[Characters] Round 0 - Applications

[Admin Bhelogan]

Applications are now Closed!

Prologue A few years have passed since The Crossing Companions literally burst onto the scene. People still talked about the "trucking accident" that took out The Waltzing Witch, and the rumors had only gotten more outlandish over the years. Gang war, corporate weapons testing, an incursion of interdimensional beings, dragons, always with the dragons. Tamara, Jake, and Ju1c3 were just as active as the rumors. The trio grew the organization and attracted a stable of runners from all walks of life and all skill sets. When you've more questions than answers, you never knew which rocks you needed to turn, who'd be best to turn them, or what would come scurrying out when they did. It paid to be prepared, and The Companions paid well. Your comlink chirps, the annoying tone Ju1c3 himself programmed in. <<Jake got got>> <<Boss Lady wants everyone at WW2.0 ASAP>> <<Come ready to work>> You place the comlink down. People going missing all the time, part of the sprawl of life, but recently, big names have gone dark and en masse. It was more than troubling rumors. It was real now. Respect for Jake? Respect for the organization? The thought of the kind of payday Boss Lady will offer for the return of her son? Slow Tuesday? All good reasons to get off your butt and down to The Waltzing Witch 2.0.

Application rules This year we using The Outplay System rev 2022 Applications will have two separate sections, each to be in their own fieldset. First is the Stat Block, which should be appended to all game posts in place of a character sheet. The second is the Character Write-up. The Stat Block will have a word limit of 500 words. The Character Write-up has a limit of 1000 This excludes any BBcode mark-up, but DOES include any and all visible text in the application for both sectionswords. The judges will be relying on this website to count your words, so it is recommended you do the same. Stat Block Character generation is described in the system rules in 4 steps. You may choose your Race and Character Number (CN), or roll for a random result. Random rolls will receive an extra point on the Judges' Scorecards. All Known Moves/Programs/Drone Moves/Complex Forms/Spells will be reviewed and must be approved by the GM and Judges. We will attempt to answer questions throughout Round 0. Anything not reviewed or corrected by the deadline will be addressed during Character Sheet Reviews and should be adjusted on July 2nd and 3rd. Character Write-up A description of their physical appearance and personality A backstory Tell us why your character joined the Crossing Companions, and maybe list some of their achievements since joining their ranks Images are not required but may be included. Please keep them to a reasonable size, if you include any. Musical selections will likely not be considered by the judges. Your application should be anonymized. When you post your application, please put it under BOTH a spoiler tag AND a secret tag   [SPOILERBUTTON="my clever spoiler label"][SECRET="outplay judges"]<INSERT ENTIRE APPLICATION HERE>[/SECRET][/SPOILERBUTTON] Applications close on Friday June 24th at 6pm EST. You may freely edit your submission up to that due date. Any edits after that time will result in disqualification.

[Mindsiege]

Stat Block Name: Kodoku, Lethal Emissary of Spirits Race: Invae (free spirit) Character Number: 2 Archetype: Magic Adventuring Gear: Commlink: Highest grade equipment and very expensive. Colt America L36: One of the most common pistols on the market. Carried concealed and mostly as a cover in case of a job asking for voluntary disarmament. Skull pin: On the surface it's just a slightly tacky adornment, a little skull carved from pure ebony and attached to a golden chain. On the astral layer, however, the skull reveals itself as a powerful, unique artifact that is able to enhance Kodoku's inherent spiritual energy. Known Spells: Mana Toxin [Damage - Signature Move]: A toxic substance is physically created, exuding from the host's skin. The host is immune to the physiological effects of the toxin. The substance is additionally infused with mana and is harmful on the astral layer additionally to being one of the strongest toxins in existence, no matter if applied as a venom or a poison. Flesh Form [Utility]: The host's body has been fully merged with the insect spirit. Through spiritual energy, the host's body is enhanced beyond a normal human's physiology. While the host's body becomes naturally more resistant to mundane weaponry (with the exception of specialized equipment like flamethrowers or insecticide), this spell enables the spirit to consciously assert its spiritual energy into the host's body parts to allow for rapid movement and other feats of supernatural athleticism. Invest Energy [Buff]: The insect spirit is able to invest its spiritual energy into targets of its choosing to various degrees. In particular instances, the invested energy is the spirit's primary ability to create newly merged insect spirits, which forces the freshly created hosts to go into a prolonged gestation period. This usage of investing the spirit's energy is inapplicable during everyday purposes. For the sake of working in the shadows, the spirit is able to limit the invested energy to levels that stay harmless for the recipient. In those cases, the invested target receives a gift of spiritual energy which enhances all of the recipient's natural abilities and skills. For each success on the Outplay Roll of the spellcast, one more target in physical proximity to the host can be chosen to receive enough spiritual energy to add one additional d6 to a subsequent Outplay Roll of their choosing.

