Post by Xenomarch on Sept 19, 2006 16:35:39 GMT -5
GENERAL INFO
==========
Member Name: Shasta
Edition : 3rd
Name : Tom Davis
Street Name : Tiny
Race : Troll (C)
Sex : Male
Age : 20
Class: Bear Shamanist (aspected magician - B)
STATS (A)
-------
Body : 9 (+1 - natural dermal armour)
Quickness :4
Strength : 7
Charisma : 4
Intelligence : 4
Willpower : 6
Essence : 6
Magic : 6
Reaction: 4
Initiative: 4 + 1d6
POOLS
---------
Combat: 7
Spell: 5
Astral Combat: 7
Karma: 1
SKILLS (D)
--------
Sorcery: 6
Unarmed Combat (Subduing combat): 5 (7)
Aura Reading: 4
Intimidation: 3
Negotiation: 4
Sub-machine guns: 3
Etiquette (Street): 4
KNOWLEDGE SKILLS
-------------------------
Runner hang-outs: 2
Gang Identification: 4
Magic: 2
Exotic Drinks: 6
LANGUAGES
---------------
English: 4
English (R/W): 2
City Speak: 4
Trog: 4
SPELLS
---------
Decrease Intelligence (6)
Decrease Cybered Intelligence (6)
Detox (6)
Heal (6)
Treat (6)
Increase Strength (3)
Increase Reflexes +3 (2)
WEAPONS
------------
Name : Ingram Smartgun
Range :
Conceal : 5
Ammo : 32 (c)
Mode : BF/FA
Damage : 7M
Weight : 3
Ranges
Bonuses: Folding shoulder stock (1pt recoil comp), Barrel mounted gas vent (2pt recoil comp)
Accessories: Laser sight (carried separately), 2 Clips standard ammo (1 loaded) - 6 spare rounds, 1 Clip APDS - 8 spare rounds
Equipment
-------------
Secure Long-coat
Healing fetish (Bear tooth pendant)
1 set Fine clothing
2 sets ordinary clothing (wearing one)
CONTACTS
-------------
Owner/manager of the Eager Beaver (for bar work)
Owner/manager of the Lucky Dog (for bar work)
LIFESTYLE
-------------
Low (1 month)
NUYEN(¥)
------------
¥ 1,637
HISTORY
----------
Born to an Amerind father and an Aboriginal Dingo Shaman mother, Tom grew up in a tribal commune on the East Coast of Australia. Despite his growing frustration over his inability to turn his meagre magical talents to the service of Dingo, it was a simple upbringing, with few luxuries, but few wants. As most adolescents will, Tom found this place horribly, horribly boring. Except, that is, when one of the communes eldest Troll members returned from a reasonably lucrative career in international Shadowrunning. Tom used to pester the ancient trog day and night for stories of his exploits, and of the wonders of the Seattle metroplex in particular.
Tom found work in a local pub, as a bouncer and part time bar-tender, scraping together every nuyen he could lay his hands on, and finally, by the age of 19, managed to save up enough to get him to Seattle, and keep him for a week or two. By then, he figured he would have broken into the market as a top-flight shadowrunner and be living the high-life.
Of course, the guy who was supposed to meet him at the airport - you know, the guy with the big bag of fame and fortune, action and excitement - must have been stuck in traffic, coz the slag never showed. Wandering around town, trying to find a hotel both cheap and Trog-sized, Tom ran afoul of his first group of Policlubers.
Some of the good-ole boys from Humanis decided a young trog, unarmed and obviously new to the city, should be easy meat. Tom can still remember them following him, herding him into the dingier parts of the city, getting him isolated so they could set on him. No stranger to a pub brawl, Tom fought back, trying to subdue the half-dozen or so norms as they set to him with baseball bats and flick knives, but there were just too many. After copping a vicious, deep cut across the ribs, Tom can remember no more of the night.
