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Old Nov 23rd, 2021, 04:35 PM
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Psalm 144
 
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Chapter 1. A Lethal Assembly

Friday Morning, 2080.05.03 - Wherever you character is starting out



Your Fixer communicating over your commlink
It is 2080 and you have lived through the Cognitive Fragmentation Disorder is a digitally transmitted condition that propagates from nanotech hives and geneware, making anyone wired with that type of tech vulnerable. Basically, infected nanites interact with a host brain, and the personality of the victim is overwritten with that of an AI. Evo's Mars Base Gagarin hosts the largest remaining population of Monads (what the infected call themselves, a throwback to a hacker coding language.).CFD crises from the early 2070s.

Corporate conflicts happen behind closed boardroom doors. When the conflicts spill out onto the streets, the battles are waged by shadowrunners so that the businessmen don't have to get their hands dirty. However, when something big enough to capture public attention happens, fallout is inevitable. The CFD crises caused deep fissures within NeoNET, especially at the top where the Villiers family found themselves at odds with key shareholder (and dragon - they're everywhere) Celedyr. That conflict created enough of an opening for Johnny Spinrad to leverage his personal fortune to merge with AA megacorp Global Sandstorm and turn Spinrad Industries into Spinrad Global. His corp fought for and won a seat on the Corporate Court. Spinrad's gambit upset the balance at the top, reminding other members of the Corporate Court that their spot at the most exclusive club in the world is not permanent.

There is this old saying, the more things change, the more we try to put everything back to normal. The new normal started with a vote. Evo's representative pushed for a review of the ranking standards for A and AA corporations. All of the judges agreed, so the measure was backed by each member of the Big Ten. The new standards fundamentally shifted the requirements for what it meant to be a megacorporation while strengthening the requirements for admission to AA status.

If the goal was to convince A and AA corporations to cannibalize themselves, then mission accomplished. The court's ruling sparked a war that continues to flame to this day. The shifting dynamics of AA admission meant that corps who survived by being just good enough in a lot of different markets no longer received the same ranking as corps that specialized in a specific field and pushed groundbreaking innovations. Information itself became a living thing, crowd-sourced, collated, and weaponized in order to determine who was and wasn't worthy of extraterritoriality. Where there is corporate war, there is work for shadowrunners.

It is early May and there are rumors in the air of something big about to happen.

It's the start of a new day when you get a call from your fixer about a new potential long term job across seas, "I just got off the phone with a Mr. Johnson who was asking for some talent to investigate something over in his neck of the woods across the pond. Said he would cover traveling expenses to meet him in Seattle just to hear his pitch and would even pay for a room at the Four Seasons Hotel near the waterfront. He wants to meet you for dinner at an Ethan Stowell restaurant called the Goldfinch Tavern, which is at that hotel. He says he wants to put you on retainer for several weeks or longer, depending on how long it takes to track down the information he is looking for. I know you said you were looking for a change of scenery, so this sounds like a good opportunity for you. If nothing else, you can get a nice meal out of just listening to what he has to say. Anyway, I sent you a picture of this Mr. Johnson so you will know what he looks like."

 



 

GMAll May Post

Welcome to the campaign. A journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step and this is the first step in this campaign. Please introduce your character and how they get to the meet.

If you want to do any prep work before meeting Mr. Johnson, send those request in your private threads and I will give you the results there. Then you can post them in your public post.

Also, please verify I have your correct stats in the Shadowrunner Data section.
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Last edited by Kenjitsu; Feb 23rd, 2022 at 05:18 PM.
  #2  
Old Feb 1st, 2022, 03:11 AM
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Olia
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Detroit Michigan

Amanda allowed herself to relax only when the airplane took off from the tarmac. She knew she was not far enough away yet, not from him. Momentarily, she distracted herself from thoughts of her ex and wondered to herself,

'Hmm, Amanda Cray...how long has it been since I used that name? Five? Six years?'

But thinking back that far also dredged up unpleasant memories as to why she had given it up and taken the name Olia, a dang hair care product for a street handle. Sitting back in her chair, Amanda sighed and muttered to herself,

"Well, I never claimed to be original."

In fact, Amanda was far from original; take her current plan, for example. Wait for an opportunity to get away undetected, grab everything she owned, and use her magic to scour any trace of her from the apartment and run to one of the few people that might help her. It was a roll of the dice to rely on Edward still helping her once the opportunity presented itself, and she knew it.

Amanda sighed again and decided just to be herself for the first time in years and enjoy the flight. She'll be back to being Olia soon enough.



Seattle

Back on solid ground, Amanda used the SIN she was given at birth for what would probably be the last time. Stepping out of the bustling building, Olia chose to walk from the airport and hail a cab once she was away from the place. Olia knew that King would eventually trace her steps, but she should be long gone by the time he did. Well, as long as she didn't screw up the meet and get thrown out into the slums of Seattle. Making a few stops along the way, Olia picked up a commlink to replace the one she had torn apart and smashed into tiny pieces before activating the device and dialing a Edward's contact for her new Fake IDnumber Edward had made sure she memorized before leaving. On the other side of the line, someone picked up, and she began speaking,

"This is Olia. ....I seem to be ahead of schedule. Is it ready? ...Yes. ...Ellen Peleton? Thank you."

Putting the commlink away, Olia's heart beat a little faster. In just an hour or so, she would see if her plan was a complete success or an utter failure.



