|
Post by Braddoc on May 21, 2014 9:13:17 GMT -5
New site? That's news to me
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Feb 11, 2014 21:25:05 GMT -5
Hey Shadowtank. It's been a while.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Dec 27, 2013 0:36:14 GMT -5
Unfortunately not much no; I did a few posts a few months back as I had free time, will surely do it again during my next downtime..but feel free to read up, add your own bit, or start something else in a thread.
And Welcome to the boards.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 18, 2013 14:40:23 GMT -5
"..my property." I didn’t even bothered to stop my work, merely glancing his way, just to strengthen my point. The old man let loose a fast, fading smile before settling his left foot on the partial cord. “Now now Mister Four-Eyes, or would you prefer Delacroix- I have not travelled here bearing any grudges from our previous encounter. I found it saddening that bad blood still runs between us.” He takes off his hat, fanning it to fight off the heat, despite having no sweat running down. Part of the character I suppose. “Yeah well, what can I say, I got a good memory, sorta happens when you get shoved into a vampire nest without any form of warning. If you come to apologize, I accept your excuses. You can buzz now.”
“I am not here for that, but while we are on the subject, do know that Louis will no longer be in any leadership position.” I wondered if that means he’s down to a grunt or if he was killed. “The reason for my visit today is purely professional. You see, we have learned that you have been quite active in the field of, shall we say, the paranormal. Parazoological animals, magical entities, parahumanity, this sort of things. A rather curious field of expertise if I may say so, but it has brought you considerable financial gain have it not?” “Your point being?”
“As you may well know, a portion of the Seattle metroplex has been under, shall we say, forced occupation by a large proportion of parahumans; zombies, ghouls, all under the authority of a vampire, vampire with a sustainable bounty on its head, if I may say so. LoneStar has stopped patrolling the area, citizens moved away with haste and what they can carry, quite a terrible affair this is.” “I know all of this already Colonel, if you want me to collect that bounty on your behalf, forget it, I’m not interested.”
“Ha ha, no m’boy. You see, The Org has, or had, a safehouse within this zone, one that was used to store rather sensitive information. Information quite secure into a vault yes, but still on site and outside of our reach. We would require of you to go in, secure our property and bring it back to us.”
“Wait wait wait..So you’re telling me that you people ran when the sector was being taken over, left sensitive what, documents, chips, whatever, there and you spend maybe a year tracking me down just to get’em back so I can do it out of the kindness of my heart? Even a blind man can see this is bulldrek. I won’t mingle with another one of your mission. Get a better story next time, now leave and don’t bother me again.” I waved him off and began picking up the wood, when the Colonel put his cane on a log with his pissed off look on his face, the same he had on our return from Romania.
“Do not think yourself so valuable to us. You are not. Illiya, which you know quite well I am certain, referred you to us after four, and I did say FOUR of your own teams were lost trying to reach the safehouse. The original custodians were, as were two teams, overtaken by the undead. One ended butchered in the sewers by ghouls trying to circumvent the zombies in the streets. Another fell victims to the ever growing amount of cutthroat bounty hunters who now plague the area, making a living off of killing those despicable beasts. Furthermore, we would allow you to join The Org were you to succeed, alongside a rather substantial pay for your services.”
I still wasn’t interested in being his lapdog again, but before I can say that, almost like he sensed it, he voiced the ever-interesting last tidbit “And information concerning the person who pushed you into this little exile with a rather diminutive price on your head, but a price there is. Hardly a task you would do ‘out of the kindness of your heart’ wouldn’t you say Mister Delacroix?”
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 7, 2013 17:49:36 GMT -5
Get in some old castle somewhere in Romania, get some package and back to Seattle. We were under the clock too, 72 hours to pull the job and the doors to The Org would be open to us. We should have asked more questions. We went in with what we were carrying. That’s when I, we, should have bailed, but we were promised ammo, guns and armour at a local safehouse, not to mention the Org membership, so we went with it. Boring trip followed by a bumpy landing in some unknown, barren field right before dawn, then we get shoved into a small van and ends up in a farmhouse right outside some unknown poor-as-frag village.
