[Shadowrun] Broken Glass and Broken Dreams

[Beychaliban]

Game Name Broken Glass and Broken Dreams

Game System Shadowrun 5th edition

Theme Corporate intrigue, nothing is really as it seems on first glance

Flavour Low lives caught in something big

Background Seattle The clouds were hanging low in the Seattle sky, threatening snow, while a cold wind was blowing, making the few brown leaves still left in the streets dance to it. It was late at night and almost too cold to be outside. She hurried down the narrow road, lit only by a flickering lantern at the far side of it and a red half broken neon sign saying ' elc m ' over the metal door on the building to her right. The windows were shut, maybe sealed, but there was muffled sound coming from the inside. She hastened her step even further. Her breath came in ragged puffs, creating small white clouds in the cold winter air. There was a cracking sound somewhere above, then a sharp pain in her shoulder, making her stumble. Something happened to her vision, everything blurred, the world began to turn. There was the sound of hard boots on concrete, something black came into view and then the whole world turned black.

Plot Summary Seattle It's a cold Friday evening in December when your commlink chirps to indicate a new message. You know the number, it's your fixer. No picture, as usual, secure and encryted message, as always. >>>> Hoi chummer! There's a show at the Trinity tonight, 9 PM. There might be work for you, just tell the guy at the bar that you're looking for Mrs Johnson and you'll get access to a VIP room for the show. Interested? <<<< It's just another job to be able to pay your rent, preferably with some bonus for other expenses, right? And who wouldn't want to get into the "Trinity" for free on a Friday night? Outside there's Christmas decorations everywhere, whether it be real world or matrix, the same christmassy songs like every year are being played all day long in the malls and even the matrix shops (unless one turns it off). Several organizations gather money on the streets, most of them charitable, others probably not. There's someone of the 'Seattle Orphanage' just down the road: an overworked looking woman with an oversized yellow scarf wrapped around shoulders and head, leaving only the upper part of her face to the cold evening air. There's an ARO indicating that she works for the Orphanage and is gathering money, not for Christmas presents, but for the everyday needs of the children.

About me Though I am not really new to this site I have very little actual experience in both GMing and playing here. Might be that I'll need a bit of help with the community rules and such. At least I am an experienced GM, both at the table (SR3 and 4 for over 15 years) and via PbP (for about, uhm, 10 years or so, several settings/rules). Since I am not too familiar with SR 5 I'd prefer this game to use 4th edition rules. Players who know me already also know, that I occasionally will use wild guesses of the characters/players and turn them into something real, so paranoid characters/players are welcome

What am I looking for? I am looking for 3-4 characters, not yet high professional runners (having done some runs is okay), who can work together as a team. Though I prefer a team that can cover most things I can also work with a mostly decker or mostly magic-user team, just don't expect me to have too many fights (there will be some, but "big-badda-boom" is not my style). I am looking for plot hooks in backgrounds and tend to (in this case: will) build them into the story (which is relatively easy to adapt to backgrounds)

Application Name / Alias: Metatype: Intended Role: Description and/or Picture: Background: Roleplaying Example:

Build rules Build: standard priority build Metatypes: only the basic 5 (human, dwarf, elf, orc, troll), no meta variants Contacts: there will be one contact for free (have to read up a bit about that, though) Books: please stick to the core rules as best as you can (I have chummer 5th ed, but that doesn't mean I own all books). So, if there's equipment or qualities -> go for it. If there are special skills and/or special rules -> please refrain from using them you can use chummer (5th ed) for character build, but a character sheet is not necessary at this point

[Beychaliban]

Q&A Question: Why not SR5? Answer: I don't feel comfortable enough to be a GM, yet. Question: Why the change? Answer: Not knowing enough to be a GM will change in about two weeks, I guess. So, it will turn into a 5th edition SR game. Question: Since you're switching from 4e to 5e, are you changing the build rules? Build points aren't really used in 5e... Answer: You are right. I just changed that part Question: When will the game start? Answer: at 11 / 11 characters will be picked, a first posting will be out 11 /12 in the morning at the latest (GMT+1)

[Ericg1s]

Real Name / Runner Alias: Dan Grover/ Nick Chopper

Metatype: Dwarf

Intended Role: Slightly Cybered Brawler/Biker (no control rig.)

Concept: Cyberpunk style shadow operative. More former ganger than street samurai.

Description and/or Picture: Light brown eyes, hair, and skin with a short, neat beard. Wears a motorcycle jacket and helmet.
Does not YET have any unusual distinguishing marks or scars (but he might gain some...)