He woke the next morning, on a mattress on the floor of a doss in Redmond, not knowing how he'd gotten there. A little groggy, it took him a moment to notice the slow, rhythmic beat of a drum, and the quiet, deep-voiced chanting coming from an elderly norm sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. No stranger to magic, he marveled at how the ritual of the old skag he'd never seen before seemed so much more *right* then those he'd seen his own mother perform dozens of times.
Finishing his chant, the old man invited Tom to stay for a meal, saying that they had to discuss the events of last night. Discovering that all his cuts and bruises were gone (as well as his remaining nuyen), Tom thanked the man, who called himself White Bear, and agreed.
White Bear, a European Bear Shaman, explained to Tom that he was one of Bear's chosen. That after he had "blacked out" last night, the rage of Bear had come over him, and he had killed one of his assailants with his bare hands before the rest managed to club him into unconsciousness. They had then fled when White Bear arrived on the scene.
Tom was upset that he had killed a man, but had a hard time feeling bad about it. Finally, by coming to North America, his totem had found him, and White Bear offered to train him in the healing ways of Bear.
The next year passed quickly, with Tom finding the spell-songs of Bear much easier to learn then his previous attempts with the howlings of Dingo. Tom got some bar work, both on the door and behind the bar at a few places. He remained unable to call a spirit, however, or to even grasp how the old man managed to find a spirit in this cold, plascrete and steel jungle.
Eventually, White Bear began insisting that he could only teach more to Tom if he accompanied the old man to his wilderness retreat outside of Seattle. Tom, who had now taken the handle "Tiny", on account of his soft-spoken ways, refused to accompany the man, still clinging to his runner dreams of a killer street rep and meganuyen that had drawn him to Seattle in the first place. White Bear finally left without Tom, telling him to come and seek him out in the forests to the northwest should he ever grow up and wish to continue his journey on the path of Bear.
So, nowadays, Tom still gets bar work, is known as a good man both to cause and cure a hangover, and is pushing for more work in some of the local shadow dives, trying to get out from behind the bar and into the shadows.
==========
Member Name: Shasta
Edition : 3rd
Name : Tom Davis
Street Name : Tiny
Race : Troll (C)
Sex : Male
Age : 20
Class: Bear Shamanist (aspected magician - B)
STATS (A)
-------
Body : 9 (+1 - natural dermal armour)
Quickness :4
Strength : 7
Charisma : 4
Intelligence : 4
Willpower : 6
Essence : 6
Magic : 6
Reaction: 4
Initiative: 4 + 1d6
POOLS
---------
Combat: 7
Spell: 5
Astral Combat: 7
Karma: 1
SKILLS (D)
--------
Sorcery: 6
Unarmed Combat (Subduing combat): 5 (7)
Aura Reading: 4
Intimidation: 3
Negotiation: 4
Sub-machine guns: 3
Etiquette (Street): 4
KNOWLEDGE SKILLS
-------------------------
Runner hang-outs: 2
Gang Identification: 4
Magic: 2
Exotic Drinks: 6
LANGUAGES
---------------
English: 4
English (R/W): 2
City Speak: 4
Trog: 4
SPELLS
---------
Decrease Intelligence (6)
Decrease Cybered Intelligence (6)
Detox (6)
Heal (6)
Treat (6)
Increase Strength (3)
Increase Reflexes +3 (2)
WEAPONS
------------
Name : Ingram Smartgun
Range :
Conceal : 5
Ammo : 32 (c)
Mode : BF/FA
Damage : 7M
Weight : 3
Ranges
Bonuses: Folding shoulder stock (1pt recoil comp), Barrel mounted gas vent (2pt recoil comp)
Accessories: Laser sight (carried separately), 2 Clips standard ammo (1 loaded) - 6 spare rounds, 1 Clip APDS - 8 spare rounds
Equipment
-------------
Secure Long-coat
Healing fetish (Bear tooth pendant)
1 set Fine clothing
2 sets ordinary clothing (wearing one)
CONTACTS
-------------
Owner/manager of the Eager Beaver (for bar work)
Owner/manager of the Lucky Dog (for bar work)
LIFESTYLE
-------------
Low (1 month)
NUYEN(¥)
------------
¥ 1,637
HISTORY
----------
Born to an Amerind father and an Aboriginal Dingo Shaman mother, Tom grew up in a tribal commune on the East Coast of Australia. Despite his growing frustration over his inability to turn his meagre magical talents to the service of Dingo, it was a simple upbringing, with few luxuries, but few wants. As most adolescents will, Tom found this place horribly, horribly boring. Except, that is, when one of the communes eldest Troll members returned from a reasonably lucrative career in international Shadowrunning. Tom used to pester the ancient trog day and night for stories of his exploits, and of the wonders of the Seattle metroplex in particular.