First thing we do, we check the gear; The guns were rusted, the ammo was all Warsaw Pact; incompatible with the guns we were carrying. I think Evans had the most ammo, 45 rounds for his fancy silver-plated Predator. Don’t get me started on that armour. Most of them were well used, still had the holes and dried blood of the previous owner. The only one decent enough was troll sized. Things were looking grim until Louis’ idea for legwork was to sneak in with a local tour bus making runs for tourists, then dodge that and recon a cave system that supposedly connected to the castle. ‘Course, for that, we had to leave anything that’ll make us stand out; long coats, armoured jackets, heavy pistols, as to not bring attention to us. Can’t say I was pleased by that. Evans shared my concerns, just with more swearin’. The Ork and the Mage were ok, what with them wearing little to no armour and packing light pistols to begin with. We went along anyways we were already here. The Dwarf stayed back, working on the castle’s security; turns out the place was rigged tight. So with only my back-up Taurus and my vest, I went.
At the caven, since Louis was cybered up, he had night vision. We had two Zippos, and since our brave soldier was evaluating us, he closed the march rather than opening it. Forget about using my pocket flare gun for momentary lighting as that will “bring attention to us”. We advanced slowly as hell, crossed a cold as drek underground river without being taken by the current, only to end up, and here’s the fun part, into a nest of humanoid Vampire bat. The Philipino got half his head removed; his adept powers kicked in to put him in some sort of coma, good for him. The Mage managed to drag him away. Louis, as it turns out, had shotguns in his cyberarms and started popping ‘em left and right. I was with Evans in the middle, when one of those things dropped from on high right on the keeb. He was gettin’ sliced bad until I fired off a few shots right in the monster’s head. I dragged him out of there, with the usual panache I reserve for Elves I just happen to save. By the time we reached the river, I learned two things: 1-The Mage didn’t even know a single healing or combat spell, and 2-A flare was useful to blind those things and distract them for a moment.
Everyone crossed the river with me closing the march, since I wasn’t bleeding everywhere; One vamp-thing dropped in my face super fast but I dodged his claws and blow his head off with a hollow point, muzzle to the forehead. Back at the farmhouse, I ended up playing the nurse since the Ork, quite the competent medic I’ve been told, was busy not dying. I can’t say I helped much, but I stopped the bleeding. Louis finally informed us we were located in Transylvania, Romania. As in Dracula's hometurf. Vampires and drek. We weren’t happy about that. And we all agree, short of doing the effective “point blank hollow point shot to the head” on all of them, it ain’t gonna work out. We needed Silver rounds.
With everyone having to stay at the farmhouse, Louis and me left to find a bullet smith who lived a couple of hours away. He agreed to help, but he was short of silver. So again, bright Louis decided that we (read, I) should break into churches to steal silver chalices and other relics. I wasn’t too keen on that, but it’s not like it was for personal gain, The holiness should help against the vamps and they were Orthodox; it didn’t make it better, but at least they weren’t Catholic. I did three break-ins with Louis keeping watch outside until I came face to face with a werewolf of all things, busy eating the local Padre. I didn’t bother to stick around and I ran. We had a respectable amount of silver items by then, and I was done doing all the work and taking all the risks; I know it was my job and all, but keep in mind that was BEFORE I started to get deep with the Fortean Times, Meg, reading about paranormal creatures and having Micro quicken his spells on me. Just meat and skills.
Pure luck happened in the cave, anyone of those freaks could have ripped me in half in an instant. We dropped the goods and came back to the safehouse to wait it off. It took two, maybe three hours before the Dwarf started convulsing from whatever was happening in the ‘trix and had his brains fired in his cranium. Last straw. I was too slow, the mage was dead weight, the Ork was in a coma, Evans wasn’t in any condition to fight, the decker was dead and none of us trusted Louis at that point. Extraction was as shady as the arrival. The Colonel wasn’t too pleased, we didn’t care, but he was with a dozen heavily armed and armoured guards, so we kept our guns holstered and we all left our separate way without bothering looking back. They contacted me a few times after that, but I didn’t even bother picking up or responding. And now, here was the Colonel again, 4 feet away from me. All that trouble for me means that he wants to see my die or he needs something done that only I can somehow do. Or both, suicide missions seems to be The Org’s M.O. for potential members.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 6, 2013 21:01:24 GMT -5
It started simply enough; a bunch of French runners decided to expand into the more profitable mercenary world (thanks to the Russians starting the first Eurowar) by creating “l’Organisation des Runners Globe-trotteurs” or the globetrotting runner organisation for those lacking competence in Voltaire’s tongue. The outfit worked well across France, Germany, Eastern Europe and part of North Africa, mixing the professionalism and talents of a merc outfit with the flexibility, deniability and disposability of shadowrunners. They were an-ever expanding team until the earthquakes of 2043 that saw their main hub, Marseilles (aka Dragonville), reduced to a nice pile of rubble.