Contacts: His main contact is the classic Johnson (not his real name) who gives out jobs. This colorful character was an old school pal of his father, who discouraged him from spending much time with the man. This had the effect of making Dan WANT to sneak off to listen to the man's stories, and develop a love of 'the shadows'. It wasn't until he was forced to LIVE the shadows that he realized that they are as dirty as everything else.

Background: His parents were low-level corporate grunts, until they vanished. The large death benefit allowed him to finish school and get some basic cybernetic enhancements, but the money is gone now. He never found out exactly what happened to his parents, but their disappearance convinced him that 'normal' life isn't that much safer than the shadows. He finished school but never applied for a 'legitimate' job, and managed to disappear. He is still listed in the SIN database, but he doesn't use his 'real' id for anything except to pay taxes on the 'anonymous gifts and donations' he receives for his work in the shadows. He maintains a false front as a courier, and a utility apartment, so that he has someplace to hide and heal if things go bad, but spends most of his time in his runner persona.

Personality: Tries hard to prove to himself that he still has a heart. Everyone thinks his running name simply refers to the motorcycle he rides, but it actually refers to the Tin Woodsman-he doesn't want to become all armor and no heart.

Roleplaying Example: Nick Chopper carefully considers the offer...
"So you only need someone to find your daughter and ensure that she is safe. I will look into the matter, but I can't guarantee results. You don't need to pay be anything up-front, but I will accept food and the chance to recharge my bike, and a place to rest. I should know in a few days either way, and I will let you know."
The man's grief and concern seem genuine, but this could be a trap set by some 3rd party. He will approach the matter from a slight angle, trying to find out about the girl without revealing who she is or why he is looking.

Main Disadvantages: SIN (basic, 5 Karma).

Main Advantages: Starts with a high Edge rating. Also, likely to spend Karma on extra money. Might not take any beneficial qualities.

Main Cybernetics: Bone Density and Dermal Plating.

Main Equipment: Stiener TMP, Armored Jacket, Helmet, Motorcycle.

Main Skills: Unarmed Combat, Firearms, Drive Motorcycle, Investigation, Urban Survival, Deception.

Combat Style: Fights mainly with his fists. Uses his gun to provide allies with cover fire.

Running Style: Rather generic and low-profile.

Favored Runs: Investigation or detective work.

Disfavored Runs: Wetwork.

Main strength contributed to team: Determination and staying power.

Main weakness: Can't handle magical situations effectively without support. Also, not particularly good in the matrix.

Scene from childhood:
Dan Grover has a question for his parents when he opens his presents...
"Why do my friends seem to get a better brand than I do?"
He expects them to give the same answer they always give, which is that he shouldn't be 'brand snobbish,' and that the toys he gets are as good as those his friends get, just cheaper because they are not as heavily advertised.
Instead, they start yelling at each other for no reason.
"Wait-I didn't mean it like that-I already know the answer, I just like to hear it from you!"
Everyone cries for a while, and then....Well, things felt better for the next two years, and they stopped talking about brands entirely. His friends stopped flaunting brands as well-perhaps their parents were running short on cash to keep up with name brand everything.
After that, things went bad for reasons he tries not to remember.

Scene from a previous run:
Nick Chopper waits at the checkpoint to stop the car if it comes his way.
This is a simply milk run, where the driver should, in theory, not be harmed. Nick prefers it that way.
After 2 hours, he contacts his allies to ask if the pizza has arrived. They tell him to come back to the hotel.
Back at the safehouse (not a hotel,) he learns that the driver surrendered long before reaching his checkpoint. His role in the job wound up being irrelevant.

[Beychaliban]

Since I might have a few days off in a few days and seeing that there is little to no interest for a 4th edition SR game, I'll read up on the rules for 5th edition and change it to 5eth ED.
Plus, I can work some more on the fluff texts as well

[Silk]

I'll get a character concept up today or tomorrow.
While I originally didn't want to run two Shadowrun games, as I am new to the system, I feel I got a better grasp of the mechanics of 5th edition(though the combat rules are a bit confusing).
One thing I noticed in Shadowrun is that, for me, making a character sheet gives me ideas for background and character concept so I'll be making one even though you don't require it and I like that your going to fit any plot hooks the characters have into the story

[AlphaZ]

I have a troll adept investigator and an elf face/street sam that I could bring into this. Not sure which would fit better. They're both fairly combat-capable as designed, with one focusing on perception/assensing/etc and the other on social skills.
The troll is a SINless barrens native that worked as a PI but recently went vigilante in the search for his missing son.
The elf is a woman struggling to overcome ennui and her inner demons from a history of abuse by chasing thrills in the shadows.