Character Write-up Mathew McConnor wiped his brow with a handkerchief as he sat down on his side of the interview table. His opposite who had introduced himself politely a few seconds ago also sat down, but Mathew couldn't help feeling uncomfortable as a massive chill crept up his spine and made every last tiny hair on his neck and arms stand up straight. Something about Adam Mikhailov was thoroughly unnerving and while Mathew and Big Mole, his information guy for the day, had thoroughly prepared to receive the sole son and inheritor of the Mikhailov Conglomerate at this Crossing Companion hideout today, the data feeds that Mathew had watched beforehand had been unable to capture the... aura which seemed to be following this immaculately dressed nouveau riche on what must have been designer heels. "Are you surprised that I requested this audition with your organization?" Mr. Mikhailov's expression was entirely deadpan and although the way his dark eyes stared right into Mathew's might have just been psychological tactics to get into Mathew's head, something deeply instinctual was telling the interviewer that this was not the case. He wasn't being looked at. Not really. Why is my mouth so dry? He may be influential, but recruitment has never been better. We're no small fish. I don't know what deal this guy will have to offer, but this has no right to be this intense! And yet Mathew had to clear his throat before he could pick up the conversation. "Truthfully, we were surprised. Now. How can we, The Crossing Companions, help you today, sir?" There were good odds that Mr. Mikhailov was merely trying to avail himself as a John and nobody had told him of a better way to go about it other than scheduling this appointment through secretive back channels. Although the two of them sitting in this room was reason enough to be on high alert, there was plenty of public information that Big Mole had dug up and which shone a light on Adam Mikhailov as a rather charitable businessman in a world of wolves. And although he was rich and thus inherently dangerous, the nature of his particular business described him as harmless, at least as far as the Companions were concerned. Yet having him sitting in front of me like this... Why don't I believe it? Just as direct as he had been before, Mr. Mikhailov quickly revealed his true business today as he also seemed interested to keep matters more direct. "Let me abbreviate your misconceptions, Mr. McConnor. I'm not here to hire you. I'm offering to work for you. As a hitman, runner, whatever. You name it. My codename will be Kodoku. Today I'm coming to you as the ambassador of my people and we are aiming to create lasting ties with your organization. We are not interested in Nuyen. We are interested in building hospitable relations." While Mathew had expected a lot, he hadn't expected that. <<Kodoku. Japanese folklore. Basically, it's a curse created by putting dozens of highly poisonous insects into a jar and starving them until only one of them remains having eaten all the others. Wow, our guy's edgy!>> With Big Mole's trivia buzzing into Mathew's ears over the comm, the interviewer still felt surprised that this was now seeming to become a runner recruitment talk. And still, the cold sweat pearling at the back of his neck reminded him that this conversation couldn't be that easy. "Aha. Kodoku. Well, we gladly accept all specialists." All the information had shown that there was nothing special behind Adam Mikhailov. Yet rather obviously that was not the case. "But why are we having this conversation here then? Who..." An ominous feeling overcame Mathew as he looked into Kodoku's dark eyes, devoid of any of the rich emotions that he had displayed on any of those old data feeds. How could a man have changed this much in merely three years? Mathew's question came across his lips with difficulty as he instinctively knew that he didn't want to know the answer. "...are your people that you are creating these relations for, as you say?" There was something regal about how the businessman with apparent hitman ambitions was sitting across from Mathew at this interview table. Something eerily superior. And something alien. This 'man' was able to say the most outrageous things without even a twitch of his facial expression. And he cut straight to business. "I am what metahumanity has specified as an insect spirit. An Invae of the centipede variety. I am a nymph, growing to become a queen. And I am here today to strike pacts that will ensure cooperation, reciprocation of favours, and mutual acquiescence to each other's interests." Mathew blinked. Another chilling shudder ran down his spine. He immediately believed every word that had just been said to him and it rattled him to his bone marrow. <<Alert! We need more Companions at cell Omega-45! Guys, I think Mathew's about to croak!>> Big Mole's unveiled pessimism was decidedly not giving Mathew any more confidence in his own survival, but something instinctual urged him not to draw his weapon right then. <<Deadly and amoral, insect spirits are among the worst of the worst that the 6th world has to offer! Pulled into the world by insect shamans and responsible for mass murder and the depopulation of entire sprawls or even cities. These are free spirits that are melded to a metahuman host, and then as a hive they overtake and start assimilating the surrounding ecosystem! Meaning killing, feeding, building, and expanding! Hyper intelligent, highly magical, and entirely ruthless! It was a good run, Mathew! Sorry, bud!>> The interviewer that was already written off by his decker kept his cool, trying not to show his nerves at the possibility of his nearing demise. "Pardon?" The question was directed at Kodoku, alas Big Mole kept spamming trivia unabated. <<Wait, wait, wait! If this is a nymph, that's super rare for a male host! They are like juvenile queens, and queens are the most powerful and also capable to pull new spirits into our sphere without even needing any shamans!>> Incidentally Mathew already knew all of this, having taken an interest in what happened when insect spirits had overtaken Bug City. The disaster that had given Chicago its nickname in 2055. And although Mathew hoped that centipede spirits were of the solitary kind, it was undeniable that he was in mortal danger right now. "Do not be so frightened, Mr. McConnor. My hive is barely able to call itself that. I can tell that you've not heard of the Invae for the first time. Let me assure you that we only take voluntary hosts and that we explicitly do not feed on anything humanoid. I commend you for reacting as calmly as you have. I am quite looking forward to our peaceful relations." As unnerving as sitting across this seemingly perfect merge of spirit and man was, Mathew realized that now all of his intuition made perfect sense. This was no longer Adam Mikhailov. Maybe once it had been, but if the merging had been voluntary then Adam must have turned his body over to these spirits for some reason. If this was a 'good merge', which it highly seemed, then Kodoku had all of the young man's memories and now also all the connections that his legal position within his family's conglomerate offered. Whatever desperation had made Adam throw his life away, the being sitting in front of Mathew was now a high threat, both socially but also because as a centipede this still was a natural predator. But it had come to the Companions requesting for... admission and peace? "Ahem... Peace...?" He was talking with an insect spirit and from Mathew's understanding a high-calibre one at that. Nymphs, as far as he remembered, verily ranked above soldier spirits. And still, something about how Kodoku had started these negotiations and how Mathew still wasn't dead motivated him to properly hear this spirit out. "Exactly." The 'man' remaining of Adam Mikhailov seemed indifferent to Mathew's badly veiled distress. Or he had already calculated how this interview would go. His tone remained dry and Mathew felt himself in the presence of an unscrupulous schemer. "I've convinced my queen that it is time to avail ourselves of proper public relations. Your organization may act within the shadows, but this will suit us. By the token of our goodwill and trust, I am here today being utterly forthcoming, Mr. McConnor. What more do you need to hear from me to make this work?" Kodoku made a conversational gesture that invited a favourable reply. It was a gesture that had once belonged to a young man named Adam. Mathew was torn, but even when Big Mole informed him that reinforcements had gathered behind the door, the interviewer had gotten intrigued. "Ahem... Mr. Mikhailov... Let's say that I would like to hear more..."

Rolls Dice Race: d6 6 Dice CN: d4+1 (1)+1 Total = 2

[jbear]

Dwight Dunder Name: Dwight Dunder Runner Name: Four Eyes (or Ricky's dweeb cousin, Four Eyes) Preferred Runner Names: Master of Disguise, Disguise Master, the Chameleon, Ghost, Skinshifter, Head Security Chief, Head Chief of Security, Chief, Assistant Manager, Chief Assistant Manager, Wild Dog, Cyclops, Chopper ... the list goes on. Appearance: Dwight stands 129 cm tall. 133 cm in heels. He stands straight, chin up and proud like his human father, face shaved daily. When he's not wearing a crafty disguise, Dwight sports a Pantene Purple mohawk to fit in with his Shadowrunner pals, a radical change from his habitual tidy blonde trim. He wears a bargain-bin short-sleeved shirt and a striped brown tie. However, Dwight has cut the tie in half to show he sticks it to the man now too. His tight brown pants are flared to cover the heels. His heels are his business and his alone. Black nunchuck holster straps criss-cross his chest and thin-rimmed commlink glasses with magnifying lenses make his eyes look larger than his face. Backstory: The only son of a xenophobic human megacorp CEO, Dwight was a disappointment from the day he was born. Dwight Dunder Senior had transformed himself from a small business operator in the dying paper company industry into one of the most rich and powerful men in the Allied German States through a lucky investment of his entire fortune in the pharmaceutical industry in early 2019. A successful merger with Mifflin Nano-Tech Industry months before the nano industry exploded turned Dunder Senior's millions into trillions. He was a proud man, a tall man, looking down on all those around him. The birth of his son should have been another trophy on his trophy wall next to his trophy wife, Bolo. Instead of giving birth to a human child, Bolo gave birth to a plump dwarf. Dwight Dunder Senior was mortally embarrassed by 'his deformed son' and 'his shameful stature' (Dwight Senior's words, not mine). After the divorce, Dwight Senior tried to correct the mistake. Nevertheless, after four more failed marriages and three daughters, Dwight Dunder Junior remained Dwight Senior's only son. Dwight spent his days trying to impress his distant father and caring for his stepmothers who all seemed to suffer the same destructive day-drinking habits. Alas, the nano-tech experiments Dwight underwent to reverse his dwarfism only resulted in a net growth of 9 cm. Dwight was immensely proud of the growth. He was far taller than your average dwarf. The minuscule improvement bitterly disappointed his father. Dwight Junior would never be a worthy heir. When Dwight came of age, he was given a data input position at his father's company. Within a year, Dwight had accidentally destroyed countless computers and sent a deadly virus throughout the corporation's network that had made sensitive documents go public. This initiated a hostile take-over of Dunder&Mifflin from which Dwight Senior would never truly recover. It didn't take long for the virus to be traced back to Dwight Junior's workstation. Dwight survived eleven assassination attempts before he got the message he was no longer welcome at Dunder&Mifflin. Mortal wounds still being restitched by his E-Nano Symbiote implant, Dwight packed his briefcase and descended from the privileged heights of the corporate world to the destitute dregs of humanity teeming in the streets. Dwight's aimless wandering got him caught in the middle of a street war where he took three bullets to the chest. As he lay there not dying in the aftermath, but looking very much dead, Dwight was privy to a conversation about a certain 'trucking accident'. The conversation piqued his curiosity. When the speakers left, Dwight tailed them back to what would become the Waltzing Witch 2.0. At the time, the place was in chaos. Security was lax. A lot of Companions were dead or M.I.A. The guard at the door was a buffoon, mistaking Dwight for ‘Ricky's dweeb cousin 'Four Eyes'’. Dwight played along, accepting the Shadowrunner name as his own, for a time at least. One of Dwight's most redeeming features was going unnoticed; it was taken for granted he was simply part of the gang. This Ricky wasn't around to say otherwise and the real Four Eyes never showed up to spoil the game. So Dwight's Shadowrunning career began... just sort of tagging along when he wasn't invited. These street folk were soft, unalert, and unprepared. Dwight would change that. He would make them more alert. More prepared. More soft. I mean, less soft. He appointed himself as Head Security Chief and Assistant Manager, working tirelessly to bring order to the chaotic criminal organisation. When news of Jake's disappearance came over Dwight's comlink, he was delighted. This was his chance to replace Jake and become Chief Assistant Manager ... or maybe even Manager. Or Chief. This was just the opportunity he had been waiting for! Dwight put on his leather gloves, buckled his yellow helmet and leapt on his Vespa to race across town to the Witch, obeying the traffic signals along the way.

