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  #1  
Old Aug 1st, 2022, 08:22 PM
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Fu's Bar

Outplay 2022
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The companions settle into a section of tables and booths by the back wall, holding their collective breaths until the advance team can risk checking in. They each look around the room, noticing the place is far from empty, and despite saying it was a private party, the proprietor has done nothing to bar the door.

"The name's Fu, by the way." The bartender says as he runs Ju1ce's accounts with a whistle. "Good news, everyone. Drinks are on him tonight!" Some of the patrons cheer. The decker is too lost in thought to register how financially ruinous this night is about to become.



OODMWelcome to our triannual OOC roleplaying space. Just because you didn't have the time for daily posts or didn't make it to the next round doesn't mean you still can't have a little fun!

Post as much or as little as you like! Roll if you want or don't, as long as everyone is having a good time.

BTW, as this is an OOC space, feel free to come and go from anywhere you'd like with whatever you'd like! Oh, you were at the bar when the companions came in? Say hi! Oh, your D&D character was in the John the whole time? What a coincidence! Your CoC investigator is chasing down a hot lead? The more the merrier!

I can't promise how often I'll be able to update this, but who knows, maybe you'll make your own plot, or perhaps even the judges or the big man himself will pop by for a laugh.

Have fun everyone!!!
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Old Aug 2nd, 2022, 06:31 PM
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Smiling Jack
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---Somewhere In The Desert---

da du da. da da. da du da. da da.
da du da. da da. da du da. da da.

Somewhere along the desert roads, music plays. Loud. Some would say loud enough to cover up the sound of an engine but that wouldn't be fair. The engine in question this time was entirely solar powered; solar engines tended to be quiet. The driver of the vehicle is also singing, loudly, but not well.

Louie Louie, Oh no. Me gotta go.
Louie Louie, Oh no. Me gotta go.

A bus breaks through a dune- a shortcut if you believe the driver. Hell, you have to take the driver's word on it that its a bus. The armor on the bus is so intensive it looks almost like an APC or a tank. The windows are dark and tinted to the point someone outside couldn't see what's going in inside- which is probably for the best.

Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said. Louie Louie, oh baby. Me gotta go.

Aye-yi-yi-yi, I said. Louie Louie, oh baby. Me gotta go.


The inside of the bus is even more dramatically altered. At least half of the seats were ripped completely out. Some where replaced by work benches or storage lockers, others just so that the remaining seats had more room. And he liked it- he had space!

Fine little girl waits for me, Catch a ship across the sea.

Fine little girl waits for me, Catch a ship across the sea.


The driver himself was obviously an Ork- the green skin and the tusks give it away. The rest however. . .

It's hard to tell what was more disturbing at the moment. The fact that he had scars all over his body, hardly any area in his body was spared, or that he thought manually driving a bus while singing "Louie Louie" at the top of his lungs, naked, was a good idea. Yes, this is the infamous Smiling Jack. Called that because among the horrific scars that cover his body is what looks like half of a Glasgow Smile. Right now though, he actually does seem to be having a good time.

Sail that ship about, all alone. Never know if I make it home.


Sail that ship about, all alone. Never know if I make it home.


He had a dream last night. A Vision, he was pretty sure. Granted the actual dream was that he was standing on standing on a JrikJrik in Cara Fahd dressed as a sun god while dozens of beautiful ork women threw sliced pickles at him- but dream-visions are rarely meant to be interpretted Literially. Either way, he had a few ideas on how to go forward.

---Fu's Bar---

Smiling Jack enters the bar wearing what seems to be a combination of animal skins and body armor. The skins look like he wandered in from a Neo-Primitive Commune - the Body Armor looks like he stole it off the corpse of a Corpo Security squad. He might have.

"Skraacha, Fu!" he calls out from the door, actually smiling and he goes to the bar to take a seat.
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Old Aug 2nd, 2022, 11:03 PM
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Imp
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The hydraulics of the doors kicked into gear as commuters got on and off of the train, which had simultaneously cast away and emerged from the darkness within the tunnel of its original direction. The majority of people getting on and off the train were dressed in street fashion, though one or two minor suits dodged in and out between the doors and the people attempting to board, doing their absolute best to avoid letting their fancy wage-slave four-digit suit from merely brushing too close to any of the streetdrek they passed by.