[Silk]

"Kirā" - Nabiki Name / Alias: Nabiki / Kirā Metatype: Elf Intended Role: Sniper w/ some infiltration and drone use <was going to go sniper/rigger, but rigging confused me a little when I looked it up, so I'll shelve the idea for now > Description and/or Picture: At 20 years of age and only standing 5'2" tall and 93 lbs, Nabiki makes for a short Elf. She will only wear black, even though her favorite color is purple, as she is in mourning for her mother. She has grey eyes and neck length black hair with the bangs and the bottom ends dyed purple. It is her only point of vanity as Nabiki wears no makeup or jewelry other then her commlink as a bracelet. Background: <I consider the Positive and Negative Qualities part of a characters background> Catlike: At a young age Nabiki learned the value of being quiet in the Redmond Barrens. High Pain Tolerance [R2]: Life in the Barrens are more painful for some, and they have to learn how to live with that pain. Code of Honor (Assassin's Creed?): Nabiki's mentor, a Japanese beat cop, taught her honor, even if she is an assassin. <I know, cliche as hell. Might change it, don't know yet> Insomnia [10]: The specter of her dead mother haunts her dreams every night. <And if I keep the Assassin's Creed negative quality, any innocent's she may kill in the future will haunt her dreams as well.> On with the Actual Background story: Her name is Nabiki. Just Nabiki. Her mother's name is Mary. Just Mary. Mary was middle aged for an Elf when she was pregnant with Nabiki and named her daughter after a dying friend three months before she was even born. Would have been funny if Nabiki was born a boy. Is their a reason why they have no last names? Nabiki does not know the answer as her mother would not tell her. And since this is Nabiki's story, you will not find out. Where is Nabiki's father? Her mother would not tell her that ether. As time passed, Nabiki's best guess scenario had him as a dead beat father. Her worst guess makes her shudder to think of it, so she does not think of her father at all. While Mary managed to support her daughter so they would not starve, they were barely getting by. They lived in the Redmond Barrens, on the edge of an Orc gangs territory, the "Rusted Stilettos". It was bordered by an up and coming gangs territory called the "Spiders". They were also close to the border with Renton, another district of Seattle, but not close enough for the Knight Errant patrols to come and stop the violence. Almost every day it seemed as if someone died. Nabiki's mother Mary was terrified of trying to move, unable to pay any gang fee's and did not want the gang's to take her daughter away as payment. They lived homeless, for the most part, and in abject poverty. By the time Nabiki entered into her teenage years they had found a somewhat secure place to live. It was a partially collapsed spillway that was a dead end but was also well concealed and had another place they could hide inside if someone did find it. Nabiki was thinking of herself as happy during this time. Of course the Redmond Barrens exists to make people unhappy. When she was fourteen...or was it fifteen? She could not remember. When Nabiki was in her midteens, she and her mother had managed to get enough money to buy some decent food and was hurrying back home when a gang fight exploded between the Spiders and the Rusted Stilettos. And they were caught in the middle of it. At the time Nabiki was frozen with fear and did not realize why her mother had pushed her so hard. Her entire body felt as if it was hit by a wall of force and all sound was gone, except for a ringing in her ears. The ringing got louder and louder until the sound of screams and gunfire faintly came back to her. Blinking away her tears and pain Nabiki looked around for her mother. She found what was left of her several feet away, her bloody face staring at her with vacant eyes. She has no real recollection of what happened after that until she woke up in her home, hugging what food survived, bloody and drained from crying. She only had a faint memory of crying while trying to drag parts of her mother back together, from where the grenade that killed her, had flung them. All the while the gang war continued around her unabated. Nabiki desperately wanted to start crying again, but she could cry no more. In her chest was a void and she intended to fill it. Not long ago Nabiki had found a rifle and had brought it home. Mary quickly hid it in a hole along the side of their home and covered it up. She remembered how Mary scolded her for stealing someone gun, dropped or not. Again, Nabiki wanted to cry but only the void inside her ached more. Uncovering the rifle from where it stayed hidden, she cleaned it the best she could and prayed it still worked. She did not know it was a Ruger 101 and was the cheapest sniper rifle to be had. All she knew was it had six bullets in it and she was going to use them all. By the time she managed to figure out how to travel without people noticing her caring a gun, almost as tall as her, around she had decided on a less suicidal path. Mary, being a relist, had made Nabiki promise that if ever she should die, that her daughter would not throw her life away trying to avenge her. So whatever plans she came up with would have to involve her being able to run away. Tying straps of cloth from her belt to the trigger guard(with the safety on) and one from the barrel around her neck, Nabiki pulled a drab blanket over her shoulders to hide the rifle and went hunting. It was two days latter that she found her first target. It was a Spider scout walking through the edge of Rusted Stiletto territory. She found a safe place and aimed, and aimed some more and surprisingly hit her mark. The Spider's knee exploded and he went down screeching. Nabiki had decided she would not kill her targets. No, they would feel her pain. The next three targets she missed, but she stuck to her 'one shot, then run' policy and managed to get away without being spotted. The fifth time, she managed to hit the Rusted Stiletto ganger in the stomach. As