Stat Block Race: Dwarf Archetype: Technomancer CN3 Adventuring Gear: Commlink, Weapon: Can deliver Midas Virus as a DAMAGE effect to tech.Nano-Tech Nunchucks, Living Persona: E-Nano Symbiote Complex Form 1 (CF1) Midas Virus (Debuff): Everything Dwight 'touches' turn to shite. Systems malfunction. Drones shortcircuit. Cyber implants overheat. Signals jam. If Dwight had a penny for every time he heard "Dwight! Don't touch anything!". Complex Form 2 (CF2) "Dunder&Mifflin" A-Grade Nano-Organs (Healing): Dwight just won't die. Believe me, his dad tried to correct that. But the experimental megacorp Nano-Organs installed when he was born truly are A-Grade. Dunder&Miflin didn't go big time for no reason! No matter how bloody the beat down, Dwight keeps coming back! Signature Complex Form (SCF) "Dunder&Mifflin" Prototype Nano-Cosmetics (Utility): A skin of nano-tech covers Dwight, shifting and moving to alter the quality and appearance of his outer flesh. Some experts have posited this prototype technology is the source of Dwight's 'Midas Virus'.   Dice Random Race: 1d6 3 Dice CN Random Roll: 1d6 3

[AnotherDragoon]

 

Dice Race:

d6

4

Dice Character number:

d6rc1,6

4 (Rerolls: rerolled 1,6)

>>Initiating handshake...>>Generating keys... Dossier Name: Legion, Daemon of the Grid Metatype: Ork Archetype: Matrix CN: 2 Gear: Savalette Guardian: Heavy pistol Hermes Ikon: Commlink Living Persona: Complex Form, Possession (Utility): Signature Complex Form; Flood a target with Resonance forcing it to perform a Matrix Action. Compile Sprite, Machine (Buff): Creates a Sprite that can interact with devices by running diagnostics or preventing malfunctions. Compile Sprite, Fault (Damage): Creates a Sprite that will target a Persona with a barrage of corrupting datastreams. Paydata Legion has a below-average build for an Ork but isn’t scrawny, by any means. He still measures just under 2 meters and weighs about 90kg. No visible enhancements or modifications mar his olive complexion; not even a datajack. He keeps his hair dyed bright colors and wears contacts to match. Known as FrankyKink on the BBS boards, he has cultivated a gregarious and friendly online presence. Except for when he’s working. Legion uses a persona in a dark suit with black smoke leaking out the cuffs and pant legs. His head is made up of the same smoke with many faces swirling throughout. From a young age, he showed great interest and aptitude in both AR and VR games. Especially the ones about Shadowrunners. He jokes around that he was raised in an arcade and, it isn’t too far from the truth. Franklin lost his mom to the Matrix Crash 2.0 in ‘64 and, in a way, his dad too. His dad never truly recovered from the loss. He did his best but, depression is a beast far uglier than any ghoul and twice as mean. So little Franky bathed in the neon glow with all the other Seattle kids who had the nuyen to spend. All he remembers about his mother is that she was an Ork, like him, and loved the Matrix. His dad said she was special, one of the few who didn’t need a deck to get in. But that was when they were young. Eventually, the ability disappeared, and she had to rely on hardware like everyone else. Franklin never told his dad, but he found out he had the same ability. He just used it for petty stuff at first, like dominating at the arcade. It’s actually what got him banned from Wireless Wizard’s Tower, the local game spot. Nobody could prove anything, but there were just too many accusations. Throughout school, he excelled but was called lazy, a slacker, or undisciplined. “If only you’d apply yourself,” was played on a loop from his teachers. It’s not that he didn’t try he just preferred to keep things easy. For Franky, that meant doing the bare minimum and letting a sprite handle the rest. After Uni, he followed the path of least resistance and became a salaryman for Wuxing Financial Services. It was a good fit he could feed the numbers to his sprite then sit back and play the newest Runner MMO or browse the Shadowlands BBS. That’s where he found out his mom was a runner named Jezebel and met a persona calling herself BlackMadonna who claimed she knew her. BlackMadonna showed him how to touch the Resonance Realms and manipulate the datasphere. She’s the one who helped him with his Complex Form. Since then, BlackMadonna became a constant in his life. There was something familiar about her, even though they never met in meatspace, that he couldn’t ever exactly place. Was it her voice? She took him to a private host where he could practice with sprites and forms and even introduced him to a few others like him. Everything was wiz for a while; until he got sloppy. On the last day of his normal life, he woke up to an encrypted message in his AR flashing with BlackMadonna’s icon. It wasn’t unusual for her to communicate that way, GOD was always watching, after all. He opened it up thinking it might be a bookmark to a new host or maybe the game where she hid files in random locations. What he found instead was the end of Franklin Kinkade. <<They’re on to you. Time to cut and burn.>> <<We’re getting you out. Things are in motion.>> <<Contact Ju1c3 with the attached commcode.>> <<Stay frosty, Franky bear. *BM*>> On to him? Who? Was this another game; or test? Franky bear. Nobody has called him that since he was a kid. He checked his other messages and there was one from his supervisor saying they were having a meeting with the regional vice-president of operations about promotion and corporate fast-track. Congratulations, Mr. Kinkade. I don’t know how but someone has seen something in you and taken an interest. Drek. They know. The next few hours flew by while he played Mr. J and organized his own extraction. He went into the office so they wouldn’t suspect anything and had the meeting with the suits. Played it max chill even when they told him he’d be flying out to Hong Kong. Today. Null sheen, Ju1c3 said, a team was inbound. So Franky let himself be ushered into a shiny limo, the executive version of a windowless black van. Halfway to SeaTac, the runners jandered onto the scene. It was all flash and beautiful chaos; in that moment, Legion realized the shadows had him. He wasn’t born just to live as a wageslave. Frankin Kinkade died that day. He joined up with the Crossing Companions and got right down to biz. There were even some like him who could touch the datasphere without a deck and feel the code of the Matrix, technomancers. His biggest brag would be the part he played in taking out the Electric Knights but the most fun was crashing that KE squad car.