They saw it as good occasion to expand beyond continental Europe, ‘opening’ branches and recruiting in the UK, Middle East and Asia in the 40s. That’s when they cut the crap and went with the simple moniker of O.R.G., later changed to The Org as they reorganised into a more “official” worldwide organisation. Hitting America in the 50s, they arrived and expanded with full force; safe houses, resources, mages, contacts, gunners, riggers, lawyers, techies, deckers, papers, doctors, credentials, facemen , vehicles, the works really. In most, if not all, major cities in North America by the end of the decade had an Org office. Sounds almost like a corp just that it is full of runners rather than suits and there’s no nice glass tower Downtown in Anytown, UCAS with “The Org” written on it. Say Four-Eyes, I hear you asking, if the Org is all that and a bag of soychips, why did we never heard about them until now? Well to that I answer shut up, I ain’t done.
See, the Org, while being an oversized runner team, still operates like a merc outfit that thinks, and knows, they’re the best. To stay the best you need the best and just putting up some hiring signs across town or a few messages in some Matrix board will either bring every back stabbing selfish scum from out of the gutter and/or any youngblood that doesn’t know any better and just want to prove how hotdrek they are at any cost. Putting either in touch with what the Org has in terms of connection and resources equals clusterfrag, damaging rep and relations so fast heads will spin. “Don’t call us, we’ll call you and let you know we exist” approach was the word.
I got the call right after we took care of the spirit of Jack the Ripper slicing Dom’s girls down at the Eager Beaver. Never heard of that one? Yeah that got silenced pretty quick, since the British government and the Lord Protector’s office were involved. It seems they were quite satisfied with my shooting and “potential”, so they set-up a meet at the Docks. Me, some Dwarf decker, a Philipino Ork, and a pair of Elves, one mage who could only manage to make fake IDs (I never saw a more incompetent mage in my life) and that dandelion frag cokehead mick Evans. Now contrary to what you think, I’m not being mean or even racist; Evans actually made a point of honour to be called a mick rather than an Elf as he hated how O’Connor double-crossed everyone and turned his beautiful Ireland into Tir na nOg. ‘Pretty sure he’s Knight of the Red Branch too. I can only support his decision, being all open to inter-racial hate and all in that case. He also was the most level headed of the bunch, 'mostly why I bothered remembering his name. The southern gentleman known as The Colonel had a little test run to put us under, sadly, we were to be under the “leadership” and supervision of Louis, cybered-up ex-Desert War vet with no idea on how to do properly things.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 4, 2013 20:08:52 GMT -5
It hit my nostrils about 3 hours ago, a mix of city smog, tobacco and that spicy Thai flavoured soy noodles they got one every street corner back in Seattle. Sorta surprised I could pick up the smells so precisely from a couple of klicks away. Not to mention managing to differentiate three separate odours. I should have stopped smoking years ago. Or not started. Whatever.
The thing is, goofball's been hiding right on the edge of the forest for the last hour, real close, like a couple of hundred meters away staying outta sight, but having a nice, clear view from him over there to me on my property. My money’s on sniper. It’s always a sniper. They like to do the whole sneak up and hide routine then brag about how good and brave they are. My grandma got more guts than them, and she’s been dead for decades now I think. It’s not like I know her or anything.