was her practice, she left right away and returned home, not realizing she had been followed. A little MCT Fly-Spy Drone had followed her. Once she had hidden her rifle Nabiki set about making something to eat. That was when Goro Shuji walked into her life. At first, Nabiki thought he was going to kill her, or worse. When she found out he knew she was the sniper taking pot shots at the two gangs, she thought he defiantly was going to kill her. But he only wanted to move her from this path of dark destruction she was heading to. He showed her that even though she got her revenge, the gangs were taking it out on the people in the area. He showed her, through the gangs, she was responsible for the pain inflicted by the gangs. Feeling the guilt of all the pain she caused, Nabiki finally managed to cry again. Goro decided to teach her. If Nabiki was going to live, she needed skills. Goro was a retired beat cop from Japan. How he ended up here in Seattle was a story in itself, so we'll skip on as this is Nabiki's story. Goro Shuji used to work for the Japanese PD as an infiltrator/rigger and started to teach her some of what he new. He taught Nabiki how to influence people, and some acting skills needed to infiltrate places with security. He also taught her close combat and how to use a computer and how to fly his drones about. He taught her a lot, and sometimes Nabiki thought her head would explode from the information. But most importantly, he introduced her to his contacts. He would always say, "Contacts are a runners lifeline. Use them wisely." When Goro gave Nabiki her first comic book she was hooked. To this day she is a big comic con geek, much to Goro's horror. He had thought he had gotten away from all the otakus when he left Japan. But then the day came. She was ready and Nabiki was finally a women so the day after her twentieth birthday, Goro said he had talked with his old fixer and the guy agreed. When the Fixer called her commlink, Nabiki would officially become a shadowrunner. When Goro asked her what she wanted her street name to be, Nabiki took some time before saying, "Kirā". Goro frowned and was almost ready to tell her to pick another name, but seeing her jaw set stubbornly, he nodded. Shortly after he had taken Nabiki in, he had informed her that the ganger she had shot in the stomach had died. He didn't tell her, but she found out anyway, that at least three people had died from the increased gang aggression that she had caused. And she considered their deaths to be on her hands as well. So the name was an apt one, for Kirā in Japanese means "Killer". Roleplaying Example: It was a week after her twentieth birthday and still Goro's old Fixer had not called. At first Nabiki was terrified and excited all at the same time. But as the day's passed she grew antsy, 'Dang it Nabiki, get a hold of yourself.!' she thought. Then smacking her hand to her forehead and sighing in exasperation as she scolded herself, "It's Kirā now. Not Nabiki! Kirā!" Realizing she needed something to do, Kirā got an idea, grabbed a four foot long bag with a strap to go over her shoulder, and jumped onto her Yamaha Growler and took off towards the Redmond Barrens. Normally she would ask Goro to come with her before even heading back into the barrens but she felt she had to do this on her own. Once on the highway, she used Gridguide most of the way there. She needed the time to think if she really wanted to go back for it. Finally making a decision, she took manual control of her bike from Gridguide and took the turn into the Renton-Redmond exit. Their was not much traffic and lots of cops. "Damn." she said to herself as a patrol car behind her hit his lights and she pulled over. "Crap, there must have been a boarder incident. Blasted gangs." Stopping her bike and turning it off after setting the kick stand, Nabiki took off her helmet. And it was Nabiki now as that was what her fake SIN said. Sitting back she shook her hair out before turning to the officer. "Is their a problem officer?" with a flick of her finger she slid her fake drivers license, her fake SIN ID, and even her fake concealed carry license to him through VR. He informed her that their was indeed a problem and she was right in her guess about the gang activity. She also saw his interest. While short for an Elf, she made for a fetching figure in her armored synthleather biking outfit. Thanks to Goro's training, she didn't panic and just smiled and calmly asked his questions. Nabiki kept his attention on her and not her ID's that would register as fake if he ever ran them. When he asked, "So you want to go get a bite to eat sometime?" She just smiled and after seeming to think about it while looking the young officer up and down she seemed to come to a decision and nodded her head. "I do think I'd like that officer. But my dad would have a hissy fit if he didn't meet you first. He's and old retired beat cop like yourself. Well, except for the old and retired part." She smiled at him. It was an unspoken rule that you don't date the daughters of old retired cops unless you ether get their approval first, or risk getting a bullet. The officer let her go with a warning about the gang violence ahead and his commlink number without ever once running her ID. Surprisingly, she had no problem getting to her old sad home and retrieving the Ruger 101 she had hidden there all those years ago. Goro found her half way through dissembling the old sniper rifle on the kitchen table. He knew exactly where she got it and was pissed but just sighed and asked if she had any trouble. Nabiki got up and quietly hugged the old man. Then she told him about the cop and he simply smiled and found pride in her. He may not be her father, but he felt proud of her as if she was his own. "Keep the number. Having a beat cop as a contact can come in handy." She went back to her cleaning before he added, "Oh and if you do decide to date him, I "Do" want to meet him." <<<I think I will use this as part of Nabiki's background too. I like it to much. The cop will be a contact with 1/1 rating.>>>