Four Seasons Hotel, Seattle

Olia enjoyed the shower in the apartment provided for her by Mr. Johnson and wished she could live like this forever. But even with the nuyen she was looking at receiving for this job, Olia knew she would not be able to afford it. Besides, she was over 50k in the red and needed to pay that off as soon as possible or face busted kneecaps.

Freshly cleaned and smelling of an assortment of fruity flavors, Olia got dressed and made her way down to the meeting room. She was still early and was one of the first to arrive. Olia looked somewhat severe in her casual clothes and sneakers, with her brown-colored hair shiny from the hotel's conditioner. The collar around her neck was buttoned up tight, and she wore a long-sleeved blouse and pants of earthy colors. Even if someone was rude enough to ask, Olia would not tell them the reason why she buttoned everything up was to conceal the fact she was wearing securetech invisi-shield armor under her clothes. As the other runners sat down in the Goldfinch Tavern, Olia simply said,

"Hello."




OOC: I hope you don't mind my Table version of your Logistical Data. I'll throw it in a spoiler if you want. I tend to dislike spoilers after a few incidents where the information was there but people just didn't open the spoiler. I'll also shrink my pic as it's slightly too big for my tastes.

Miner Action:

Major Action:
Olia's Character Sheet^Physical: 0 /10 ^Stun: 0 /8 ^Overflow: 0 /6 vEdge: 7 /7
PAN: Erika Elite Commlink [Rating: 4, DP/F: 3/4, Programs(2): Signal Scrubber & Browse programs] ~ Running Silent? During a run YES, otherwise NO.
Light Collapsible Crossbow(Injection Bolts), Purple Tinted Glasses, Concealable Quick Draw Holster, Subvocal Microphone(when in use), Stealth Tags(when in use), Trauma Slap Patches(when used), Medkit(when in use).
Consumables: Ammo(Light Bolt-Injection): 10, Ammo(Light Bolt-Regular): 20, Stealth Tags: 10, Antidote Slap Patches: 2, Stim Slap Patches[R6]: 2, Tranq Slap Patches[R6]: 2, Trauma Slap Patches: 2, doses of Narcoject: 2, drams of Reagents: 10, Medkit[R6]: 4 uses,
__________________

~ Work just kicked me in the nuts when I wasn't looking.... limited posting from now on. ~

Posting: Friday & Saturday only

Last edited by Silk; Feb 3rd, 2022 at 05:33 AM.
  #3  
Old Feb 1st, 2022, 07:18 PM
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Boris
Boris perched on the end of the very fancy bed, trying hard to keep his rough skin from touching the thousand count bedding and pulling loose fibers. He stared at the bathroom door forlornly. The maintenance team rumbled about inside, their tools whirring and buzzing.

All he’d wanted was a hot shower after the long flight from Moscow. A long shower and maybe a nap. Used as he was to sleeping in odd positions, wherever he could find space basically, aircraft simply hadn’t been designed around his bulk, as his seat neighbors had frequently, and loudly reminded him.

Nor, apparently, had hotel showers. Getting in had been easy enough, he’d ducked beneath the curtain rod and turned the water temperature as high as he could stand it. It was then he realized there wasn’t quite room to turn around, he was sort of wedged in like a sardine in a tin. He couldn’t get out either, somehow the curtain bar managed to catch on his horns every time, until, at last, in a wave of frustration, and, perhaps, a tiny bit of panic, he’d simply forced his way past, snapping the rod right off of the tiles. This was why he preferred community centers, and, sometimes, truck stops for his hygiene needs.

All finished. One of the two men who’d spent the last hour repairing the damage smiled nervously in his general direction, avoiding eye contact. He made to leave, but the second man elbowed him subtly. Face paling farther the first man cleared his throat. The hotel apologizes for any inconvenience, but asks if you could perhaps refrain from using the room shower and perhaps take advantage of the showers provided for our pool for the duration of your stay?

The sentence started out strong, but the longer he talked the more the man’s voice rose, like a deflating balloon, until the question ended on a final squeak.

Of course, Boris nodded, much to the man’s visible relief, and they exited.

Boris didn’t plan on staying much longer anyway. He was here to listen to Mr. Johnson’s offer. If all went well then he wouldn’t be needing the room much longer.

With a heavy sigh Boris suited up, pulling a charity drive leather coat over the armored jacket that was like a second skin. It wasn’t much, but it was the most formal clothing he owned. He popped in his earbuds, then, checking the time, he made his way down to the Goldfinch Tavern as he’d been directed. The place was, to his immense relief, not excessively crowded, but he still felt himself shrinking a little as he made his way through the tables toward the Mr. Johnson he recognized from his fixer’s last communication.

He didn’t say anything, only nodded, as he sat down heavily among those that had already arrived.

 

 

Last edited by stubbornmist; Feb 1st, 2022 at 11:54 PM.
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Old Feb 1st, 2022, 11:54 PM
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Grinder
Bilbao, Spain
""Hey ya' fake keeb, finally have something worth while...?"" Caber took the call while next to the petrol pump, nozzle in hand. It was Romeo, with another potential run, it was always in good humor to rile him up about the quality of work offered. This time was a bit different though, while listening to the info Romeo had for him, Caber was scanning through his cred stick balances... pretty grim. 'If I want to keep up this search I'll need more jing in my pocket. Drek... even if want to keep driving.>>>BALANCE 10¥A balance floated in Cabers vision, placing the nozzle into the polished, silver sedan Caber pumped what he could. ""I can be ready to leave by tomorrow, arrange for a container, I'll be there with the car in the morning. I'll be traveling under the name "Buzz Wagner". Thanks Romeo."" Romeo always called him Grinder, an old tag from his gang days, it was weird to hear it so often.