[NightDreamer09]

Stat Block Name: lost in time Race: elf Street name: Yurei (幽霊) (Japanese for ghost) Enhancements: Flexibility Stillness Wall Running Known moves: Ghostly as a ghost: she can slow down her physiological processes to a point she is can become as close to an invisible spirit as a being made of flesh can be. (Adept power: Stillness) (buff) Everywhere like a ghost: she can bend and go through places other metahumans wouldn’t simply fit and walls are just another surface for her (Adept power: flexibility, wall running) (buff) (KM)

Character writeup She used to have a name, she used to be someone, now she is just Yurei, the assassin, the one runner that could get anywhere at any time to do her job, whatever it was. Her skin is pale, tight on a body that has not an ounce of fat of too much, of a body that is at the peak of performance and at the limit of living. White markings crisscross her already pale skin with a meaning only known to her. Her face doesn’t call for any friendship or warm: her eyes are like pools of darkness and her lips are thin and bloodless. There is a coldness to her aura but she is a ghost: ghost aren’t warm neither are friendly to living. She does what others wouldn’t or couldn’t do, she does what the ghosts that turn into nightmares do: hunt for the living. She has no cyber but her Adept power supplies for it, making her no less deadly. And the whip. The deadly tool that is her signature as well: silent and cutting air the same way it cuts through metal and flesh. A ghost has to have the right tool and the monofilament whip is hers. As her past had faded, her origins had as well, she is an elf, but aside from that, there really is no record on her coming to this world: she just… appeared. The same way she had just appeared, she goes from run to run, hunting for anyone and anything, be it corporate or criminal, religious or secular.

Rolls Dice Race: 1d6 3 (not used) Dice Character Number: 1d6 6 Dice Character Number: 1d6 5 Block stat word count: Character write up word count: Physical adept see here

[Bushi]

Amari Name: Amari - Blood Addict - Race: Human Character Number: 5 Archetype: Meat Adventuring Gear: Commlink Americium Modulated Afterlife Renderer v.1 [AMAR1] (Katana) Gamma Gear Suit - Runes running along the suit are used to accelerate particles, which can be released to alter matter near or on the suit. Known Moves: Neon Violet Overdrive (Attack): Particles accelerate from the GG suit, creating supersonic movement in the hands that release a brilliant aroura of light and sparkles, while allowing for a devastating swing (using the AMAR1, specifically designed to withstand the impact force.) - Signature Move Went To Get Milk 5 Years Ago (Utility): Particle acceleration is used to bend light around the GG suit, allowing the wearer to visually "disappear." Ryan Reynolds Moment (Healing): Breaking the fourth wall for a witty comment seems to almost pause time, and activates the GG suit's automatic healing procedure, jamming electrolytes into the wearer or specified nearby target.

Backstory Amari grew up in a family of assassins, never seeing a single day off. Every day was training. She was given powerful equipment and a large range of skills through her progress in the family business, all before the age of 10. 7 Years in the past, Amari committed murder. Although it was part of a job, it was still an accident. She was cursed with a raging bloodlust by her bloodline, resulting in her losing control and killing the only friend she had. Her parents never let her have friends, she was born purely to be a killing machine. Another assassin the corporations utilize for political motives. On that day, Amari was on a mission to take out an ambassador. She cut the man’s head clean off, only to realize that man’s daughter was watching- without thinking, she attacked. It was so quick, too quick to realize that kid was her friend. Her only friend. She couldn’t understand why this had to happen. All at once, everything finally hit her. Disillusioned by the system, she ran away from home. She vowed to purge herself of her desire to kill, and to surround herself with people that cared about her. But life is cruel, and she learned that all too quick. Killing was the only way she could survive, living in the underground of society. She couldn’t show herself publicly, or her family would find her. A life of crime is all she knew, and it was how her life would lead. Although at this time she would take one off jobs from randoms, she ended up receiving a call from a man named Ju1c3, regarding the crossing companion’s recruitment. She saw this as an opportunity to finally find a group to stick with, and use her skills in a way she wouldn’t be ashamed of.

[PapaHuck]

Stat Block Name: Siri Nickname: Auntie Race: Ork CN: 2 Archetype: Matrix (Decker) Adventuring Gear: Commlink Weapon: semi automatic smartgun pistol with suppressor Cyberdeck Signature Program: Subvert System (Utility) Siri wirelessly takes over a system of computer controlled devices. Known Program: Access Data (Utility) Siri uses her prodigious hacking skills to access electronically stored data. Known Program: Overclock (Buff) Siri executes a custom program to enhance the performance of allies' computer controlled devices. (The exact effect of the buff is determined by the GM.) Because this pushes the hardware beyond its normal limitations, the benefit can only be kept up for one minute. Basic Gear (no bonus dice) HUD enabled glasses with retinal scan falsifier Corporate casual outfit Credsticks Purse-and-all-it-contains Programmable ID badge Makeup, including basic disguise effects A color/texture variable wig Programmable fingerprints First aid kit