[Beychaliban]

I like the“missing son“ part of the trolls background, AlphaZ. So I am slightly in favor of the troll, though every team needs a face as well.

[AlphaZ]

Name/Alias: Ronan Miller / "Rex"
Metatype: Troll
Role: Investigator
(draft)

Description: Rex is a big street-hardened troll with some years and scars evident on his face. Black glasses and a cigarette mask the sleep deprivation and add to his inscrutable demeanor. His heavy black coat wards off the rain and bullets alike while also hiding his troll-sized Browning Ultra. He operates outside of the respectable part of Seattle, but draws the gamut of clientele seeking a more effective solution than the local PD. His office is dingy and smells like smoke & sweat, sporting poor lighting, a cluttered desk, and a stained lumpy mattress in the corner; the ashtray overflows and the soycaf machine looks beat to hell; the walls are littered with pictures, articles, and e-paper reports; and inside it all the big troll paces, struggling to find some peace and rest in the jigsaw life he's built around himself.

Background: Ronan grew up in the barrens like a lot of trogs did. Money just isn't a fact of life for most tuskers, and though a lot of people value trolls for their raw bulk, not a lot respect them enough to assume intelligence. But Ronan was street-smart and, as it turned out, Awakened, so he did better than most that he grew up around. With a strong sense of community, loyalty, and justice, he quickly became known as an enforcer for the "little guy", which for a Troll is just about anybody anyway.

Having a strong distaste for the SINful lifestyle, Ronan carved out a life for himself as an independent bounty hunter and private investigator, getting paid to clean up the same kinds of streets on which he'd grown up. He did fine for himself, opened a little office, and eventually started a family. It was sort of an accident really, but not something Rex complained about. Unfortunately he cared more about the boy than his mother, and one day she skipped out without so much as a call or a note. She took their son with her, but when Ronan tracked her down she'd fallen into drugs and totally lost track of the boy. That's when things fell apart.

Ronan searched everywhere for his son, chasing every lead, squeezing every contact, and shaking down every ganger, trafficker, and average Joe that he thought might know something. As weeks and months turned into years, Ronan went from community hero to urban legend: "Better be good, or Rex will come for you and mess you up!" Kids on the street would say to spook each other. The man was burning out, sleeping less and getting more violent. He'd sunk all of his money into the search and was now in debt with some bad characters and living out of his office. Rumor had it he was getting pretty loose with who he'd beat to a pulp for a chance at finding his son. Though some of that has died down as hope of finding his son has faded, it's left little more than a washed-up husk of the once proud professional.

RP Sample: The big troll sat in the undersized chair across from the detective's desk in the police station. He held an umbrella in his lap, like a toy in his huge hands, and glanced from the detective down to the e-form and back. Rain and hopelessness streaked his face as he waited patiently for the detective's affirming nod. It came.

"He'd be about 9 years old now, uh, troll, two horns facing back. Cute. Strong. Tough." Rex's eyes wandered as he searched his memory for the important parts. It was hard to filter what was important to him vs what would be important to the report. "His name is Bingo. His mom named him that. What kind of a name is that, anyway? Bingo. 'He's gonna get bullied' I told her. But I guess she always wanted a son named Bingo. He was a tough kid. He wouldn't get bullied. But what kind of a name is Bingo? I dunno. Bingo." His big fists wrung the helpless umbrella in his lap. He looked up at the detective.