He can see I’m working on a cord, loaded shoulder rig’s on the logs, I might only have an armoured shirt for protection...might. So what’s he waiting for? It’s not like there’s witnesses or anything, maybe a truck or a rig every 30 or 60 minutes and even then they’re buzzing down the dirt road. So I’m thinking, ok, gunner there’s only keeping an eye on me, learning my routine before striking at the worst possible moment. Or he’s just the scout of a large group bent on killing me for yet unknown reasons. Snipers just love to arrive early and set up like shooting an unsuspecting target from a distance requires some sort of big preparation.
I could be wrong and he’s just some gumshoe hired to track me down, and he’s just waiting to see if I really sleep in that cabin or I’m just here to chop wood. I should just walk over there and get it over with, but let’s not push our luck here. He doesn’t know that I know yet. I’ll just act like nothing’s weird, just go in to take a piss, then put on my jacket and take my AR, keep my house between me and the visitor so he doesn’t know where I am, then flank him all nice and silent. Worse case AV ammo will pass right through those trees, so he won’t run far. Except if he’s got a bigger gun than a scoped rifle, then I’ll be in trouble.
Then it pulled my way. BMW Exeter 960 C-class, more compact that the standard model for those who like to flash just in a more conservative way. White coloured. CAS license plates. A perfect match for the classically dressed Ork driver, but he’s just another tool of the real owner. Short and burly, old but looking able, brand new looking boater hat, perfectly ironed white suit with black string tie, polished black walking cane. He’s a hand fan and a cotton plantation away from being an image from the past. This explains the lingering tourist.
The Ork stays with the car, trying to wipe the dirt from it. The old man advanced like he owned the place, his cane obviously just an accessory than a real walking aid. “I do say, Mister Four-Eyes..” still got the fancy southern accent as well. "...I can rightly say that when it comes to disappearing you are quite the astute character.”
Just what I needed. The Org.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 2, 2013 20:32:55 GMT -5
First Brown, then Linnia, and while looking into her murder, the Shivs get wiped out to almost a chromed-up man in what was classified as a gas leak. Switches wasn’t too happy being the new gang leader and sole member, with reason. The problem is it was happening too close to soon, too fast for my tastes. He went up into Snohomish to live with an uncle or cousin or something. I got my face splattered ‘round town for a couple of attempted murders, specifically my own drug pushers and Mr. Brown, government employee. ‘Rather turned off by the little cash reward offered. My gun running business then suffered a surprise raid by Lone Star thanks to an anonymous tip. “Fortunately”, I was behind bars since it seems that walking with a machete and some fuel into a hospital is considered a crime now. “Sorry for hurting some old hag’s feelings officer, but see here, the Barrens are not Downtown or Bellevue, got to be careful” was not accepted. Hey, at least the results were negative, that’s something...
Meg pushed the bail money upfront and managed to have the charges dropped, at least my fake ID managed to work solid with the Star’s database. Too bad my real name’s now connected to a few serious crimes (or only one, the pushers weren’t even SINners), but it’s not like it was going anywhere anyways. However, I couldn’t stick around much. Whatever what happening was coming for her little corp school (or school corp) and I wasn’t going to be responsible for the loss of something I help build in good part. So I had to move out of town, disappear for a while. Made a few calls, packed my stuff, took my worked-up Americar, drove around town for half a day trying to lose the tail I surely had, then slot and run for the Cascades.
Captain Bridges had a job, even allowed me to crash into a tourist shack until I managed to get my own cabin. That took a few months. At least being cut from the Sprawl had some good; I stopped smoking and taking dope, got a good mix of paste to get my nerves and senses relaxed from the quicken spells, managed to make a decent sideline betting with trick shooting for the tourists. People just love throwing things in the air and having it shot up lightning fast by some ‘Breeder without chrome using a revolver. They think I’m some sort of cowboy, just that I didn’t bring myself around to wearing a Stetson; can’t shoot up while wearing one. Chopping wood’s bringing me money too. Hundred Nuyen a cord, everyone needs it for the winter. Granted, I almost killed myself a few times when the tree fell and I stood in its 30-degree angle, but I learned from my mistake. Bridges got me making patrols, nothing too far or deep of, since anything that happens to got a touch of weird, I get called in.