Just another Flight
Watching the ground crew struggle with the straps holding his car down, Caber crew impatient. ""No, No, No... you need to strap the wheels down with the basket straps, that way the shocks can absorb the vibrations of flight. Strapping the frame will wreck the handling of the car."" Grabbing a couple of straps while he spoke, and securing the front wheels of his pride and joy and supervising the rest of the tie down.
Boarding the flight was strange, this was the first time Caber had flown since he delivered the jet to that secluded hangar in Germany. In a window seat, looking down the trailing edge of the right wing, the thought of being back in the air excited Caber. Unfortunate he wasn't at the controls. In a steady cruise at flight level 42, that's pilot talk for 42,000 above sea level, he found himself analyzing the technique of the flight crew. Looking across the span of the wing Caber thought "If they would just reflex the flaps three more degrees and lower the angle of attack by reducing thrust, they would be surprised how much cruise speed they would gain. Corp trained pilots..." Disappointed in the overall operation of the aircraft Caber leaned his head back and closed his eyes, soon he'd be in Seattle, back in North America.

Goldfinch Tavern
Once in Seattle Caber took it upon himself to take a tour along the water front, taking in the scenery and getting a lay of the streets. After a short drive he found himself in front of the Four Seasons Hotel, a mass of steel and glass veiled by the ocean mist "What kind of trouble will I get in here..." A crooked grin spread across Caber's weathered face. "Yes Ma'am, a reservation for Buzz Wagner, Thank you."
The room was more than what he had been sleeping in the last while, a lot more, it was like he was in the racing circuit again. "We were treated like kings." The space was elegantly simple, clean and perfect. Rubbing his left shoulder, Caber found a window to open, pulled up a chair and took in the ocean breeze. Relaxed and comfortable Caber listened to the surroundings.
Stepping into the Goldfinch Tavern Cabers brown hide loafers could be heard clicking across the hardwood, like a muffled tap shoe. The average height man adjusted his cuffs with gloved hands and looked across the room through black aviators. Cabers steel grey suit was sharp and fitted, with a simple black dress shirt underneath, he approached with confidence. Assessing the crew with a quick glance, Caber focused his attention on Mr. Johnson. Looking over his shoulder for a few seconds, Caber pulls out a chair and sits with Activating his white noise Generator via Wi-Fi, rating 5, 15 meter area.caution across his face. ""Shall we start? Or are there more to arrive?""



 

 

Last edited by BionicEwok; Feb 2nd, 2022 at 10:34 AM. Reason: Forgot to include something.
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Old Feb 3rd, 2022, 02:35 AM
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Ángel
Logroño, Spain
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Angel picked up the comm with a gesture that, in a lesser being, would've smacked of affectation. "Sí," she stated, glancing over her paella at a couple trying to wrangle several small children into obedience. Rolling her eyes, she listened, responding, "Seattle? United and Canadian American States? Ethan Stowell restaurant. Four Seasons hotel. Ethan Stowell at the Goldfinch Tavern. Yes, I received the picture.¿Seattle? ¿Estados Unidos y Canadá Americanos? Restaurante Ethan Stowell. Hotel cuatro estaciones. Ethan Stowell en la taberna Goldfinch. Sí, recibí la imagen."

She checked her comm, memorizing the features of the rather attractive man filling the screen, finding the image useful immediately. Still, business was business. "And how much does it pay? What is the job? ...well, just tell me what you can, I understand. Oh, yeah? I understand. And when do I need to be there?¿Y cuánto paga? ¿Cuál es el trabajo? ...bueno, solo dime lo que puedas, lo entiendo. ¿Oh sí? Entiendo. ¿Y cuándo tengo que estar allí?" She took mental notes, making sure not to write anything down. The father of the army of brats was looking over at her now, a smile that was apparently meant to be charming forming on his lips. RedneckPalurdo, she thought, turning away in distain. Taking a bite of her meal, she set the fork down neatly beside the plate and turned fully away from her distractions...the meal, the family...and said, "Alright, I will be there.Está bien, estaré allí."

As she stood to leave, she paid no attention to the screaming match that had erupted behind her as the mother of the family she had been inspecting began beating the husband with her purse while the children began various reactions of screaming, cheering, or dancing.

Seattle, WA, UCAS

Booking the flight hadn't been hard, really. The flight itself was fairly pleasant, as first class usually was. As pleasant as a four-hour supersonic flight could be, anyway. She would've preferred hypersonic, or even suborbital, but most of her funds were depleted at this point. She could no longer beg, borrow, or steal from family and friends now. Hence, the business trip to the UCAS, which she felt had never truly lived up to its potential. But history was as history was, and the country...however fractured...still offered potential. Once she'd gotten her foot in the door, she could make enough money to maintain her lifestyle tastes. and alleviate some boredom in the meantime.