One such suit found himself shoved to the floor as the streetdrek flowed past and around him with one particularly loud and vibrant thug having pushed him over when they collided. "Rak off, roller, just 'cause we slabside doesn't mean I won't go and whiteline you." shouted the rose-haired woman, flicking her hand up and away from herself as stepped backward away from the suit and stepped on to the train, her tail trailing behind her with a circular flourish and flicking as it caught up behind her. "Septs, I swear. Bloody fools the lot of'em." she muttered to herself, the rose-red hair gradually dotting with blots of lemonade yellow, which spread out across her hair like ink to water. The doors closed and the woman was left standing there, hand raised gripping the hand-rail and tail gently swaying in the motion of the train. The three chestnut eyes of the boisterous woman glanced around the traincart at her fellow commuters, the two eyes that were supposed to be there were looking through a pair of circular dark-blue lensed spectacles, the third eye on her forehead glanced in tandem with the other two.

There were the usual commuters, a handful of street kids she knew from the area, one or two teens and adults she had the pleasure of dealing with, but for the most part, it was the usual routine: The polite ones tried not to stare or ask questions and the rude ones didn't even try to hide th- Imp's hair bloomed with a sudden surge of powder blue which quickly found itself being overrun by a just-as-sudden tidal wave of garnet, the horned woman turning around with a snarl at the Orc behind her, who had just touched her tail. "Touch that again and I'll wraith you, I'll have this whole train network open - worse than orbital." she hissed, her tail yanking out and away from the man's hand, Imp's right hand opening up her dark blue haori to show off the handle of her holstered Cavalier Deputy. Garnet red blotted and retreated as Imp's hair changed back to a powder blue, the colour of which the orchid-skinned woman's hair remained for the duration of her underground commute, tail wrapped tightly around one leg.

The train finally came to a halt at Imp's desired location, stepping onto the platform and making her way through the crowd, eyes meeting with whoever had the courage - or stupidity - to make eye contact. The light of the street lights above bathed Imp in their artificial glow, her thumbs hooked into the waist of her dark blue loose shorts - which she already had to wear low due to her having an actual tailbone. Imp's converse shoes matched the colour of her shorts, which were chosen to specifically look good against the hem of her haori, which was a mix of pastal pinks, blues and cyans in a floral arrangement at the base, the pattern create the scene of a large white deer beneath a dark blue, star-filled night sky which was centered in the back with a crescent moon. Underneath the elaborate haori was a black fishnet crop top above a black and dark blue sports bra, an appropriately relaxed outfit for the eve.


Imp stopped just outside Fu's Bar, looking up at the building with a rather unimpressed expression on her face, her tied-back hair shifting from the light yellow it had become during her walk over to a mint green, which only grew darker into a fern green when she heard Fu shouting.
"Good news, everyone. Drinks are on him, tonight!" which was followed by the only reasonable response from a civilized group: Cheering. Imp made her way inside, thumbs still hooked into the waist of her shorts.
"This place is gopping as ever." Imp said to herself, glancing over at the gathered Companions and shrugging them off with crepe pink hair. The horned woman then turned her attention to the barkeep and rested an elbow on the countertop. "So let me get this straight, Fu, the first time I walk in here I get some oppos pixie and her hilda telling me they don't come here to see a freak show... And then you let these guys in? I don't have to pay a fee for the entertainment tonight, do I?" she asked with a grin, rapping her fingers against the countertop and letting her tail relax. Crepe pink hair shifting to daffodil yellow "I'm sure you remember my usual scoob? We aren't exactly sate, but my Nuyen is still terminal here, right?"


OOCDid I bring my changeling in here just to irk Imveros? Maybe.
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Old Aug 6th, 2022, 12:00 PM
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Tw1tcH: The Badd-ass Broomer Babe of Brooklyn
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Tw1tcH might have been a bit offended that Ju1ce had overlooked her when assigning roles to the infiltration team … that is, if she’d been suicidal. Seriously, going toe-to-toe with a literal boatload fulla copro HTR jackboots? That was not her scene. The technowitch was a getaway driver, like she’d said from the start of this whole fragged-up mission: it was her job to get runners in an’ outta places, real fast-like. What happened in between was upta them to figure out.

And so it was that after the teen witch dropped her chummers off dockside and saw them safely into the confines of the shipping container that –

Okay, hang on. There was another good reason she wasn’t goin’ along on this suicide mission. Fer ghost’s sake, who in their right mind would willingly lock themselves up inside a fraggin’ shipping container?!? Of course Tw1tcH would never admit it to anyone, but creeped her out even more than holing up inside Ju1ce’s ****** crashpad fer that freaky-ass matrix dive. A girl needed space, after all. She needed fresh air, room to move, freedom. Even the matrix, awful as it was, gave the illusion of freedom, but physically tight, confined spaces? It wasn’t that she was claustrophobic. Who said that? She wasn’t scared of nuthin’! But someone had to be on the outside, right? Someone had to be standin’ by, ready to sweep in an’ get the sorry butts outta there come extraction time. Tw1tcH was doin’ her part, an’ it was a fraggin’ important part of the mission, ya hear? Jus’ happened to be a part that didn’t involve actively tryin’ to get herself iced.