Character Write-up A Portrait of the Con-Artist as a Middle-Aged She-Ork Siri has the look and feel of that kindly older coworker you gripe to about the boss while you sneak a smoke break on the roof. She is a female ork with a greenish cast to her skin. She’s in her early thirties, but with the shorter lifespans of orks, that’s like late fifties in human terms. She has a soft, bulky form, standing 6 feet tall and weighing 220 pounds. A skilled plastic surgeon could tell she's had some expensive work done to alter her facial appearance and skin tone. She always seems to be wearing glasses (actually a very good quality heads-up display), and she goes in for corporate casual attire – although the cut of her outfit always allows for full range of motion. It’s flats every time, never heels. On and off the job, Siri is supportive and avuncular. Her drive to help runners survive and find some measure of dignity is sincere. An experienced and perceptive observer could surmise a few things about Siri. Although she’s a runner now, she clearly came from the corporate world at some point. She’s a mathematical and programming genius, and probably formally educated. Her record as a runner reveals a very sophisticated grasp of finance, military contracting, and surveillance. Languages she’s displayed fluency in include Mandarin, Russian, Arabic, and English. Putting it all together leads an experienced hand to believe she’s on the down-low, surviving in the shadows after a more privileged life became, for some reason, too dangerous to continue. Siri has been “Siri” for about nine months now. It’s neither the longest nor the briefest time she’s maintained a single main false identity, by a long shot. Nor is it, she grants, particularly original. She is definitely not the first, and certainly won’t be the last decker with a penchant for history and a sense of humor to take the handle “Siri’. In fact the “Siri” she based her current identity on was not really “Siri” either. She had been using the name for around three years when she, and all of her close companions, tragically met their end in a botched run in Singapore. That “Siri” was a small-time female Orkish decker around this “Siri’s” age. This similarity, plus the death of most of her closest friends, helped with the plausibility of Siri’s current working false identity. There is a balance to be struck when hiding from a past life in the shadows. On the one hand, keeping one identity for too long or rising to too high of a profile could catch the interest of very powerful, brutal entities that could regard your continued existence as a loose thread to be snipped. On the other hand though, you needed to maintain one identity long enough and to maintain reputation high enough to actually get jobs. Bullet in the head or starve to death in a ditch – nether good options – hence the need for balance. So it was with mixed feelings that Siri entertained the idea of courting the Crossing Companions for membership. It wasn’t her idea to start with, either. She ran in a tossed-together shadow-jaunt that included Maybe even some PCs . . . some Companions on the team. After the run, one of them encouraged her to apply to CC. She mulled it over for a few weeks. It didn’t necessarily seem worse than what she was doing at the time. When she took another job that had her working with Companions again, she took it as a sign (or maybe she was just getting tired and reckless?), and she sought out the organization to give it a whirl. Siri has reached some sort of quasi-stable equilibrium with CC leadership. Some unknown combination of discretion, informed gambling, willful ignorance, and possibly even compassion on their part appears to be resulting in a state where they tolerate the risk represented by her undisclosed past, and treat her as part of the team. Since joining, she’s maintained a carefully proctored level of reputation based on medium-profile runs. A couple hits on Federated-Boeing, a lesser-known but highly profitable data heist from Maersk Incorporated Assets, and a fraud job that turned into a full-campus shootout at Cord Mutual Insurance regional, etc. You still want to know about what she did before? You sure about that, friend? Okay, I’ll start listing off a few lower profile items in ascending order of sensitivity, and you tell me when to stop. Pacific Prosperity Group/Mita-gumi nexus. The Tasmanian Nuclear Incident. Horizon Amazonia Contract. Okay. Had enough? Smart.

[rhaiber]

 

Dice Rolling for Race:

1d4+1

(2)+1

Total = 3

Dice Rolling for CN:

1d4+1

(3)+1

Total = 4

Statblock ---Basics--- Normie Name: Aubrey Daniels Street Name: Tw1tch - The Bad-ass Broomer Babe of Brooklyn Race: Human … well, at least mostly. I know for sure my mom was a humie; never met my dad. Mom didn’t exactly srick a tracer on every sperm-donor she hooked up with, she was way too arctic for that. I guess there’s a chance I could be part halfer, maybe even part dandelion-eater. Who knows? CN: 3 ---Adventuring Gear--- Commlink: LookinGlass 13XS - Okay, it may not be the flashiest new model, but the 13 still has amazing sound quality for tunes. Better than anything LookinGlass has put out since … well not including the new 17XTC obvs, but who’s got the creds for that? Not any runner working for the Crossing Companions, I’ll tell ya. Maybe in a year or two when the price drops, I’ll upgrade to onea those. Weapon: Salem Featherweight 2100 Sniper Rifle - So she ain’t exactly punchin’ through tanks like some other boomsticks, but this beauty will take the wings off a pixie from a click away, lettin’ me stay high an’ dry. ---Archetype--- Tecnowitch (Rigger-style technomancer) Complex Forms Hecate Davidson® 2056 Thundertwig™ (Utility) - [Signature Form] Not just one of those basic-B models you can sweep off the showroom floor. My baby’s a classic and I have modded the hex outta her. Ain’t no faster street-broom around. NanoHex Gremlins (DeBuff) - When ya get a buncha them together, they might look like a puff of purple smoke, but individually these little buggers are nearly invisible to the naked eye. Don’t let their size fool ya though. They’ll cloud your perceptions and mess with your fine motor-control like nobody’s business. PheonixDownPharma SampleSythSpenser (Buff) - Snagged this sucker on a corporate raid of PDP. Would you believe those fraggin’ fatcats came up with the tech to instantly synthesize most of their juice at almost no cost, but they only use it to give a handful of samples to docs, then they charge us poor squatters an arm and a leg to fill our scrips. Hey, I got one for ya: What’s the difference between a pharma rep and a street dealer? … A big corp backin’ ya and a bazillion nuyen in yer pockets. … Yeah, I know it’s not funny. It’s not a joke, dumbass. Anyway, these things are supposeta be biometrically encoded to only respond to PDP reps, but lucky for me, I gotta way of sweet-talkin’ tech.

Character Write-Up Appearance: Tw1tch is a young human girl, who appears to be in her early-to-mid-teens. She is relatively short of stature, clocking in at somewhere around 150cm, though it’s difficult to make an accurate estimate since she seems to be in a perpetual state of restless energy and is constantly bouncing on her toes. She has a small frame, bordering on waifish, and slender limbs that sometimes give the impression she is fragile and delicate. This is an impression she does everything in her power to counteract. She keeps her dark hair in a somewhat messy, shoulder-length bob that frames her round face. There are some undertones of crimson and deep purple in places leftover from when she streaked her hair on a whim, but the overall effect is somewhat haphazard, making it apparent that she can’t totally decide what to do with her hair and has opted for something functional and low maintenance. Tw1tch can typically be found wearing knee-high riding boots over layers of tights, fitted leggings and stockings - enough layers to provide some form of protection while allowing for free range of motion and mobility. She cycles through an array of T-shirts, generally displaying either her favorite bands or vintage pop-culture references. While the shirts may circulate, they always come under the same denim and leather moto jacket, decorated with a variety of pins and patches and with the name of her mother’s old broomer gang - The Wyrd Sisters - emblazoned across the back. Personality: Tw1tch is a free-spirited and rebellious youth, largely as a result of being forced to grow up before her time and shoulder the responsibility of caring for her ailing mother. She absolutely loves and idolizes her mother though, so she holds no enmity toward the woman for reversing the roles of caretaker and dependent. Instead Tw1tch has chosen to direct her resentment at the loss of her carefree childhood toward the system that beat her mother down. She considers herself an anarchist and takes pleasure in anything she can do to cause mischief for the corporations and the authorities. She is rebellious by nature and has a tendency to balk at any form of authority, though her anarchism is the naive sort that lacks any idea of what might ultimately replace the existing systems of authority. Tearing down is her only goal without any consideration toward rebuilding. The only times that Tw1tch can escape her troubles and feel free are those when she is flying, the higher and the faster the better. This makes her something of a thrill-seeker and an adrenaline junky. Backstory: Right, so I figure any story about how I got to be who I am today really oughta start with my mom. Maybe you know her? She went by the name “Kismet” and she was, like, the original bad-ass broomer mamma. She really tore spit up bak in her day. But, like, she was also a great mom. When she realized I was coming, she took a step back from her crew, got a straight job down at the mana refinery, put food on the table and clothes on our backs and all that drek. She taught me everythin’ I know: ‘bout brooms, ‘n’ ridin’, ‘n’ talkin’ to tech. Everythin’ really. Course, everythin’ got hosed after the accident at the refinery fragged her back. Turns out Aeon Energy had drek for safety protocols, ‘n’ their healthcare wasn’t much better. Company doc put her on Arcanadone. Said it was “non-addictive.” They wer talkin’ out their hoop if ya ask me. Everytime she came down, the pain got worse than it was before. Then they jacked the price of her scrips and yanked her insurance. Tried to fight it, but they just painted her to be some kinda junkie, like it wasn’t them that caused the whole mess t’begin with. When the docs stopped writin’ her scrips, mom turned to street drek like Crimson Orchid. Got to where mom was spendin’ half her time in a fog, just tryna escape the pain. But I know that parta her’s still in there, so that’s why I gotta look out for her, best I can.’ Crossing Companions: If you ask Tw1tch why she joined, she will deflect with the easy answer that maintaining a sick broom takes creds, and a girl’s gotta get those somewhere, right? She puts up a tough, carefree front and doesn’t like wearing her pain on her sleeve, so it takes a lot to break through that exterior to discover that she only spends a small portion of the creds she earns on herself. The rest go toward caring for her ailing mother. Tw1tch currently has the woman set up in the best rehab facility she can afford, but knows that her kind of addiction has no real cure, and relapse can rear its head any time. Since joining the Companions, she has tended to favor corporate raids for her missions. She takes a particular pleasure in targeting pharmaceutical corporations, though she also enjoys making mischief for any company that abuses or neglects the welfare of its employees.