"How long has he been missing? 'Bingo...' " the impassive detective queried. "Oh, uh... About four years I guess." Rex responded. He swallowed hard and looked away.
"Why did you wait this long to file a missing persons report?" the detective asked quizzically. "Well officer, it's not really like me to lose people. I actually do a lot of finding people, actually..." He trailed off for a moment as the detective stared over the top of some cheap AR glasses. "I don't mean no offense, officer, but the PD is kinda the last resort for us common folk." Rex wasn't great with his people skills, but he tried his best to say it as non-confrontationally as possible. The detective maintained his robotic gaze. "So then what brings you here now?" He asked. "Well... I just don't have nowhere else left to go." Rex replied, and he hung his head. Sadness, shame, and defeat washed over him like smog in the Seattle morning.
"I see." The detective looked at Rex a few moments longer, idly tapping his stylus like some kind of inconsequential, metaphorical gavel. He then looked down at the e-form and went to work with all the enthusiasm of an overworked and undermanaged wage slave. Rex waited at his mercy.

[Silk]

Heh, someone else from the Barrens

[Silk]

I believe Nabiki(aka Kirā) is done. Will have to go over the sheet when i'm more awake

[Dvorak]

When are you looking for this by? I am completely new to Shadowrun But have been learning the rules and lore for another game on here. Would that work ok for you?

[Zazaq]