-Toad shaman turning part of the woods into his own personal swamp lodge; relocalizing him was easy. -Earth spirit prowling around Ballastor’s mine; ‘Costed me a few nice gems, had to change a few mining procedures but he left the place-I even got a story for Illiya for that one. -Abominable Snowman terrorising trappers in and around their territory; turns out it was some sort of water elemental, but snow based-that was new. I got to test my Magnesium grenade, play with a flamethrower and got a nice pay courteousy of the Fortean Times, so it worth the frost bites and sloppy cough. -Wolves becoming overly violent, stalking and killing hunters; now this one had no real conclusion; they simply stopped after people were barred from going into part of the forest. Must have been that too-deep-into-it wolf shaman, but apart from sightings, nothing solid...I’m pretty sure it must be a canine thing, even Dog and his dogs were acting up; for an Ork he is getting hairier than the average, he must be turning feral as well.
I saw Meg and the others as well. The students looked like real saps, but that was nothing surprising. She was rather inquisitive as well, blame it on Snake, but I played it well enough with a few tease of info to hitch a ride with them for the duration of their trip. Too bad it was a dull old time. Even Shade was decent enough; Meg also vouched for him that he was not the one playing me a patsy. I wasn’t too sure about that, but she has no reason to lie to me.
Another thing I started having is dreams, before it was every once in a while, but now it is almost every night. Not having your mind numbed by drugs must play in it.
Odd things, like talking with Damien Knight waiting for the bus like we’re best chums or just hanging with Asians into a parking lot trying to get out of the there, but never getting around to actually do it. Then it’s having a large fancy dinner with a bunch of people I know, having a good time. Another time it’s having my trigger so damn hard to pull I ended up punching anyone in my way out of frustration or some sort of crazed moment, blowing their head clean off in an overly exaggerated explosion of brains, blood and bones. Then it’s flashbacks, from my youth tp Linnia to mom to Red, then I run off and jump all the way to Transylvania, to wrestle with that werewolf in the Church basement with that Louis idiot watching me from his car seat and not helping at all, if only to give me bad pointers.
Decent enough, but it ain’t home, my home. Clean air’s good but it’s not the pollution-filled atmosphere I grew up in. So here I am, an expat at 25, just a few hundred clicks from home, but no way of getting there without stirring the drek storm. ‘Least I got some peace and quiet I suppose.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Feb 1, 2013 12:42:24 GMT -5
There should be no problem getting your game things moved here, it is not like it is being well used at the moment anyway....
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Jul 30, 2012 19:56:26 GMT -5
Took me a while, since I read 'split' rather than 'spit', just the sound can sell the fuse.
I'd say its a Serpent.
got to add something.
I got nothing so witty, just short and sweet.
What do you call a lesbian living in the far north?
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Oct 8, 2010 7:07:32 GMT -5
GENERAL INFO
Member Name: cxone Edition : 3rd
Name : Mathieu Nicholson Street Name : Snick Race : Human Sex : Male Age : 17
STATS
Body : 6 Quickness :6 Strength : 6 Charisma : 5 Intelligence : 4 Willpower : 4 Essence : 5.6 Magic : 0
Reaction: 5 Initiative: 5+1d6
POOLS
Combat: 7 Spell: 0 Hacking: 0 Control: 0 Astral Combat: 0 Karma Pool: 2 Good Karma: 0
SKILLS Athletics_6 Bike_3 Cyber Weapon Combat(hand razor)_5(7) Etiquette(Street)_3(5) Negotiations_5 Pistols_4 Unarmed Combat_6
KNOWLEDGE SKILLS BTL Dealers_3 Gang Ident_3 Gang politics_3 Gang Turf_3 Local Area Knowledge_3 Lone Star Procedures_3 Prostitution Rings_3 Seattle Sewers_1 Seedy Bars_3
LANGUAGES
English(City Speak)_5(7)
EDGES +1 Int
FLAWS Impulsive
WEAPONS
Name : Browning Max Power Range : HP Conceal : 6 Ammo : 10c Mode : SA Damage : 9M Weight :
Ranges
Bonuses
Accessories
CYBERWARE/BIOWARE
Cyber Eyes W/ Low Light Imp. Ret. Hand Razors
VEHICLES
Vehicle Name: Yamaha Rapier Model: Bike Type:racer
Handling: 3/6 Speed: 195 Max speed: Acceleration: 10 Body: 2 Armor: 0 Signature: 2 Seating: 1 Fuel: Economy: Cost: 12,700
Modifications
Equipment (26,225) BTL Simdeck w/ 5 chips Browning Max Power w/ 3 clips, 30 rounds, con. holster Real Leather Secure Clothing (3/2) Wrist Phone Survival Kit Yamaha Rapier Squatter Lifestyle ( owns )
CONTACTS ( 25,000 ) Bartender (lvl_1) " Mixer " Fence (lvl_1) " Digits " Street Cop (lvl_1) " cpl. Downey " Street Doc (lvl_2) " Scrips " Street Mage (lvl_1) " Whisper " Troll Bouncer (lvl_1) " Drag It "
LIFESTYLE Owns a Squatter.