Upon landing, she immediately regretted her choice. ¡There is no air here!Aquí no hay aire! she thought as she entered the gate area. Swarms of unwashed peasants jostled and shoved each other to get to their destinations, and a myriad of peoples swarmed around her, several of them eyeing her curiously before being swept off to wherever they were bound. Such life! Such energy! Such diversity!¡Tal vida! ¡Qué energía! ¡Qué diversidad! she thought excitedly, finding herself energized for the first time in what felt like forever. She enthusiastically shoved herself into the throng, letting herself be carried to the gate exit and beyond. By the time she located the public transit exit, her hair and clothing were disheveled, and she wore a grin she hadn't sported genuinely in years. Locating a harried attendant, she gained her attention by slipping a script note into the girl's hand and saying in slightly-accented English, "Taxi to the Four Seasons, please." The incidental name-dropping, combined with immediate cash, produced immediate results, to Ángel's great pleasure. A few dwindling script notes later, distributed between the cabbie, the valet, and the desk clerk, and she was soon stretched out on a suitably comfortable bed, heels kicked into the corner of the room. ¡What a wonderful country!Qué maravilloso país! she thought, eyeing the room service menu thoughtfully. ¿Why haven't I visited sooner?Por qué no he visitado antes?

Goldfinch Tavern

She was still slightly jetlagged, despite her enthusiasm, though she'd shaken off most of it with a hot shower once she was settled into her room, though she'd complained to the front desk about the shampoo selection. Descending upon the restaurant like a vengeful goddess, she quickly located the table assigned for the gathering, and swept towards it with all the grace and majesty she could muster. First impressions were important...at least initially. She'd heard nasty things about UCAS citizens, particularly the 'runners in this part of the world, and was gambling that her natural grace and charm would either 'wow' them into submission or antagonize them into robbing her and dumping her into a nearby alley. Honestly, neither option was much different than what she'd fled, so at least she'd gotten to see the Space Needle before it happened.

There were three at the table already: a severe-looking woman, a troll, and a slick-looking man. She'd seen plenty of the human-types before, but she'd never seen an actual troll in person. In the news, of course, though she'd been exposed to minotaurs and a few cyclops. Spain was not particularly forgiving of metahumans, but as bad as Ángel got it as an elf, trolls and their variants got it worse on an order of magnitude. Nodding as she sat down with the group, she said, "Good evening. How are you all tonight?"


 

 

 

Last edited by The Rat Queen; Feb 8th, 2022 at 01:07 PM.
  #6  
Old Feb 3rd, 2022, 09:28 AM
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Cypher
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[Friday 3rd May, 2080; Cypher’s Doss, Puyallup City, Puyallup]

Cypher woke with a groan at the muscles that were protesting the abuse he’d given them last night on the hike through Puyallup after his bike had finally given out on him. He’d been on his way out to Orting to see if one of the Mechanicals would work their technological magic on the aged machine… he should have known better! The ash wastes were murder on mechanics, especially temperamental ones. Rather than drag his friends out to rescue his sorry arse he’d trekked back home using all the skills at his disposal to avoid the predators lurking in the less savoury parts of which is most of itPuyallup.

Struggling out of his hammock Cypher shivered at the cold air that seemed to find its way into his doss no matter where he stuffed shopping bags to try and plug the drafts. For Puyallup the pad was palatial but not for the first time he wished he could afford something just a little bit nicer. Somewhere below him he could hear the raised voices of his neighbours as they made another vain attempt to get their kids to switch on their virtual school program rather than remain glued to their MeFeeds or whatever corp sponsored dross had captured their limited attention this month. Popping open a canister on what passed for a table Cypher fished out his contacts and by feel slipped them on to his eyes. His Sensei ‘link was propped up on the table and once the contacts to synced up he sent his thoughts inwards. To an onlooker the next few moments might have been disturbing to look on but for Cypher it was just a few seconds of discomfort as his body melted in to one of the forms he’d been adopting a lot lately…

right-aligned image
The ’link’s camera projected an image on to her contacts and using it as a virtual mirror she turned to check that she had the details correct. She’d first found the old image of Summer from an old virtual archive in some obscure data centre when she’d been tasked with watching over the danger prone technowitch. When he had asked Cypher to watch over Summer there had been no possibility of developing a friendship let alone what came later. She’d been fragile after her ordeal in Boston and Cypher had been too wrapped up with other concerns to really have time to help someone with their own baggage. But Summer had won her over and this was her way of feeling close to her lover when they were apart. There was no way she was going to drag Summer down here to this drek hole!

Padding bare foot to the cubicle bathroom she ran the tepid water from the shower briefly enough to know there was no way she was washing her hair this morning, not unless she wanted to stink of whatever the water company had overdosed the supply with today. Shrugging she pulled an old Ares tee shirt and leggings out of her go bag and wriggled into them whilst the kaf machine gurgled to itself. Sipping the scalding liquid she briefly scanned the screamsheets whilst she sent a reassuring text to Summer

> I made it home, the bike didn’t. Its out there for the jackals now, I let the Mechanicals know where I dropped it in case they want to scavenge it for parts. I know you said you’re busy today but have you got time for a spin in the Citadel later?