Stan, AKA Mork Metatype: Orc Age: 16 Intended Roll: Sprawl Ganger/infiltrator Description: Mork has a large nose, and small black eyes that are typically either holding a look of contempt or focus. His tusks are small for an orc, but still large enough to be noticed by anyone within a few feet of him. His body is robust but not overly muscular, and he stands only 6 inches taller then your average human. He enjoys looking like the big scary orc that squishies cross the street to avoid passing. To that end he typically dresses in a skintight t-shirt with some graphic bloody pictures, big black combat boots, though oddly enough no visible weapons. He also never got any tattoos or piercings, which is handy for when he dons his trench coat and blends in to the crowds. He typically speaks in a soft and relaxed tone, letting his deep baritone carry the weight of his words for him.   Stan was born in a much nicer home then you would expect from meeting the man. Though he never knew his father his mother was an engineer who worked for Aztechnology, being that she was a skilled laborer she made a comfortable living and was able to put her family in a good neighborhood. Certain that this would mean a better life for her child. This backfired though, living next door to, going to school with, and buying his groceries from humans gave her young child a very good view of how his kind was seen. What bothered him the most was that his mother was a skilled laborer, she was much higher on the corporate ladder then the typical working man, so why did she have to yield to some minimum wage desk jockey? Why did she have to take drek from some minimum wage cashier? His mother taught him that it was just the way society was for now, that it was just what they had to live with. Stan tried to live with this ideology, really he did. Eventually though it wore him down. It grew to hard to ignore all the ugly glares that his classmates had, the name calling, the shoulders that 'accidentally' bumped him in the halls. Then one day, it happened. Stan walked into a corner store on his way home and immediately heard a young man declare loudly to his friends that some 'god awful' smell just blew in. Stan was quiet for a moment, then calmly approached the boy and punched him, hard, in the jaw. It took about three seconds and as many blows to his head for him to realize what a horrible decision he had had made. The next thing he knew he was sprinting down the street with no idea where he was going and five boys hot on his tracks. He evaded them for about ten minutes, ducking through alleys and running through lots, before he found himself suddenly flat on his face on the pavement. Luckily before the beating could really start he heard a yell as an orc, one not much older then him, rushed to the seen. Without question, the boy dove into the mini mob of attackers, tackling the boy standing on Morks back. While the humans were busy prying Stan's rescuer off their friend, and shifting their aggression more towards him, Stan managed to stand up. He didn't think of running, he didn't think at all, he just picked up the very brick he had tripped over and bashed one of the boys over the head. This was enough to panic the humans and send them running to the hospital. Stan was more then a little frightened, looking into the bloody, piercing covered face of his rescuer, but the thug only laughed and exclaimed that they 'sure showed those squishie's!' In the silence that followed all Stan could think to ask was why? Why did you do that, why did you help me? The boy stared at him like he was insane as he answered 'cause you're a trog, trogs gotta look out for each other.', He then insisted on taking Stan back to his house to take care of his scrapes. Canjork, as he had learned was the boys name, then led him into a small apartment where they were immediately fussed over by an elderly orc woman Canjork called grandma. As the afternoon went on Stan became more comfortable around his new friend's family, surprised by how warm and kind the people were to him despite their initial appearance. When he finally got home he was greeted by a red faced mother who had apparently just been informed he was suspended from school, as the boy he clubbed was actually a classmate of his. He didn't get in too much trouble with her, his claim that they started it and he was defending himself was believable. So his suspension was little more then an unexpected vacation from a school he hated. The next day, being that he had it free, he went back to Trog Town and met up with Canjork, this time meeting his gang too. The United Allegiance of Orcs and Trolls, or UAOT as most called it. One of those gangs that got real pissy if you called them a gang, insisting they were a militaristic civil rights group. To be fair they weren't slinging drugs or robbing people or anything like that, they got their money protecting the neighborhood. Most notably a popular, off the books brothel that catered to this districts 'trog fetish' market. Which thanks to some very bold, very aggressive business acquisitions, they basically had a monopoly on. The girls weren't slaves though, and the people Mork meant seemed to genuinely approve of the UAOT despite their 'taxes'. So he went back again the next day, and the next day, and even when his suspension ended he kept going back. When his mother found out what he was doing she completely cut him off, hoping to scare him into running away from the new world he found and coming back home. This backfired as it led to Mork moving in with Canjork and soon after joining the gang officially. In addition to their protection racket the gang also served as a tool for Canjork's father Malkroz, The Wraith, a renown shadowrunner who often used them for extra muscle or diversions on his runs. At one point Canjork and Mork end up being brought along on an actual proper mission with him. While the man usually worked alone, preferring to perform his jobs as quietly as possible, this job required a lot more gunplay then usual, as well as some intimidation. The mission succeeded but they were stiffed a well earned tip when Canjork called Mr. Johnson a frakkin breeder. Canjork didn't get brought on any runs after that, but Mork did. This put a bit of a strain on their friendship but the two are still very close. Eventually Malkroz started setting Mork up with his own, albeit smaller, jobs. He's built a bit of a reputation, though he's not a pro yet by any means, the 'discount wraith' he's been called. Still its enough to keep the lights on. Which is a fair accomplishment seeing as how much time he devotes to unpaid jobs that help the UAOT or the neighborhood in general. Bottom line he's often short on cash but he never lacks a place to sleep or goes hungry. Malcroz was killed recently. His door kicked in and body sprayed full of holes just like that. Mork is eager to find out the details and pay back the murderer, but of course this takes a back seat to day to day survival.   "Does this mean I'm a member of the UAOT?" the boy asked eagerly, eyes sparkling like a little kid on Christmas morning as he looked over the Beretta in his hand. It was cute but the man on the steps kept his eyes hard and his face stone cold. Like the kid he was dressed in a simple t-shirt paired with a loose pair of shorts, though his included a graphic cartoon image of an orc marauder heaving a bloody war ax. "It means I think your old enough to have one," he corrected harshly, squashing the hope in the boys eyes. "And that I convinced Canjork we were better off passing these things out around Trog Town then hawkin'em," the last bit was more to himself, a little pat on his own back for actually changing that stubborn bastards mind. "Listen Pesnov is really pissed off, word is he's gonna move on us soon. Now if he really can bring the full force of his family down here over some piece of green ass we're gonna need all hands on deck. A gun in the hands of every man with the balls to protect his home, that's why I'm giving you this, and that's the only thing you have it for! Protecting your home." He continued, voice growing harder even as the boy took a scared expression. "I find out you stuck someone up or showed this thing off or did any other stupid drek with it, I'm breaking all four of your frakkin limbs! Get me?!" he roared. "Y-Yes, yeah of course!" The boy said, shaking his head rapidly up and down. "Good." Mork replied, all aggression gone from his voice as he leaned back and out of the boys face. "Grog is doing a little lesson tomorrow, 4pm in the lot their building that new McChicken at. You don't so much as turn the safety off before then alright?"This time the sternness in his voice was coupled with concern, almost like a parent. This time the boy smiled as he nodded. --------------------------------- Mork was microwaving some soy oats in his kitchen when he heard the explosion. He was out his door in five seconds and out of the apartment lobby in thirty. The brothel, there were dying flames in front of the concrete building, and black soot everywhere. It didn't look damaged, good. No bodies, good. Gunfire, everywhere, the car crashed in front looked like a sparkler toy with all the yellow lights dancing off the black body. Two men hunched behind it, in cover from the brothel but right in plain view of him. They had suits, they had big guns, they were humans. "UAOT MOTHERFRAKKERS!!" A young voice right beside him screamed, barely audible in the whirlwind of noise. Aiden, Mork let his eyes bounce from the boy to the boy's gun and back to the men. At least one of the rounds popped off hit, but they saw him, worse neither of the suits looked hurt. They were both readying their rifles and they both had plain view of us. The bullets let loose half a second after Mork vaulted over the rails and shoved the dumb kid off his feet, getting his left arm shredded to hell in reward. He didn't fight the momentum, he let himself spin once and fall to the ground as he tried desperately to block out the searing, god awful pain. Before his body had finished bouncing from the fall he managed to shoot up his right arm, lock onto the suits and unleash a hot mess of bullets straight out of his palm. He didn't stop until his clip was empty, and by then both men were limp and leaking heavily onto the street. He let himself roll over onto his back, taking a deep breath as he looked at the bright blue sky overhead. Slowly riding down his adrenaline high. With the bullets gone it had become so quiet. The tranquil moment was shattered by the damsel in distress. "Mork! Oh god thank I'm, thank you I'm sorry are you okay?!?" The boy rambled, chest heaving up and down so much it almost resembled a frog. "Do I look like I'm frakkin alright?" Mork demanded raising up his left arm. "Hey. If you can't wait tell you get to cover before yelling like a jackass and giving away your position then at least FRAKKIN HIT THE DECK FIRST!" He roared as he eyed the bloody limb. It wasn't that bad. His dermal plating once again proved to be more then worth the thousands he shelled out. "I'm sorry I'm so frakkin sorry!" the boy replied before starting to sob. The older orc took a deep breath before opening his mouth again. "Hey, hey its alright,' he insisted, christ Aiden was just a kid maybe he never should have had that gun. Then again, "You know you can learn not to be a stupid jackass, you can't learn to have balls. Na, courage. You can't learn to have courage. You just have it, and you have it." The man praised as he pulled himself up to look the boy almost in the eye. Boy was trying to smile but he was still shook, and still trying desperately to wipe the tears from his face. People were coming out of the woodwork by now, bleeding out of the apartments such, some members of his crew some not. "Come on, lets go make sure everyone's all right," he said, pulling himself to his feet and nodding towards the brothel.