NUYEN(¥) 327+( 3d6x100)
HISTORY "You don't look so tough to, but that's okay. Whadd'ya expect from some liner who ain't run with mt gang? You looking for tough? You got it right here." "There's only one real power in this part of the "plex. We know the streets, and the people know us. This is our Turf. Gang Turf! And we protect it. you want a piece of us, you know where to find us. That is, if you're stupid enough to try." " Anything you need on the street, you come to me. Just remember, you burn me, the gang burns you. Simple law of the "plex, chummer. We take care of our own."
The gang member maybe young , but he is old in the way of life in the metroplex. He is a survivor, a predator of the concrete jungle. He is tough, smart, and confident.
Snick got is name from the sound his razors make when he pops them out. He dresses in all black leather riding gear which he had secure tech material stitched in side. He doesn't like guns much. He believes that on the street you should be able to take care of things with out pulling a gun.
A_Att_30 pts B_Skills_40 pts C_Res_90,000 D_Meda_Human C_Magic_no
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Oct 7, 2010 7:40:08 GMT -5
GENERAL INFO
Member Name: Shasta Edition : 3rd (Becks)
Name : Jack Bagnall Street Name : Shifter Race : Human Sex : Male Age : 24
STATS
Body : 4(5) Quickness :6 Strength : 4 Charisma : 3 Intelligence :6 Willpower : 5 Essence : 4 Magic : 0
Reaction:6(7) Initiative:6(7) + 1D6
POOLS
Combat:8 Spell: Hacking: Control: Astral Combat: Karma Pool:1 Good Karma:
SKILLS Unarmed Combat: 4 Pistols: 3 Shotguns: 5 Stealth: 2 Etiquette/Street: 2/4 Negotiation: 3 Computer: 3 Electronics: 3 Bike: 6 Car: 2 Computer B/R: 2 Pistols B/R: 2 Shotguns B/R: 2 Bike B/R: 6 Car B/R: 3 Electronics B/R: 4
KNOWLEDGE SKILLS
Fences: 3 Gang Identification: 3 Gang Turf: 2 Police procedures: 1 Seattle Junkyards: 1 Chemistry: 3 Engineering: 4 Gunsmithing: 1 Security devices: 1 Security systems: 2 Bike: 4 Combat biking: 6 Flatvid movies: 2 Pornography: 2 Special utility design: 5
LANGUAGES
English: 6 - Read/write:3
EDGES
Night vision Sense of direction Vehicle empathy
FLAWS
WEAPONS
Name: Colt Manhunter Range: HP Conceal: 5 Ammo: 16© Mode: SA Damage: 9M Weight: 2.5
Ranges
Bonuses Laser sight
Accessories
Standard Holster 1 clip Gel rounds 3 clips Standard
Name: Enfield AS-7 Range: Shotgun Conceal: 1 Ammo: 10© Mode: SA/BF Damage: 8S Weight: 4.85
Ranges
Bonuses Gas Vent III
Accessories
Sling 3 clips Standard solid slug
CYBERWARE/BIOWARE
Ceramic bone lacing Sound filter (1) Ear dampener Data jack
Enhanced Articulation
VEHICLES
Vehicle Name: Harley-Davidson Scorpion Model: Type:
Handling: 4/5 Speed: Max speed:120 Acceleration: 6 Body: 2 Armor: 1 Signature:2 Seating: 2 Fuel: Economy: Cost: 13,500
Modifications
Anti-theft system (4)
Vehicle Name: Suzuki Aurora Model: Type:
Handling: 2/4 Speed: Max speed:210 Acceleration: 11 Body: 2 Armor: 0 Signature:2 Seating: 1 Fuel: Economy: Cost: 18,100
Modifications
Electric shock system
Equipment
Real leather jacket Lined coat Form fitting full-body suit Vehicle kit Electronic toolkit Computer toolkit Vehicle shop Sony encoder II Tabletop PC 250Mp ID scanned palm print (4) Commercial grade film camera
CONTACTS
Jake (Mechanic, ex-boss) Fast Eddie (acquaintance, bartender)
LIFESTYLE
Low lifestyle 6 months – upgraded security on garage
NUYEN (¥) 1587
HISTORY