Almost as soon as it was sent the message came through from Feather about a job with a retainer no less! Whilst she didn’t object in principle to an out-of-town gig she’d have to make sure Maddy and her mum would be ok for the duration. Nuyen was nuyen though and Feather wouldn’t be recommending her if it didn’t fit her skill set. Right now any nuyen would be good! Bike’s weren’t exactly cheap and she vowed to get a newer one this time! With the J apparently picking up the transport tab she wouldn’t need to worry about getting Downtown today at least, and with a room at a fancy hotel too… so a taxi it was. She took down the heavy lined coat from its peg and threw it on against the coolness of the late spring air outside. The coat was too big for her in this form, the hem brushing the floor, but she wasn’t ready to change just yet… a robocab wouldn’t pester her with questions or inappropriate suggestions and on the J’s tab the extra expense to get them to come to Puyallup was acceptable…

[Evening, Friday 3rd May, 2080; Goldfinch Tavern, Four Seasons Seattle, 99 Union St, Seattle Metroplex]

right-aligned image
Cypher strode through the upmarket tavern, the lined coat now fitting much better than thirty minutes or so ago. A quick electrostatic charge had swept the worst of Puyallup’s dust off, so he didn’t look like he’d been dragged in from the barrens. He was lean and well-muscled, the picture of health and confidence, portraying the image of a successful runner perfectly. He’d spent an enjoyable afternoon riding around in a robo cab giving it contrary instructions to pass the time before the arranged meet. Part of it he’d spent just looking out of the tinted window and the busy lives of the corp sheep and savouring the slightly scented air-conditioned environment in the cab. The rest had been spent in VR in the Citadel, the massive gaming host that was so popular at the moment, despite its age.

Hello” he said to the others present at the appointed table, sliding in to a free chair with aplomb



 

 

Last edited by Arialles; Feb 3rd, 2022 at 09:29 AM.
  #7  
Old Feb 5th, 2022, 12:23 AM
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Z3R0-D
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The call from a fixer contact arrived at just the perfect moment.

Up until recently, things had been looking fairly down for James Smith - aka Z3R0-D - and the elf had found himself in pretty dire straits. Not only had his personal safehouse been raided, but most of his gear had been taken, which left the technomancer with next to nothing. So, when Pennywise contacted James and informed him of a possible job with a Mr. Johnson, it was too good an opportunity to pass up - James needed some serious cred, he needed replacement gear, and he needed to get back on top of his running game.

"Hey, P," James said as he spoke into his metalink. It was the basic model, nothing special, but it was filtered through James' own PAN. That helped a bit. "How legit does this seem?"

<<"Hey, chummer. Yeah, I'd say it's as good as any other,">> The fixer on the other end scoffed. She laughed. <<"Not like you can be picky right now, right?">>

James grunted.

"True."

And so, the elf listened, as Pennywise began to outline the details of the meeting with the contact. Turned out Johnson wanted someone to do some investigating, possibly internationally, which meant James could escape some of the heat in Seattle. Not only that, but a room was waiting at the Four Seasons Hotel, a pretty fancy place by all accounts, and that alone helped solve almost half of the elf's immediate concerns; a room in a hotel would help him get off the streets, and save him finding a new place right away. Plus, Johnson was paying the tab!

"Okay, so I'm headed for the Goldfinch Tavern?" The elf walked along the busy street, as he shifted and moved out of the way of others. He didn't necessarily like to be touched, but not only that he suspected there were pickpockets around. "I should be able to blend in pretty well with the rich stiffs at the Four Seasons, I'm wearing my suit right now"

Pennywise went on to explain the meeting specifics. She sent through an image of the contact, a typical sleek business type in expensive clothing, and finished up the call soon after. James appreciated the communication, especially since Pennywise could have sent that info to anyone she knew, but had considered his situation specifically.

(I'll send her a gift. Maybe.)

Since the elf lived in Seattle, it didn't take him long to make his way across the city. The biggest worry James had was how many others might be involved, when it came down to it. The job sounded big, or at least involved enough to warrant more than a single runner, so it stood to reason that a team would likely be used. And when it came to others, especially those he didn't know, James tended to be a little more reserved and introverted.

(Nothing for it, I need this.)

Later, around the time of the meeting, James walked into the hotel proper and made his way toward the Goldfinch Tavern. The place was expensive, the decor alone was enough to sell that impression, and the elf knew he had to be on his best behavior. It would do to draw a bunch of ire from rich folks, they tended to be bored enough to hold grudges, and had the cred to do something about it; so, professional, that was the aim for the meeting.

Once inside the place, James looked around. He caught sight of a group at a reserved table, which had been included in the spiel, and made his way over. It looked like a veritable mix-match of individuals, including a huge troll no less. In response, and to bolster up some courage, the elf cleared his throat and approached:

"Hello," James said simply, as he nodded. Out of habit, he looked down and slid onto one of the available chairs. "Figured this might be a team job... looking forward to working with you all."

To keep his mind focused, James straightened out his suit jacket, and began to look around the table. Each of the individuals looked capable, definitely as guarded as he was, but also seeming to be polite enough. All that remained was for the man of the hour to make himself known, James supposed...



 

 

Last edited by Humble Hero; Feb 5th, 2022 at 12:25 AM.
  #8  
Old Feb 7th, 2022, 11:39 AM
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Psalm 144
 
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Friday Evening, 2080.05.03 - Goldfinch Tavern at The Four Seasons Hotel in Seattle Washington, UCSA



Mr. Johnson
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The hotel restaurant is on the nice end of the scale as far as restaurants are judged but at the same time was not too ostentatious. While some might think he was trying to impressed the runners, the reality is more that this is lifestyle that he is used to and if anything, he picked something lesser in an attempt to make the runners feel less out of place.

When the last of the party arrived, Mr. Johnson introduced himself. "Thank you all for coming. Before we get down to why I asked you all here, let's order diner. This meal is on me, so feel free to order anything on the menu." With that, as if on cue, a waitress came over to take everyone's orders.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Mr. Johnson tried to get a conversation started, "While I appreciate the skills you guys bring to the table, I'm curious, why did you choose to become a Shadowrunner?"

