, I see the effects of her actions, but I can't see her. That's why I think she's another adept."

"Well, Leblanc IS a mage. A very powerful one and she is very good at hiding it, but as far as I know about her talents, precognition is not among them. If she knows something, then someone must have told her." Sandman growled slightly: "I knew she was up to something, when the offer came in. It's not her style to hire this kind of crowd ..."

"It's not only not her style, it's simply the wrong set of people for the job she's described. We're being set up. And if you'll excuse the egocentricity, I think it's all about me." The dryad leaned forward. "I know all of this is a lot to accept. But I need to tell you my biggest secret."

The Irish woman just waved at the elf, motioning for her to go on. The dryad deliberately refilled her Scotch glass. Then she took a long pull on the amber liquid – and told Sandman everything.

"So we're here to save the world," was Sandman’s calm response. She reached for the scotch and took a long sip directly out of the bottle. "I wish sometimes, I could get drunk. Now would be a nice opportunity."

The elf stared for a moment. This woman was wholly uncivilized, a barbarian. Hard to believe they would wind up as lovers and more. But fate's funny that way. "Hand me my bag," she said. "You want the alcohol to work, I can make it happen. It barely takes a potion -- it's just chemistry, really. You want me to?"

The red-haired woman shook her head slowly and got up, walking towards the terrace entrance of the master bed-room. "No, doc, if I am to help you save the world, I need some sleep first - and I believe that there's a free spot in the bed over here." Her hand was already reaching for the slide-door.

"Wait a minute," the dryad said. "You don't want to go in there."

Sandman narrowed her eyes, but stopped in mid-step nonetheless. "Why? I already saw him naked."

"Your boyfriend's in there with Victorique. You probably don't want to interrupt them. Unless you’re, um...into that kind of thing."

The solo stared at the glass door for a very long time, her face unmoved. She let out a small laugh and turned back to the elf.

"Let's down the 200-year-old scotch, Doctor, shall we?" She asked, with a forced grin on her face ... and dropped the towel...

littleRED

12 years ago

//AT THE POINT OF THIS POST IT's 4:30 PM.

@NeoStriker + Kheldar: You're shift is ending in 30 minutes.
@Damienthedevil + Rise-Chan: You're next. Shift is starting at 5PM and lasting for 8 hours. You're next, because ShadowFang is useless outside during daytime.

@Bartre + ToyManC: Your shift will start after them, at 1AM.

@Rise-Chan and Flaser: Victorique was already asleep when Dussack crawled into the bed. So you two didn't notice each other, until at least 4PM ... whoever posts first, gets the bonus of noticing the other character on waking up first.

@Wordmangler: You're going to wake up with a certain precog ... gonna PM it to you.

The rest of you is free to wake up however they want. :)//

Cinia Pacifica Ojou-sama Writer

12 years ago

Victorique was sound asleep and didn't noticed the man barging into the room and sleeping on the bed just like that. When the alarm turn on with vibrations from her gloves which were kept below her soft and luxurious pillow; Riselotte only mumbled a bit, then returned to a short slumber.

After about thirty minutes, she opened her eyes. When she lazily took a look at the watch up on the wall, she abruptly rose her body up to see it properly; it really was past thirty minutes from the appointed time. She overslept.

Riselotte is usually able to get up whenever she wants through the alarm. But she couldn't this time, a silly mistake. And then suddenly... she realized a strange smell filled the air. "W-Wha?!?!?!" was Riselotte's first reaction.

To her surprise, Dussack, a man, was beside her. Her face flushed at the sight, she has never slepth with a man before. She almost skipped a beat. Riselotte jumped out of the bed. Catching her breath, putting her hands on her chest. Trying to calm down. She took a deep breathe.

"W-What is he doing here?! Does he even have manners, to just barge into a bed when a lady is already sleeping there?! How lecherous... " she couldn't bring herself to yell or wake him up, it'd screech distress to a teammate and worse; expose a sense of unprofessional aura.

Riselotte simply sighed as she left the room with her commlink items and belongings.

Kheldar

12 years ago

I stand giving a mock bow though in my weariness I almost end up falling forwards. Recovering, barely, I deliver my apology in the most pompous manner I can "I am teeribly sorry milady, I'm afraid my manners have failed me. I offer my humblest apologies. I will ensure not to bother you further about your age." Now that I was standing up I take the chance to wander over to the kitchen and grab a caffine based soft drink to help me get through the last half hour of the shift.

Entering the room where me and N had been relaxing, I mean keeping watch, I slip back into a more casual tone and continue talking "Choice. Now that would be nice. It would seem that I'm bound up in too many invisble rules on how to act for me to have too much choice in this matter. A bit macabre don't you think though to always carry around a way to kill yourself? It's just a bit to pessimistic for my liking." Saying that however I store away a reminder in my head to ask Sandman whether a cynadie pill in case of capture was a good idea or not. Death might not be my first choice but I would certainley choose it before some of the other options I might be offered in the future.

"Anyway like you said that's proabably enough of the small talk, as disappointing as it may be" I look N and her drone up and down cooly, like assessing a piece of meat before purchase. "I need to know a bit more on what your drone can do. Do you use it to fight at close quarters or ranged combat? I'll also need to know your personal training in combat. Hopefully we can trust everyone on the team to look after one another but everyone needs at least some protection if they get caught on their own. You should be realtively safe as you'll be using your drone for the most part but as Dussack said defending you might be a problem and in some situations you may find yourself in the battlefield along with the rest of us. As such you'll also be getting some additional tutoring from someone who knows how to handle weapons. So that will be me, Dussack one of the others I havent been introduced to or Sandy if she can be bothered." I pause taking a swig out the drink I grabbed.