BACKGROUND: 1) Grew up in (where are we again?) 2) Shifters mother died at an early age. He avoids his father, who is still around, despite his ongoing efforts to drink himself to death. 3) Not unless you count trailer trash as an ethnicity APPEARANCE 4) Reasonably tall, in good shape. Long brown hair kept back in a ponytail. Shaves irregularly and his hands are usually blackened with grease. 5) On the streets or the bike, wears form fitting armor suit under a pair of jeans and leather jacket. Under the hood, coveralls. When expecting trouble, the lined duster replaces the leather jacket. 6) Grubby hands, always has a grease rag hanging out of a pocket somewhere. SKILLS, ATTRIBUTES, AND RESOUCES 7) Learned his electronics, computer and mechanical skills from Jake during his apprenticeship. Riding was something he took to naturally. 8) Most of them picked up while looking for the reasons behind how some aspect of a bike works, did a little research or learned from one of the guys at the garage. 9) Earned most of it while working at the garage for the last 8 years 10) A little 2-room flat. The garage is where he spends most of his time. 11) See contact section 12) No major enemies 13) N/a PERSONALITY 15) Not comfortable with killing; Shifter will kill someone in a firefight if he has to, but prefers to settle disputes non-lethally. Will not steal a bike if he can avoid it; you don't screw with another guys ride
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 9, 2010 19:38:12 GMT -5
“Are you certain of that? I do not recall him being affected so easily.”
“He was working when you noticed him; I know him for far longer than that, watch him grow from a scared child into a man. More than once it got to him, but he never shown it. Being weak results in death in the city.”
“The same as anywhere. It is how the world goes.”
“True. This situation is also blurring out the line between his life with others and his own, something he prides himself with keeping separate. The Time is approaching.”
“Why are you interested in him? He was not kind to your kin, of this I know.”
“It was not his decision at first. It also was survival.”
“Unnatural!"
“So one might not eat a member of the pack if he is dead and none have eaten in a while?”
“...It is not the same thing. The pack is what matters. One would willingly give his life for the pack, for food even, if it was the best interest of the whole.”
“Exactly. If he had not consumed the flesh of my kin, he would have died long ago.”
“You have no way of knowing that. He is strong and fearless. His word is his law. He is more akin to me than you. When battle is joined, he will hear my call, and he shall embrace it.”
“Perhaps. But he has trekked on my domain for far longer than he moved on yours. Winning battles is important to him yes, but he does not have bloodlust. Fighting skills, that he has; crazed combat monster he is not. Battle is one of his field, but he also knows much about what is beyond his reach and uses it well to help those who requires his assistance.”
“He still uses this knowledge to fight! And win! Why can’t you just let him go; you know he will hear my call.”
“Why don’t I? Heh...what do you think cousin, what do you think?” [/i]
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 6, 2010 7:12:30 GMT -5
...And set-up.
|
|
|
Post by Braddoc on Aug 5, 2010 7:10:00 GMT -5
Let me know about it in PM, and I'll have a room set-up for you.
As for chracters waiting approval..send them my way, I'll have a look at them.
|
|