Once the food arrived, Mr. Johnson was willing to converse in small talk, but refrained from giving any personal information or any details about the job until after everyone finished eating. After the plates were cleared and everyone had an opportunity to order any after dinner beverages, Mr. Johnson finally started to get down to business. "Here's what I know, or at least what I strongly believe: In the near future, someone important is going to be assassinated in Barcelona. Several signs point in that direction: Some heavy hitters have moved into the sprawl, while some light hitters have left town to clear out some space. Law enforcement has picked up some buzz about this, too, but they only know something is in the works, not what. They don't know it's an assassination. I need to know more, and I'll pay you to find out what's going on before it happens. Then we can figure out if we want to stop it.

I'll pay your way to Barcelona, then each of you will be on a five-thousand-nuyen-a-week retainer. That should cover food and lodging, but you can contact me if there are any extraordinary expenses you need help with. "





 

GMAll May Post

I would like for everyone to give me a perception check(3). For those that are new, here is how you would do that.

A Perception Check for observing an environment is a simple test, which means you will roll a number of dice equal to your perception skill rank + your Intuition rank against a threshold I will provide, in this case a three.

While I would like everyone to use the dice thread here, I am okay with those that are used to including their rolls in their post. For new players to this site, I would recommend using the dice thread for now. The reason is because if you make any changes to the dice tag, it will generate a big red warning that will not go away in your post. It is easy to forget about a roll in a post and then either make an edit or copy and paste it into a new post, both of which will trigger the warning message. The same if you ever make a roll and then try to delete it. Anyway, having a dedicated dice thread eliminates the possibility of making a mistake in your game posts. I am also okay with people doing rolls in their private threads for times you want the results so that you can add them to your post. In this case, this is a general call for a check, so using the public dice thread is still preferable.

So, how to make the actual roll, you will use the following tag to generate a roll:
Perception Check: Perception(5) + Intuition(5)
[dice=Perception Check]10d6smch5[/dice]

This will give you a result like:
Example Dice Roll
Perception Check(3): Perception(5) + Intuition(5)
Dice Perception Check:
10d6smch5 3 ✘, 3 ✘, 3 ✘, 1 ✘, 4 ✘, 4 ✘, 4 ✘, 6 ✔, 1 ✘, 5 ✔ (2/10) 1⇑ 2⇓ Total = 34

Results: 2 hits - Failed check


In Shadowrun, we look at the number of hits (which is any dice roll of 5 or 6). But you must also look at the number of 1's that are rolls. If half the dice or more are 1's, that is considered a glitch. A glitch is just another way of saying something bad happens.

Then I will let you know the results of your roll, either in a game post, in the OOC thread, or in your private thread.


For those of you new to Shadowrun, this is the Meet. The time you meet up with a Mr. Johnson, get details about the job, and then negotiate the compensation.

Mr. Johnson has just outlined the details of the contract and has stated what the compensation will be. You guys can now try to negotiate for more compensation if you wish. Since this is a group, it will probably be best if one person is the focus of the roll and everyone else helps them. To help, all the helpers roll first, with hits going to the main person who is being helped. The main person can only accept a number of hits for help up to their skill level, in this case, Negotiation.

This will be a Negotiations Opposed Check, which means you will roll against Mr. Johnson instead of having a set threshold.

Negotiation Check: Influence + Charisma vs. Willpower + Intuition.

This is a good time to bring up Edge as well, edge can be used to enhance your dice rolls. Some edge will be gained by specific qualities you have, while others are granted based on the current situation. In this case, the main person negotiating will get gain an edge because the listener (Mr. Johnson) is desperate (well, not desperate, but really does want this information). Edge can be used multiple ways, but I will not cover all of that here. I will just note that it is worth reading up on.

Also, remember if you have a specialization that applies to one of the skill checks, you can add 2 to your dice pool.


Last edited by Kenjitsu; Feb 7th, 2022 at 11:46 AM.
  #9  
Old Feb 7th, 2022, 01:31 PM
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Ángel
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Ángel greeted the others with a nod and a brief word, observing while they waited for the Johnson to show. She enjoyed the Goldfinch, finding it charming without being gauche. She made pleasant small talk, and tried to get to know the others a bit. If they were going to be working together, it was best if they knew a bit about each other and their relative skills.

When the Johnson finally joined them, she gave a similar greeting, observing his mannerisms and not only what he said, but how he said it. She avoided being too specific about her path to becoming a Shadowrunner, giving a somewhat vague answer of, "Oh, you know how it is, Señor Johnson. The road of Life has many twists and turns, and we are simply along for the ride."

When the waiter arrived, she ordered something light, mostly to fulfil social obligations of being a dinner guest. "The burrata, please," she said quietly when it was her turn to order. "And a glass of the Marques de Murrieta Reserva." She then went back to paying attention to the meeting, picking lightly at her radicchio and sipping her wine sparingly.

Her brows raised at the mention of an assassination. She could think of a short list of about a dozen that would be immediate likely targets, all with varying reasons why they would be targeted. She had been to Barcelona, but not extensively, and the city was big enough that little experience was virtually the same as no experience.

As far as negotiations went, she glanced around the table, hoping someone else would take up that particular role. She had never been the subtle type; she tended to do her negotiating at sword point, and this was hardly the time or place for that style of negotiation.



OOCFour hits on Perception.