[Ysolde]

Dice Roll:

1d6

5

Race

Dice Roll:

1d6

2

Character Number (CN)

Stat Block Name: Yrdun Aeglief Race: Troll Character Number (CN): 2 Spell Focus: +1dThe Threefold Staff Known Spells Idun's Apples (Healing): Conjures a slice of apple that heals the person who eats it. (+1d) Frigg's Foresight (Buff): Gives a brief glimpse into the future aiding your next action (+1d) Skadi's Arrow (Damage): An arrow or pure magic flies at the target. (+2d)

Character Writeup Yrdun is nearing her mid-thirties but looks somewhat younger. This troll defies some portion of the standard image of a troll. She is tall with flowing red hair and blue skin. Her horns never grew that large and she islender and lithe in a gracile way. The portion of her which shows her to be a troll are her long sharp bottom teeth, her vivid white tribal tattoos, and the furs adorned with various animal fetishes. She is approachable and kind with a deep sadness in her eyes. She often treats others as if they are her children if they are younger or as siblings if they are near in age. Because of her attitude some people in the Crossing Companions call her Troll Mom. Yrdun was born small, her family was poor, and without any access to modern medicine it seemed as if she might perish. Yrdun’s mother, Brethwidda, prayed to the gods and her prayers were answered. Yrdun lived and in living the child was touched by the ancient seidr magic. From a young age Yrdun showed that she was blessed with the siedr magic by being able to make things move, predict bits of the future, and hurl magical bolts with her mind. She became enough of a litte terror that, when she was a barely over the age of five, Yrdun was trained in the ways of the völva which is also known, to some, as witchcraft. Once fully trained and in her teen years she became a wandering witch, visiting various Troll communities and helping with her magic. It was a low paying career but one that she truly enjoyed. It was in her journeys between the tribes that Yrdun met a strong Troll woman and the two were married in a tribal ceremony honoring the ancient gods and nature spirits. Yrdun continued to travel and help troll communities while her wife worked security. The two women adopted children that had been orphaned and it would almost seem to have been an idyllic existence, even if sometimes money was short, but it was one that was fated to fall apart. Yrdun's wife got addicted to one of the new street drugs, began stealing money, started selling her body. She ended up joining the same gang that got her addicted to the drug and arguments between the two women started. These arguments only increased as Yrdun’s wife lost her job and got more involved in street crime with the word 'divorce' getting thrown about here and there. Yrdun had to cut her wife off and was planning to leave but that was not to be. Yrdun’s wife and her gang came home one night planning to raid the couple’s house for everything of value and things became very violent. When it was all over there were numerous dead bodies and only Yrdun and her children were alive with Yrdun as the primary suspect in murder. She had to give her children to her parents care for. Then she went and ensured that the rest of the gang was destroyed and so, to earn money, she started to run the shadows. Now, if you need a witch, Yrdun is the one you come to. Yrdun was lucky, one of the members of The Crossing Companions was there when she went for her vengeance and offered her a place in their group when it was first starting out. Back then it was less stable, but the people were all decent at heart or at least as decent as could be in the shadows. Over time though the companions became a family, they became people who you knew would always have your back, in a world where any run might end up with someone stabbing you in the back the companions were people who didn’t, and woe betide anyone who tried. Even if the group was staring out again today Yrdun would surely join. She can send money to her children, take care of people, and, she thinks, do a good deed one where she gets to hurt the people who need to be hurt. Yrdun's exploits are well known among The Crossing Companions. When dealing with the Swamp Lagoon case Yrdun's healing was the only thing that kept her group alive against what can only be described as a Kaiju Alligator. In the Takahitsu Case Yrdun's foresight was able to help the team through a surprise ambush by the Takahitsu Samurai. Yrdun is often seen around the Crossing Companions home taking care of people wounded in their runs and making sure everyone has a place to sleep or a meal to eat. The biggest and most retold tale about Yrdun is the time she supposedly took out a tank with her arrow spell and there are a whole lot of people in the guild who will swear that they were there when it happened even though if all of them were telling the truth nearly fifty people would have been on that run.

[ClamLord]

Statblock Name: Topper the Lost Janitor Race: Dwarf Character Number: 5 Archetype: Meat Gear: Commlink, Sharpened Mop Handle Enhancements Whimdex: (Debuff) (Signature) Attached to a belt is a bottle of blue liquid glass cleaner of unspecified branding. Disrupt and disorient when sprayed at an enemy, machine, or device. Phibreeze: (Buff) A canister of liquid that releases a sweet smelling scent. Fills whoever it's sprayed on with determination; grants a bonus roll to future action. Ring of Keys: (Utility) There's a lot of keys on here; one of 'em is bound to work. Can get through most mechanical locks.