Tom found work in a local pub, as a bouncer and part time bar-tender, scraping together every nuyen he could lay his hands on, and finally, by the age of 19, managed to save up enough to get him to Seattle, and keep him for a week or two. By then, he figured he would have broken into the market as a top-flight shadowrunner and be living the high-life.
Of course, the guy who was supposed to meet him at the airport - you know, the guy with the big bag of fame and fortune, action and excitement - must have been stuck in traffic, coz the slag never showed. Wandering around town, trying to find a hotel both cheap and Trog-sized, Tom ran afoul of his first group of Policlubers.
Some of the good-ole boys from Humanis decided a young trog, unarmed and obviously new to the city, should be easy meat. Tom can still remember them following him, herding him into the dingier parts of the city, getting him isolated so they could set on him. No stranger to a pub brawl, Tom fought back, trying to subdue the half-dozen or so norms as they set to him with baseball bats and flick knives, but there were just too many. After copping a vicious, deep cut across the ribs, Tom can remember no more of the night.
He woke the next morning, on a mattress on the floor of a doss in Redmond, not knowing how he'd gotten there. A little groggy, it took him a moment to notice the slow, rhythmic beat of a drum, and the quiet, deep-voiced chanting coming from an elderly norm sitting cross-legged on the floor next to him. No stranger to magic, he marveled at how the ritual of the old skag he'd never seen before seemed so much more *right* then those he'd seen his own mother perform dozens of times.
Finishing his chant, the old man invited Tom to stay for a meal, saying that they had to discuss the events of last night. Discovering that all his cuts and bruises were gone (as well as his remaining nuyen), Tom thanked the man, who called himself White Bear, and agreed.
White Bear, a European Bear Shaman, explained to Tom that he was one of Bear's chosen. That after he had "blacked out" last night, the rage of Bear had come over him, and he had killed one of his assailants with his bare hands before the rest managed to club him into unconsciousness. They had then fled when White Bear arrived on the scene.
Tom was upset that he had killed a man, but had a hard time feeling bad about it. Finally, by coming to North America, his totem had found him, and White Bear offered to train him in the healing ways of Bear.
The next year passed quickly, with Tom finding the spell-songs of Bear much easier to learn then his previous attempts with the howlings of Dingo. Tom got some bar work, both on the door and behind the bar at a few places. He remained unable to call a spirit, however, or to even grasp how the old man managed to find a spirit in this cold, plascrete and steel jungle.
Eventually, White Bear began insisting that he could only teach more to Tom if he accompanied the old man to his wilderness retreat outside of Seattle. Tom, who had now taken the handle "Tiny", on account of his soft-spoken ways, refused to accompany the man, still clinging to his runner dreams of a killer street rep and meganuyen that had drawn him to Seattle in the first place. White Bear finally left without Tom, telling him to come and seek him out in the forests to the northwest should he ever grow up and wish to continue his journey on the path of Bear.
So, nowadays, Tom still gets bar work, is known as a good man both to cause and cure a hangover, and is pushing for more work in some of the local shadow dives, trying to get out from behind the bar and into the shadows.