 

 

 

Last edited by The Rat Queen; Feb 8th, 2022 at 01:08 PM.
  #10  
Old Feb 7th, 2022, 11:58 PM
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Boris

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Boris stared at the menu in consternation, his big fingers gripping the edges as delicately as he was capable. He didn’t recognize half the items...what the drek was gribiche sauce?

It only served to escalate his growing discomfort. He resisted the urge to scratch at the back of his neck, certain he was being watched from all corners of the tavern, though his table company seemed to be polite enough not to stare directly. He flipped the menu over, relieved to see food that made sense.

"I’ll have the sandwich", his heavy Russian accent seemed to confuse the waitress, if her pinched brows were anything to go by, so he pointed to his selection for clarity. "Dis one".

"...Sir...that’s..."

Boris cleared his throat, halting her protest. "You bring four, yes? And a Heineken, if you please." He laid the menu down as if it would burn him, and turned his attention to the others.

Mr. Johnson was asking about running. Polite conversation, and pointless, he thought. It was unlikely any of the runners at the table were going to be any more honest with their answer than he was. When the question was finally imposed upon him he merely answered "It makes ends meet." Mr Johnson seemed satisfied with that, and Boris was happy to enjoy his peanut butter and jam sandwiches as the others spoke of trivial matters.

When at last the meal was finished Boris listened intently to the job description.

Assassination. This was a bigger job than he expected. Bigger than anything he’d done before, and it was likely going to involve some highly political figures. The idea was intimidating.

But, five thousand a week...he’d be a fool to pass that up, and despite a nagging uncertainty that he was capable enough for the job, a sense of anticipation filled him. Besides, it wasn’t as if he was going to be working alone.

Mr Johnson’s speech was over and the table seemed to hover on a blade’s edge. Waiting for something...negotiations? Boris shrank down in his seat and waited to see what would happen.

 

 


OOC Boris got 3 on his perception roll
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Old Feb 8th, 2022, 12:04 AM
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Team meeting
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Caber watched as the remaining members joined the table, analyzing them as they moved and talked. Hmmm... just a bunch of kids chasing the jing, hope they know better not frag this up." Looking over the troll, he raised one eyebrow out of curiosity, "Don't know how old that one would be, but it looks like he fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down."
Turning his attention outside, Caber looked carefully out the windows. Double checking the strategic parking of the car, placed just right for a unplanned exit. Ya' never know when a job could turn into an attempted hit. Continuing his scan of the area Caber was looking for a suit that could possibly be a Johnson, someone dressed like big business. Realizing he was lost in his surveillance Caber returned his attention to the table, and formerly introduced himself ""Howdy folks, the name is Grinder."" Making idle chatter with ones that wanted to engage, and keeping a steady scan of the tavern.

A clean cut, handsome gentleman entered the establishment. It was confident walk that gave him away, Caber had seen this posturing before. Our Mr. Johnson has power and knows it, bargaining for a few extra creds may be harder than he initially anticipated. As the man presented himself to the crew Caber greeted him with a simple nod. Knowing these kind of people never travel alone he kept an eye on the surroundings, while listening to his small talk. Perusing the menu Caber didn't know what to think, "Can't a guy get a nice steak sandwich anymore? I really don't need my meal dressed in a skirt of cilantro and crowned with a lemon top hat." The waitress was waiting patiently, "Yes ma'am, I'll have the burger, yep the Goldfinch burger with fries. If you don't mind, could you tell me if you have real coffee, black. None of that soy-cafe drek." Caber had real coffee a few times in his life, now it's become an obsession to find where ever he goes.

Directing his attention back to Mr. Johnson, Caber gave a generic answer to his questions about running. ""Ya' see sir..."" Swallowing a bite of burger and wiping his chin, ""Sometimes life puts you in a hole to climb out of, yet you still have goals to achieve. Ya' take what you have and start working towards your goals, this is what I have to work with.""

Listening to the vagueness of the hosts request Grinder spoke up, ""So what you're saying is you want us to find something based on a gut feeling you're having? I don't speak for everyone here I'm sure, but we may need a bit of a lead, possibly a name. I've searched for ghosts before.""

OOCI had 5 hits on my roll. https://www.rpgcrossing.com/showthre...67#post9389167



 

 

Last edited by BionicEwok; Feb 8th, 2022 at 01:03 AM.
  #12  
Old Feb 8th, 2022, 12:14 AM
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Z3R0-D
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The small talk was just that, small talk. It seemed the others involved in the job were decent enough, on first impression, but it remained to be seen how each of them was on the job. There were some obvious purposes some individuals served, as James caught sight of some chrome and other bits, but otherwise he remained as nonjudgmental as possible - at least for now.

When Mr. Johnson arrived, James half-raised from his chair, and resumed seating when the other did. Sometimes it helped to show some level of respect, especially since the boss was present and the one paying the bills. James paid attention, he watched and observed what he could, and ordered some food when prompted. James ordered meat... or at least whatever was mostly composed of it, on the menu.

(Oh, man, could I do with some actual meat.)

The boss opened up the table to sharing reasons for becoming runners, to which James waited until a fellow elf - with a seeming Hispanic accent - had finished sharing, though admittedly it was kind of a non-tell. The technomancer decided to share, though when he spoke his voice was low - perhaps even a little quiet:

"I found out I was good at it, early on. So I stuck with it. Earned a little bit of rep along the way, too."

