[adzling]

xclnt post +1 karma!

[Jan Schaefer]

Quite an adventure getting from Cairo to Shanghai:  spirits materializing aboard a commercial jet, attacking the passengers, at the same time as neutralizing the pilots and destroying 2 of the 3 engines!  A few tense seconds but they were no match for Olof and a few magical blasts.  Luckily, Icenark and Bloodhound, from both sides of the controls, nursed the ailing craft to an emergency landing at an old military field at Al-Jouf.  The landing strip was amazingly long for such a low population region... and the team didn't even need it.  "We make this look easy", though Jan once again.

Following all the threads persistently was once again the key to success.  The team knew that Ho Fong Imports was a likely cult transshipment point from data seized in previous raids.  The guards around the place, plus the fact that the local triads knew nothing about the criminal enterprises within, made it an easy call to hit the warehouse.  It paid off three ways.  First, the defenders were worthless until they surrendered themselves to possession by the "Bloated Woman", previously mentioned in other cult texts.  Second, more shipping records and artifacts, unambiguously culty.  And finally, missile parts.

What, what?  Missile parts?  What the hell is a death cult doing with a contintental-ranged rocket?  We don't know, but we share our suspicions with an agent of "The Big Guy"- what if the cult is trying to do another Feuerschwinge? Also, they might want to airburst a hit of tempo to take over an entire city at once, launch something small into orbit, or possibly just nuke someone.  Anything goes with these bastards.  Got to keep our eyes on that.

Following up other informational leads, we track down plenty of evidence that Jack Brady is alive and is continuing to escape repeated hit attempts by the cult.  The elf face is particularly successful at charming the locals.  Makes sense, this is her home turf, and this is her skillset.  But then she pulls this incredibly wacky long shot.  Did she have a hunch?  Is she just lucky?  Jan thinks that he would never have done this in a million years:

She just plain announces to one of the researchers that we are the bitter enemies of a death cult whose local face is the Bloated Woman.  To somebody who's been acting dodgy as hell.  Jan fully expected a floor drop into a pit of zombies, or a force 7 spirit to occupy the oldster and swallow Jiao's face.  Instead, we gain a magical ally and a mundane one, tout sweet.  Jan makes a mental note to tell her to check in before following crazy hunches- this one worked out, but the last wild gamble got her tied to a stake above a pit of awakened leeches, front row center to the resurrection of a death god's main squeeze.  With explicit instructions from the Big Guy that rescuing her was a distant second priority.

But now we've found Brady and the other half of the seal.  Brady and his pal Mu Hsien do a victory dance, convinced that we "have the bastards, we have them!"   We know exactly when their next major ritual will be and where.  We know how to construct the great seal.  Mu Hsien promises to build the "eye of light and darkness" to take over the power generated in the nasty ritual and use it to seal the portal against further incursion by these death gods.

But Jan isn't so sure.  Does Hsien plan to actually bring another god in instead of the cultists' god?  The ritual to make the "eye" sounds just as evil as anything the cultists have done up til now.  He's certainly acting dodgy as hell about sharing his research with the team.  Is there anyone else we can check with to verify Hsien's bona fides?  Is this, gulp, worth an audience with the Big Guy himself, or possibly with Nodens? 

As the team gears up to hit Ho Fong's mansion, uneasy suspicions linger in Jan's mind.  If only everything were a simple straight up fight, with life or death a clear criterion for victory. 

And, jan thinks, I STILL need to get this damn vermin Imp out of my power focus.  In the back of his mind, Tommy thirsts for blood, and power, and giggles in a creepy fashion. 
 

[adzling]

nice, +1 karma!

FYI your en route to Ho Fong's Mansion, you already raided his warehouse.

[Jan Schaefer]

Thanks- fixed it.

[Jan Schaefer]

What makes a runner run?  Here's one story, the story of a manaslinging loner who is getting tired of being a loner. 

Born 2031, during the Euro wars.  Jan’s father was a russian human soldier who raped his mother, a German human soldier.  Birth name:  Karl Krundt.  An identical twin, Rudi. 