Character Write-Up Description: Topper is a standard-sized dwarf with a large scruffy beard, no hair on his head, and slightly more fat than muscle. He gets his nickname from his coworkers as he always seems to "top their stories" with his own, though, never to be braggadocios. He simply just wants to tell interesting stories and anecdotes that come to mind. The other reason they call him Topper is because he's always "on top of things." Never once was he caught lacking or behind on any assignment given. He works hard at everything he does and makes it clears where his interests lie. If you have Topper on your side, you have a good friend with you, as well. Backstory: In a world unlike our very own, where fantasy characters live their lives alongside ours, Topper is a middle-aged dwarf with a simple life ambition. Living. Ever since he was young, living in the trailer his parents raised him, he always made it his goal to do everything he could to his fullest potential. Sometimes the potential for a certain thing was low, but the dedication was always higher than that of the most talented folks. Sadly, when he finished school his parents were unable to send him to college or trade school as it was too costly. The students loans would've been too much for Topper and his parents to handle, so Topper decided the best course of action was to get some sort of job in order to begin his actual life. Topper got a job as a custodian for a Patty Queen location near his parents' home. Working as a janitor for a fast-food franchise wasn't anything to brag about, but he began to spend his time training in martial arts and staff-sparring. Topper figured that it was the best way to stay in shape while giving him the drive to strive. After several years of training, he became a black belt and started teaching students of his own and it became a new job for him to strive in. Topper still held on to the janitorial job and always finished cleaning the building before midnight. One day as he was finishing up his final chores, he noticed, what he assumed, was a pair of glowing white eyes staring at him from behind the dumpster. He determined it was a raccoon and ran towards the eyes with his mop handle in an attempt to scare the rodent away. However, no raccoon jumped from behind the dumpster. He banged on the metal hoping that would scare it off, but the mop head broke off leaving Topper with a pointy stick and one thing left to do. He pulled the dumpster back, praying he wouldn't be bitten and contract a horrid disease, and then everything went dark. Topper found himself in an empty street with scarce lighting, light fog, and a faint but foul smell. He stood up and looked around. A group of shadowy figures stared at him like they were waiting for his next move. Suddenly one of them grabbed onto his shoulder from behind him. Topper went to flip the figure in self defense but realized the arm was not normal. It was completely metal! Topper didn't know where he was, but he definitely knew he wasn't in Kansas anymore. Reason for Joining: Topper joined the Crossing Companions because they approached him. They noticed his fight with the minor gang in the street and realized very quickly that this mysterious stranger had a set of skills that could utilized. When Topper understood that his potential was needed, he felt that this was a life he could get used to. The money wasn't bad either, but he had a feeling he could be more than a custodian here. Maybe even his janitorial knowledge could prove useful, but only time could tell.

OOC Going to make a character out of this. Hope I get something good. Dice Character Number: 1d4+1 (4)+1 Total = 5 Dice Race: 1d6 3

[Treble83]

Stat Block Mena "Little Glitch" Becker Metatype Dice Roll: 1d6 6 (6) Gnome CN Dice Roll: 1d6 2 (2) Favors mental attributes Archetype Technomancer (Decker) Living Persona Glitch's token in the matrix resembles a red rose.Brain Personal Firearm Yamaha Pulsar Gear Basic Adventuring Gear Known Move (Utility) Reaching into the matrix, Glitch attempts to sever another user's connection forcibly.Der Stiefel Known Move (Debuff) Glitch manipulates the targeting software in smart-linked weapons. Effectively causing an accuracy penalty.Misfire Known Move (Utility) A collection of disruptive code intended to disrupt surveillance devices in the immediate area.Löschen

Character Write-up Appearence: Glitch stands at a modest 2'6" (about 80 cm) and weighs around 64 lbs (29 KG). If not for the tattoos covering most of her body, she could easily be mistaken for a child. European punk rockers have heavily inspired her look. From her bob-cut hair (with one side shaved and the rest colored in streaks of red and white) to her rose tattoos. As for apparel, she likes to mix flashy jewelry (shiny earrings and spiked color) and subdued leathers. Among dwarves and fellow dwarven metavariants, she's often considered to be "hot." However, among most other metatypes, she's generally passed off as a "cute little girl from the streets." Backstory: As if dwarves weren't already a minority in Seattle, Mena was fortunate (or unfortunate?) enough to be born a gnome. Despite her friendly and outgoing nature, she was never really accepted by her Dwarven counterparts. However, she had far less trouble with other meta's. Humans, Elves, Orcs, and even some Trolls were all extremely receptive to her particular brand of quirky. In fact, one of her best chummers back in Redmond was an orc by the name of Aleksandr. Together, the two were unstoppable. Aleksandr was the muscle and Mena was the brains. By the time Mena was 15, and Aleksandr was 17, the two were committing petty crimes like it was their day job. It wasn't easy avoiding law enforcement, corporate security, and the gangs but the duo were little more than a nuisance for any of the above and were therefore generally ignored. Their niche was in burglary with a broad scope of whatever targets presented themselves. B&E was Aleksandr's specialty which left any electronic surveillance up to Mena to handle. It was actually Aleksandr who first started calling Mena "Little Glitch." He recognized her natural attunement to technology and the way that she could cause them to "glitch" with nothing more than a thought. Eventually, Glitch and Aleksandr started to draw in other young thugs looking to make quick and easy money. First, they gained the services of a rigger that went by the call sign "Spider." He was a human from the neighborhood that had gotten his hands on an DroneAztechnology Crawler and he'd gotten quite adept at driving the little thing. The final piece to their little wanna' be gang was another human by the name of Claire. She wasn't really anything special but she had nerves of steel and a Common shotgunDefiance T-250. Together, they became bolder and bolder (taking on bigger and riskier jobs). They even gave themselves a name, the "Redmond Rats." Unfortunately, the Redmond Rats weren't quite as easily ignored as a couple of young punks doing the odd job here and there. After jacking a shipment of C4 plastic explosives from the Red Hot Nukes, they were officially "on the map." The Rats were still trying to figure out the best way to offload their ill-begotten gains when their little hideout was ambushed by the very gang that they had stolen from. Claire was the first to go down but not before pumping off a couple of shots into the lead nuker. Aleksandr's quick reflexes allowed the big orc to flip over a heavy table in front of himself and Glitch. From their fortification, the two were able to put up a solid defense but they were outnumbered and they knew it was only a matter of time. Suddenly, Spider's absence was making a lot more sense.... The little weasel got scared and sold us out! Leaning in next to Glitch, Aleksandr whispered. "We're fragged halfer! Get out of here and geek that scrawny little breeder!" His eyes shifted over to an air duct on the wall behind them. "Go! I'll buy you time." Glitch wanted to fight him but she knew there was no point. Once his mind was made up, there was no changing it. Shortly after scurrying out of the building, she was thrown by an explosion. She didn't know if Aleksandr decided to blow the C4 or if it was the Nuke's but the end result was the same. For the first time in her young life, Glitch felt completely alone. She couldn't allow herself to become just another cog in the corporate machine and she had no interest in joining a gang. With no other real options, she started frequenting known fixer bars and offering her services as a shadowrunner. Experience with the Crossing Companions: Thankfully, it wasn't very long before Glitch started getting put to work. Generally, thanks to her skill-set, she was assigned to corporate sabotage jobs. She and a small team would be dispatched to disrupt operations at some up-and-coming Single A Corpo manufacturing plant. Once inside, it was Glitch's job to keep the surveillance off of their group and eventually disrupt their manufacturing software. Eventually, Glitch was able to make a name for herself as a reliable runner. Granted she wasn't the most effective person to have in a firefight but, if she did her job right, then it wouldn't come to that. Once she was established, Glitch started pushing for membership into the Crossing Companions. It was one thing to be a well-known freelancer but being a part of a team as established as the Companions could raise her to a whole other level. After some pressing and a bit of groveling, she finally had an in. Sparks, a local fixer, did a lot of business with the companions and had managed to sell them on bringing Glitch in on a trial basis. As soon as she started working with the Companions, Glitch stayed busier than she ever had. Now, with Boss Lady's son disappearing, things were only getting more interesting...