James looked around the table as others spoke - or didn't - and took in details. Yet, when the food arrived, the elf wasn't afraid to admit his attention was taken by the meal. It had been a while since James had enjoyed a quality meal, so he began to eat, and paused every so often to listen as more was said.

(Delicious.)

By the time dinner was done, James' attention was on Mr. Johnson again. He decided against a particular beverage, instead just ordering fresh water, and then listened as the job was outlined. Seemed an assassination abroad was the concern, in Barcelona no less, and the retainer offer seemed fairly generous. The elf wondered if there were any catches... but, for now, he supposed only limited information would be shared until official acceptance of the job was given. James began to think, as he rubbed his chin, wondering if it was all as straightforward as it sounded - and as a result, his attention was very internal, thoughtful.

Though, James glanced to the guy named Grinder, as he began to speak and ask questions.

(Glad someone is willing. I'm... not as keen to.)

So, the elf sat there, happy to not be the focus of attention and simply listened...



 

 
  #13  
Old Feb 9th, 2022, 07:06 PM
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Cypher
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[Evening, Friday 3rd May, 2080; Goldfinch Tavern, Four Seasons Seattle, 99 Union St, Seattle Metroplex]

Cypher was more inclined to listen than to speak, at least for now, but the J’s efforts at small talk deserved at least a cursory response

Those of us unlucky, or perhaps lucky, enough to be born without a SIN face limited choices. Like our elven companion…” with the briefest of nods to Z3R0-D “I am good at what I do and people find that valuable. I prefer to work freelance

As to what exactly he might do it was difficult to tell. He lacked obvious chrome, although certainly moved more smoothly that someone without any hidden talents. He didn’t have the raw physicality of most samurai and he didn’t seem as forthcoming as most Faces. He projected an air of calm confidence and presumably he was here for a purpose otherwise that expensive meal he’d just sampled was going to be a hole in the J’s expense account…



 

 

Last edited by Arialles; Feb 9th, 2022 at 07:08 PM.
  #14  
Old Feb 9th, 2022, 10:16 PM
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Olia
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As a way of introduction, she ran her hand through her still shining brunette hair and said,

"Everyone can call me Olia."

Olia wondered if any of the men at the table would get the reference of her street name and smiled lightly as she made a wager with herself that at most, only one would. When asked to order, Olia eagerly ordered a plate of spaghetti and a cup of real coffee. For a business meeting, spaghetti was perhaps a bit too messy, but there was no way that Olia was going to miss the chance to eat authentic pasta again after the past several years of living off of soy-based food products. After everyone was done ordering and Mr. Johnson asked that question about why they became shadowrunners, Olia was taken aback. After the other shadowrunners answered, Olia, hesitated before saying,

"After my mother died when I was in college, I guess I just fell into the shadows...no, not fell, stumbled. And then a...friend...pulled me the rest of the way in."

The way Olia said the word "friend", it was evident by her tone that he or she was no longer considered one. Olia was lost in the past until the food arrived. After killing her coffee with a heaping scoop of real sugar and having to sip it to lower the level enough to hold the amount of cream she desired, Olia dug into her spaghetti as if she were remembering a time when such delicacies were plentiful. Olia dabbed at any sauce splatters with a napkin but largely ignored everyone as she made contented noises and enjoyed her meal immensely.

After the satisfying meal, Olia made sure her face was clean of spaghetti sauce droplets with a clean napkin and her makeup compact while Mr. Johnson gave his pitch. As she was in desperate need of nuyen, almost as much as Mr. Johnson needed the information he was after, Olia was immediately willing to take the job. Though Olia was willing, she wouldn't tell him that. She wanted to get as much as possible out of this arrangement, so with a slightly amused smile, Olia said,

"I'm in. But while the pay is good, most of us will have to work in a completely different city with a foreign language and culture. To make up for that deficit, we'll have to bribe people, pay for drinks, etcetera, etcetera. That could get costly right off the plane."

Olia seemed to have a thought and warily asked a question as if she did not think she would like the answer,

"Do you expect us to stop these assassins ourselves?"




OOC: Perception: 3 hits Influence(negotiation)+Add Edge to your dice pool(exploding 6's): 4 hits (add +4 to main Negotiator's roll)

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Last edited by Silk; Feb 9th, 2022 at 10:22 PM.
  #15  
Old Feb 9th, 2022, 11:59 PM
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Who the frag are you?
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Grinder looked over his potential crew with curiosity, "We haven't even heard the details of what the man wants and you're already trying to dip in the purse? I agree a foreign job like this will cost some creds, and more than he's offering no doubt."

Caber scanned his audience for any reaction, "Before we can help Mr. Johnson we need to be able to help each other... so... what do you thrive at? Myself, I'm a wheel man. If it floats, drives or flies I can get you to where you're going. I also tend to pick up on things some folks don't see."

Looking directly at Olia, "Don't worry miss, once we get settled in Barcelona I'll pony up the jing and get you a nice hotel room. Maybe we can convince the troll to dye your hair, you got a favorite color Olia?" Finishing with a wry smile, The Grinder waited for someone to contribute.

"You know she's right. The logistics of melding into a whole 'nother culture will take not only more cash, it'll require building a completely new network of trust." As Caber spoke he eyed up a handful of individuals he'd noticed fixed around the Goldfinch, turning his gaze towards Mr. Johnson. "Sir, You understand this right? We have a lot of people that we need to buy trust from."



 

 

Last edited by BionicEwok; Feb 10th, 2022 at 10:27 PM. Reason: Added dialog towards Mr. Johnson
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