The twins were raised by their single mother in the highly metaracist state of Westphalia.  She was largely rejected from society for the crime of bearing Dwarven children.

Jan and Rudi are scrappy street kids, frequently kicked out of school for fighting to defend themselves and each other. Their mother works at minimum wage jobs and is often fired on dubious pretenses.   

2044 Routine testing for magical talent in school revels that Jan has magical talent.  After a couple of bad conversations with recruiters, Jan chooses not to pursue a corporate future.  Due to the alliance of religion, racism, and mainstream government in Westphalia, the government’s track to legal magedom is also not an option.   Corporations mark him down in a book to look up again in six or seven years. 

2050 Jan’s mother dies of a treatable illness- she was kept out of the hospital by metaracists on a flimsy pretext. 

2052 Corporate recruiters try again, but Jan is too prickly and stubborn. 

2052 Jan runs off to join a foreign legion.  He eventually winds up serving with a mostly-Kurdish militia paid by Austria, (Austria pays them mostly to piss off Turkey).  Rudi goes to Berlin to seek his fortune.

2053 Jan befriends Medya Hala in the militia. .

2056 Jan and Rudi fight in Constantinople against the bugs. Jan is traumatized, acquiring an irrational deep hatred of shapeshifters (as well as a rational hatred of bug spirits).  After cursory treatment for mental illness, Jan is released.  He quickly resigns from the militia.

2056 Jan’s paperwork is lost in a bureaucratic fuckup.  He is declared a noncitizen/nonperson and has to try to get home illegally on foot thru the wild magical areas of southeast Europe.

2057 Jan is taken in by Roma.  Since leaving the militia he has lost 35 pounds of body weight but has learned rudimentary counterspelling.  He has also gotten very good at moving silently, and he always- always- has one hand on his AK-98. 

2058-2064 Jan’s magical talents are developed by the Roma in Bulgaria and Romania.  Jan pays for his magical tuition by providing security and muscle for Roma shenanigans, at first with a gun and then eventually with magic. During this time he acquires an intense hatred of dogs.  For some reason, Roma magic has a hard time fooling dogs.

After the Matrix Crash 2.0 in 2064, Jan goes to Berlin to rescue his brother Rudi from sudden crippling debt to the Mafia.  For the next few years Jan and Rudi try to make it as independent smugglers and B&E artists in Berlin.  Jan’s fixer is Jens von Hauch. 

2065-2068 they are increasingly beholden to the Vory and operate mostly within that organization.  The Vory often use them as hit men or security against the Mafia.  During this time he makes a strong connection with Katya Drdla, a talismonger in Berlin from the Czech republic. 

2069 Jan’s brother Rudi gets VITAS and becomes a ghoul.

2071 Even the Vory can no longer support Jan’s habit of dismembering fallen foes and feeding the remnants to his brother. Jan tries to operate independently for a while but too many people won’t work with him.

2072 Jan works in Turkey and sends Rudi cash to buy meat.

2073 A friend of a friend lets Jan know that his skills may be in high demand in Hong Kong. Jan skulks into Bulgaria and catches a flight.  (Which brings us to the start of this forum.)

[adzling]

xclnt background post. +1 karma!

[MathBlade]

Shaking. Trembling. Uncertainty.

Nothing seemed real anymore. Once the group split apart from the astrologer, Jiao wanted nothing more than to shake and admit her vulnerability. Sure she made a few utterances, but she wanted nothing more than to stay in the astral explore what happened. Why was she all of a sudden blind to assensing magic on multiple times? That cabinet. It was magic, it had to be. But yet it wasn't. Sipping the wine, the rest of the group discussing plans was like background noise to her running thoughts. Jiao wanted to destroy the root cause of it.

Furthermore, her inn was just left abandoned. Who would leave such a place so abandoned? It's prime real estate for working class dock workers to get their fill. Why would a triad hit her home inn just to abandon it? Gangs usually had some sort of profit motive? Thoughts swirled in her mind as they talked about hitting the place, and in a moment of impulsiveness, Jiao decides to just pretend like she passed out and scout out the place. She was tired of these fuckers messing with her home.