"Me and Sandy will handle ordering whatever supplies you should need. At the moment we will be getting you something along the lines of a Heckler and Cock MP5K, its a small sub machine gun, simple and reliable but still well made and powerful. You'll be getting a Beretta handgun along with that and a trench knife if I can get my way. You'll also get some body armour but I still need to find out whats availible. For your drone? I'm not too sure I'll need more information first ok? Ohh and one last thing well be wanting to attract as little attention as possible so that mask may be a tad inconcspicous so perhaps you could use a balaclava or bandanna when were out and about?" That also brings to mind another idea, perhaps we should get our hands on the uniform of one of the warbands of the city. We may stand out a little less then but we could face opposition from the enemies of said group. Well thats a problem for another time. First I'll get N what she needs. "Aside from that is there anything else you'll need in terms of arms or equipment?"

Damienthedevil

12 years ago

Cronis was enjoying the Trideo when he saw Victorique coming out of the room. He thought that she looked a little flustered but he didn't care much of the fact and just dismissed it.

Cronis just went back to his show and enjoyed the hot coffee.

NeoStriker

12 years ago

Ah. Why did I say something like that? I'm such a depressing girl, aren't I?

I want to see your smile...

I brush away a strand of hair and put on a small smile. The words on my monitor show, "I don't bring the drone along on long-range missions. The mask was just a toy. Thanks for the information, that's all I needed to know. Our shift seems to be ending soon, right? Wanna go hang out afterwards?"

Bartre

12 years ago

Ya know, enhanced senses are sweet occasionally, but oftentimes they just make situations fairly awkward or really painful, yes flashbangs I'm looking at your wretched kind.

Well, that's certainly one way to relieve stress, just about the oldest way actually, normally that wouldn't have been enough to keep me from my sleep but insomnia strikes again. I concede this bout to the non-sleeping faction. A mental thought later and good'ol commlink informs me that it's 4:10 PM. Traitor and Mute are due pretty soon.

I stretch to work out all the kinks and stand, straightening my Kelmar longcoat as I do. Not the most comfortable sleepwear, but it's all right. Lets see, if I was Traitor and N what would I want after my first watch of a HVT?

Food. Either that or sleep. One room service call set fifty minutes later and I'm at a loss. What to do? No one else is awake, at least that I can sense, how do I pass 50 minutes? Aha. I know, no wait, there's no way they'd appreciate me waking them via piano or by running hot water for a nice long soak. Smurfette's probably in the jacuzzi so that rules that out...hmmm.

No wait, this time I got it. It's 4:13.

I make my merry means of entry to the room known as the media room, nodding to the Guy Talking to Captain Irish and gently shut the door behind me. Time to play some Final Fantasy XXXVII, I'm only 200 hours in! Stupid minigames, taking away from the actual game, I'm going to get past the prologue one day! At least after I contact the family, voice only.

"Hello?"

"Hey kiddo."

"Uncle William! Mom's sleeping and Dad's still at work!" was the adorably cheerful reply as little Lux recognizes her most favorite-est uncle ever. Protagonist's got nothing on me!

"Naw that's ok, I just want to talk the best-est niece in the world, Uncle just came back from an awesome trip!"

"Really?! Where'd you go? Was there a dragon?"

"Oh yes, plenty of dragon to go around, but it was OK, your uncle William joined forces with the League of Chummers to bring down the evil-doer!"

"Wow! Where was this dragon? How big was it?" A torrent I chuckled to myself, words come outta this kid like a torrent. "Ah! You're not hurt are you?" A pause, and I can imagine her sneakily looking around before continuing. "Mom'll be furious if you are!"

"No, I'm fine so far, just a little lonely without you guys. The dragon was huge! Twice the size of a normal dragon! It was a cunning thing too! We had to track it all the way to the legendary lands of Egypt! It was super hot! But a hero has no choice but to endure right? I'll be back in a little while and then we can go visit uncle Protagonist, and I'll have plenty of gifts for you, OK?"

"Booo~" She pouted. "Fine, but you have to come back as soon as possible!"

" I promise! You know the world's best-est uncle would never break a promise right?"

"Um!"

Now that the nitty-gritty stuff is done, I can actually listen to my niece.
"Atta girl, so how was school?"

"It was terrible! Some boy tried to push me down"

There's a brief pause

"Uncle? Please don't scare away my classmates this time."

"Now what makes you think I'd do that?"

"Because you over-react all the time!"

Must get the sensible parts from her Da. This bairn's got her mom's brains and her da's common sense, lucky kid. If I had half her Da's sense I would have been a piano teacher to the elite, something about naturally acquiring a skill makes the skill all the more prestigious, exactly what exec's want their kids to be.

"Uncle's just worried!" I say with a manly wail. "Who dares to hurt my little Lux?! I'll go to your school and scare them away!"

"Sheesh! Stop being so..."

We continue on for a good 10 minutes before we stop, X's and O's shared all around.

There's no way she doesn't know I'm a runner, just like there's no way she doesn't know these calls have a code in them for Garm and Aegis.

I'm fine, going on a run, pay's twice the norm, it's somewhere in Africa, it'll take awhile and it's a group effort.

Sure it's not the most complicated system, but that's why I send Garm more obviously secretive messages later that will lead anyone on a goose chase to some undisclosed part of the world later. Why focus on the too obvious when the less obvious is probably the real deal?

It's now...a little before 4:30. I guess I'll go fetch myself a glass of water. As I walk out I see Gothic Lolita come out of the master bedroom(Well, smell is more like it, that perfume!), looking slightly flustered.

"Have a nice time?" I ask while walking towards the modest(relatively, that's real marble on the counter!) kitchen.

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