 

Mork Attributes Body: 6 Str: 4 Agi: 6 Rea: 6 Int: 5 Log: 1 Cha: 1 Qualities/Drawbacks Catlike Homeground (You know a guy) National Sin Outspoken prejudiced torwards elves and humans Allergic to Hay, gets really bad hives if he touches it Contacts Canjork; defacto leader of the UAOT. C4 L6 'Gretchen AKA Granny'; Local street doc. C1 L4 Gromja; Local fixer of the lower district, and supposedly a good friend of Malcroz. C3 L1 Skills Athletics: 6 Stealth: 4 Sneaking: 2(6) (Urban specialty) Palming: 2(6) Etiquette: 6(Street bonus) Con: 6 Perception: 6 Automatics: 6 Pistols: 1 Unarmed: 4 Heavy weapons: 3 Knowledge Skills Speak Orcish: 10 Organized crime: 4 Local gangs: 6 Sprawl Life: 4   Weapons Knife Ares Assault Rifle (fake licence 4) -silencer -Imaging scope -five frag and five high intensity explosive grenades Cyber Submachine Gun (fake license 4) -silencer -external clip slot Hand Razor Amour Chameleon Suit (Fake license 4) Armor Vest Helmet Vehicles Yamaha 5000 Enhancements Thermal vision ocular mod Smuggling compartment containing lock picks and knife Dermal Plating 3 Hand Razor Cyber Submachine Gun (fake license 4) -silencer -external clip slot Other 1000 Comm Lockpick set Sequencer 4 Grapple gun and plain rope 2 smoke grenades 5 kg of rank 2 foam explosive mini welder gas mask Keycard copier rank 4 Ultra sound sensor 6 1,690 Nuyen-non specified ammo 7 karma

[Silk]

looked over my sheet and realized I didn't get any Melee weapons for a last ditch defense, or the two Flash-bangs I wanted her to have, or put in a notation that the armored cloths is synthleather(don't know why the Chummer5 program won't allow me, It say's it can be added in the book). Will fix when I get home.

[Orgetorix]

Well, I read the damn 4e book to see how did I like shadowrun, and now we are changing it to 5e... I guess it's my fault for not posting for interest. (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

I guess it's not that big of a change, so I'll post a sketch of a character... Probably tomorrow, and I'll try to find a 5e book.