And so it was that after dropping the other off, Tw1tcH found herself heading back to the predetermined rendezvous point to wait for further instructions. With the Waltzing Witch 2.0 currently in a state of bein’ totally fragged from their earlier shenanigans, that left only one logical alternative: Fu’s.


A thunderous roar rumbled in from outside of Fu’s - not unlike the one that announced a certain teen witch’s arrival at the Waltzing Witch earlier that day (it was still the same day, right? Frag it all, she still had no idea how much time she had spent meshed up in Ju1ce’s hidey hole. Chalk that up as another reason why she hated the fraggin’ matrix. Time should just be time for drek’s sake!). It was probably possible for her to make less noise as she entered. After all, there was no real reason why a mana-driven engine shouldn’t be whisper-quiet; but, I mean, where was the fun in that?

The rolling thunder settled into a burbling grumble as she pulled up to the curb and brought the Hecate Davidson® to idle, before cutting the engine altogether. The ensuing silence left in its wake made even the slightest sound stand out like … like Dwight in a room full of moderately sane people.

The doors opened and the twiggy teen witch entered, pushing the flight goggles back on her head as she scanned the room, taking in more than a few familiar places. Ju1ce she expected to be here - this was their expected rendezvous point - but Tw1tcH was a little surprised at the sight of Smiling Jack, Imp, and several other members of the Crossing Companions.

”Great.” she muttered ”An’ where was all youse guys back when we was gettin’ our hoops handed to us?”
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Old Aug 6th, 2022, 07:32 PM
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Smiling Jack
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"Skraacha, Tw1tcH!" he calls loudly, holding up his own drink and slamming it back. Some of it dribbles out of the side of his mouth, he tries to mop it up with a napkin. Mixed Success. Normally he has to tilt his head for that and sometimes he forgets until the shoulder is wet.

She asks where he's been, and he chuckles a bit. Chuckles a bit and reaches under his ****, pulling at his chest body armor. Some fumbling, some ripping, and he reaches a goal.

A *used* plate of ceramic body armor platting is put on the bar, and he chuckles. He picks out the bullet, bites it to test the metal, and pockets it.

"The Desert to the East. I did not find Cara Fahd. Found a few other things though." he gives with a grin and a giggle before he takes a breath and stops, controlling himself.

"How's the Job going?" he asks, pretty innocently actually.
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Old Aug 9th, 2022, 01:57 PM
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Auntie Siri
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<<Hey>>
<<It's Siri>>
<<Really messed up>>
<<Probably shouldn't even be messaging>>
<<Inna hospital>>
<<Say I was in a bad car wreck>>
<<Nobody else from the limo is here>>
<<Are Troll Mama, Amari, and "Ghost" ok?>>
<<Hell, I'm even worried about Erken>>
<<Feeling really sleepy>>
<<Gonna nap>>
<<Leave me a message>>

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Old Aug 14th, 2022, 04:18 PM
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She's Not From Around Here
Muffie saunters into the bar and glances around, Piddles sticking his head out of her purse cautiously. "Fu, I love what you've done to the place, it looks like, a ton less wrecked since the last time I was in here." The perky blonde walks up to the bar and orders a cosmopolitan batting her eyelashes at the not so happy looking barkeep. In fact, the last time she had been in here, Muffie had destroyed the place.

She took a look around and noticed in the back of the bar a bright pink couch, sectioned off with one of those VIP velvet ropes. Turning back to Fu, she blushed, "For me? Is that a trap to keep me from causing any more damage to the bar? If it is, it is very tempting. You do know I like a good pink couch. So, I know I'm a little late to the party, but is anyone fun to chat with here?" Muffie stared at the oftentimes quiet bartender for a long moment waiting for a response. When she didn't get any she turned to watch the room.


This group was very different from her last set of traveling companions. It was like she had gone from the fantasy network to the blade runner network. At least this group actually had cell phones.

Muffie clears her throat and says to no one imparticular, "Hi, I'm the Couch Girlfriend. Fu said there was a party... Am I late?"


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Old Yesterday, 12:27 PM
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OOC
PREQUEL


This is the first thing I ever wrote about Siri. Before making a character sheet or anything. I think I might have changed the name of the cab driver in my first in-game post? Other than that, should fit seamlessly with the official game posts.

Auntie Siri
 

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Last edited by PapaHuck; Yesterday at 12:28 PM.
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