---- Cut to after the raid successfully happens (one of the "down time days" in the email)

Holding onto a priceless urn, she set it on her counter. She knew some of this would probably need to be returned to the triad, but after all she was the triad now. So technically she's just keeping it safe. At least that is what she tells herself hoping the corresponding headache was just from the stress that she's endured. Aztechnology fuckers wanted her dead. Shocking. Corps have been, and always will be shit. Gangs, even despite their illegality, are generally one of the more honest groups, at least in Jiao's experience. Book in hand, she keeps flipping through pages, hoping that something pops out to her, occasionally taking breaks to explore her third eye. She knows she probably shouldn't, but she is spooked from what is going on.

--- If you allow the following

During the night of one of the one or two days, Jiao would visit the astrologer from before, wanting to initiate a trade of sorts. She cannot teach her path of the wheel, but she can teach more about the traditional arcana and how spirits work or a boost in charisma/sweet talking. In exchange for the general knowledge, she'd learn about how the shelf works. The shelf would stay with the astrologer and not leave his site, but then Jiao may get one skill rank in "Weird shelf building that is magic but not magic" or a brief introduction into this "pre fall" magic. Enough to where Jiao would know what she would need in order to build something similar or imbue an object if she had time/help. {{I'd RP this out on the datahaven if you agree.}}

--- If you don't allow the previous block

Frustrated that the astrologer said no to her attempts to learn how exactly he trapped that spirit and a night wasted, she imagines that she partied the night away at a local bar, missing her usual social haunts. The thrill of picking up a drink without paying for it. Not giving a damn if anyone saw who she was. Remarkable yet forgettable. Now none of that was a thing. The only solace she had was a glass of wine and her book and maybe some day, she could retreat to her inn when this was all over. She possibly had the nuyen for it outright. Now it's just a matter of not having the world collapse afterward. Her, her seduction mentor spirit, her buddies and the world. Who she had to admit were pretty good, even better than most elves. Using her triad contacts, she bought two more level 4 fake sins for herself, both with magic licensed. One of which would eventually be the new owner of the bar, and the other would be if all drek went sideways....again.

[adzling]

excellent post +1 karma!

And i like your idea! We can RP it in this weekend's session.

nice one

[Reverend]

-A bit of flavor for the Resonance dive to get the comm info, more to follow soonish

*Shortly before the last session, but after the hit on Ho Fongs*


   What a whirlwind... So much to follow up on, so much to think over, and not a single slotting moment to catch his breath until now. And he hardly had time for that. The wreckage was still warm, and there was a lead to chase. Thank whatever might be up there that the group wasn't keen on asking too many questions about his methods. All he had was a janky comm, a slick private messaging app, and a bunch of hopeful (and pushy) faces looking for a miracle. Quite frankly he'd have shrugged and said it's past his abilities, but...  The memory of hazy brightness all the worst for the dumpshock migraine and her headache-blurred face as he tumbled out of the van flashed in his mind. He knew where to find their answers. They were lucky he'd be going there anyways. To find answers of his own. To find her.


   As he slipped back online in both mind and body, he took a deep digital breath, taking in non-existent lungfuls of what was coded for air in the local public host. His eye opens to take in the sculpted world. People moved past, streaming by, some in custom avatars designed to catch the eye, others in the stock-image fashion or simple cut-and-paste jobs. Any other time he would take a moment to enjoy the sensations, maybe wander the digital streets and admire the iconography. But today he had an appointment with a librarian and he'd be damned if he let their not knowing about it stop him.

   Bill had walked this path so often lately it was beginning to feel eerily second nature. Even knowing this terrain was simply a beautiful lie, looking for the flaws seemed wrong. Not the normal flaws one would expect in a sort of computer-generated fantasy land; physical rules being broken, fantastical and unreal entities, or even missing or corrupted textures. Here, the flaws were more like glimpses of reality hidden beneath the surface. Once it had been a booth in a diner, what should have been a clear sensory copy job just like every other booth, smooth and comfy but this was tacky and scuffed; something too real in a land of fiction. Subtle enough that no one would really take notice, but if you knew what to look for it was as jarring as noticing a mannequin breathing. And always, the next time you looked, there would be nothing there.