[Sprite]

Door of Bel-Red Stat Block Handle: Door Metatype: Human CN: 2 (chosen, not rolled) Name: Mirabel Hawkins Archetype: Technomancer/Decker Complex Forms: "Portal" (Utility – signature skill): This complex form finds hidden pathways in the Matrix and opens or closes them, including through firewalls and between hosts. (In the Matrix only, not teleportation in the real world.) The sprite's icon is a winged black cat that Door has named the Marquis de Carabas. "Puppet Threads" (Utility): This complex form takes control of devices connected to the Matrix. The sprite's icon is a rabbit wearing a porcelain mask that Door has named Mistral. "Murmuration" (Damage): This complex form swarms and attacks personas and device icons in the Matrix. The sprite's icon is a churning pixilated black bird that crumbles into a mass of tiny starling icons. Door calls it the Myriad. Gear: Commlink: Door wears it to blend in. Sometimes she even uses it. Weapon: Ruger Da-Jiang Warhawk. A revolver with smartgun functionality including remote control via smartlink, and a laser range finder with camera that provides a feedback circuit relating the gun's angle of fire to Door's line of sight Character Writeup Physical appearance: Door is small for an adult human. At age twenty-two she is barely five feet tall, slim and compact, with brown eyes and short straight hair dyed blue - her only physical enhancement. She prefers to remain unremarkable and unnoticed, but janders with intentional confidence - she knows better than to allow others to perceive her as prey. In the Matrix Door's living persona is similar to her real self, except that she appears taller, bigger, stronger, and orcish to a greater or lesser extent, depending on her emotional state. Personality: Cautiously friendly, Door is slow to trust strangers, but if a new person is vetted by someone she trusts, that is good enough for her until proven otherwise. Door does not indulge in drinking alcohol, and especially avoids mind-altering substances of all kinds... except caffeine. She does enjoy a daily cup of soykaf. Door loves stories in all forms, and much of her intuitive understanding of the Matrix and Resonance has been shaped by the stories she has consumed, particularly stories involving doors. She usually feels the need to be in control of her situation - a consequence of growing up with an addict. She's working on it. Backstory: Mirabel Hawkins (aka Door) was born in Bellevue. Her father was a member of the Lake Acids go-gang and was killed when Centurion Security troops wiped most of them out. Her mother Katrina Hawkins was a dataslave at the time, and after her husband died she began taking various BADs and became addicted. During one of Katrina's first binges, she took Mirabel with her to downtown Seattle and left her young child outside a club. Mirabel wandered the downtown streets until she found the Seattle Public Library, but her SIN lacked the credentials to get her inside. Exhausted and terrified, Mirabel hid by a dumpster next to the library building, hoping the stench would repel any interest in a child huddled in shadow. Her attempts to message her mother on her old commlink went unanswered. Access to the library's host by way of the gemstone green local grid was blocked. Mirabel never really understood how she entered the Matrix via Resonance that first time. She remembers wanting, desperately, to get inside the library. She recalls wishing she could read a book – any book – to take her mind off the danger she was in and to help her stay awake. She knows she'd given up on getting through to her mother and took off her commlink in frustration. Then, somehow, she was in the Seattle Public Library host. Without a commlink. And the Matrix was so much more. As bright and intense as the real world, including the sensations of touch, taste, and smell. And best of all, access to books. She read the Catwings series by Ursula Le Guin, and started a series by C.S. Lewis about Narnian adventures that begin with magic doors. By the time the city's neon lights began to fade and the overcast skies of Seattle lightened, she had hacked into her mother's messages and found her urgent calls for help unopened. But she also found messages from Zachary and Dorian Drew, an orc couple who were friends of her father's, offering to help anytime. Dorian responded to Mirabel's message immediately and arrived within the hour to collect her. Dorian, Zachary, and their three adopted children became Door's second family, her safe haven. It was Zachary, a skilled decker himself, who recognized her technomancy, and not only helped her learn to hide it, but guided her discovery of technomancer skills. Door is close to, and protective of her orc siblings - Simon (eighteen), and twins Jane and Barnabas (sixteen) - and would do anything for them. Door loves her mother, but their relationship is fraught with mistrust and betrayal. Though Katrina is currently sober, Door constantly worries her mother will relapse. History with the Crossing Companions: Vigilantes, terrorists, and criminals. That's what GOD and the megacorporations called shadowrunners… and technomancers. The world was fragged and the Crossing Companions were looking to make it a little better. Not that better was ever clear or widely agreed upon. Door had jumped at the chance to join when Jake offered, and never regretted her choice. Door's role in the Crossing Companions operation has so far been mainly support, especially runs where undetected Matrix infiltration is essential. Despite her limited meat-space skills, she took a more front-line role in the run that took down an operation supplying BADs to people in the local barrens.

[Lashiec]

Stat Block Name: Bim Smith — "Grinder" Archetype: Meat Race: Exotic: Hanuman Dice Random Race: d6 6 Character Number: 4 Dice Random CN: d6rc1,6 4 (Rerolls: rerolled 1,6) Adventuring Gear: Commlink Plasma Knuckles: Brass-knuckle style weapons souped-up with impact-magnifying pulsers Fortified Tail: An implant in Grinder's tail that serves as a clubbing instrument when deactivated. When activated, it can emit electric shocks through touch to subdue enemies until contact is broken. Known Moves: Barracuda Strike (Damage): A sudden swing of Grinder's tail strikes an opponent in a hopefully compromising area. Pummel (Damage): A wild flurry of punches meant to overwhelm and maximize damage. Signature Known Move: Organ Grinder (Debuff): Grinder wraps his tail around an enemy's throat and electrifies it, rendering the enemy stunned. While the enemy is held in place, Grinder punches away.

Character Write-Up Bim "Grinder" Smith joined The Crossing Companions because he had nowhere else to go. That, and joining his saviors to repay them for freeing him just made sense to Grinder. His body and mind were irrevocably altered by the corporate weapons testing he underwent without his consent. Grinder had not the faintest clue of his age, as he didn't know how long he spent in the cages of the corporate facilities. He had seen others like him on the streets since then — monkey-like tails bulging from their behinds as they tried to assimilate themselves into a world that had not accepted them. Their body had better coats of fur, Grinder gave them that. His was pockmarked with scars, burned away in some spots, and simply not growing in others. He let his tail bounce behind him as he roamed the city. He was done putting on airs for the city that had left him enhancement-experimented on and weapon-tested. Grinder had found a balance between his anger and acceptance within the ranks of The Crossing Companions that busted him out of the testing facility. He had even begun to tell jokes — at least, what he thought were jokes. However, the Hanuman was never able to completely let himself integrate with the crew. He never grew a taste for the drinks they shared after successful jobs, though he did pick up a habit for the long, thin cigars vendors hawked on the streets outside the Waltzing Witch 2.0. The cigars looked especially dangerous resting on the plasma knuckles he either never took off or was unable to take off. If he had to be social, he was mostly unable to do anything but talk shop. Grinder simply had not had any experiences to share that didn't end up with the other party grimacing or needlessly apologizing. However, though his path tried to lead him down a bitter path, Grinder maintained a stoic, shamanic atmosphere when he wasn't on the job. But when he was put on jobs, it was a different story. The unbridled fury and fangs that were unleashed on enemies of The Crossing Companions contrasted greatly against Grinder's usual easy-going demeanor, often surprising new members who had only experienced the more forgiving half of Grinder. Those on the other end of his plasma knuckles and electrified tail would likely never get to know the pleasant side of Grinder, nor anyone else once the Hanuman was done with them.