   This time it seemed that something was looking out for him; just a few steps away was an ad for a local museum, some ancient art display. Some images of the paintings blinked in and out of the ad, but... yes, right there, in an old watercolor landscape with a small house in the distance. The artificial light seemed to be distorted, and as he looked closer he saw it. The two-dimensional doorway was only perhaps a few millimeters in the image but opened into a sort of three-dimensional room that looked straight out of M.C. Escher's drawings. There was movement within as well, though it was too small to see who, or what, was moving. A quick glance around confirmed that no one was paying him any heed, and after all, people logged in and out all the time. He closed his eye and mentally stepped forward.

   After feeling what he could only describe as a full-body sneeze with prolonged tingling, he opened his eyes. He was standing on one of an endless number of surfaces, all crisscrossing, spiraling and stretching off to everywhere and nowhere at once. Programs whirled past at the speed of thought, millions and millions of packets of code shifting near-imperceptibly around him, as if completely oblivious to his presence except for ensuring they moved around without hindrance. It was always an unusual feeling being here; like if one was able to step out of time and reality, just far enough to see that between each passing instant there were incalculable numbers of little workers each nudging every atom and photon into place over and over again.

   He'd always thought of this as the In-Between. Not quite his destination yet, but the right place to find it. Here, in the Matrix equivalent of a frenetic backstage to a world-sized play, he could sit quietly and watch the organized chaos. Staring off into the middle distance he could see the data flowing, and after a few minutes he could see a pattern start to emerge. As it did, he closed his eyes and could feel the pattern shift him along. Once he stopped he would open his eyes again and wait to see the new pattern, and repeat. Eventually it would take him where he needed to be.


   Eventually he felt the data tugging in every direction and knew deep down he was at the beginning of the line. He steeled his mind, bracing for the aching, armor-piercing punch to his soul that always came from crossing the Event Horizon. What would it be this time? More real-time footage of his family catching each other up on current events, dancing with perfect practice around the eldest son? Years of footage of Mel dropping in to check on his parents, answering all the idle questions because none of the important ones could be asked? Maybe this time would be all about the damage he's done of late; the final comm calls of those he's killed to their own loved ones, messages that will never be heard or replied to, microphones tapped by the Resonance itself to replay to him words told to children trying to explain why mommy or daddy would never be coming home. Then again those things weighed on his mind enough already, maybe it'd have a new trick up its sleeve.

   Instead of the expected soul-searching test of character he'd been preparing for, what greeted his view was simply a circular room completely covered in small screens, and the ancient door to the Endless Library cracked open. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. There should've been something horrible, some sublime epiphany that would make him reconsider... well, something at least. Not... nothing. In the back of his mind he felt cheated; like a bank robber who, after careful study and practice finally slipped to the vault door and found it open with a note saying 'Back in 1 hour.' Curiosity got the best of him, and it didn't take long to realize the problem. It was all over the screens.

   In that bank of thousands upon thousands of images, easily the majority were fairly nondescript scenes of daily life. Some were crosswalk cameras showing people milling about their afternoon. Home security cams displayed parents with children, old people making dinner, some enjoying private trysts. There were fights as well, and sporting matches, and concerts. Some were night-vision augmented views of people sleeping. In essence, a world continuing to spin and get along with things. Then there were the other, scattered screens. Hidden in all the general humdrum of life, there were recordings of the things they've seen, and been fighting against. Horrible monstrosities, ritual sacrifice, insane writings of magical evils. Granted much of the imagery was directly from his own footage, but the point was clear. If he screwed up, those relatively peaceful screens would never exist again. The Resonance couldn't break the rules to help him, but it could bend them to help. Which means it's just as worried as he is. “Frak.”

[adzling]

super awesome post, I love this. Very nice writing. +1 karma!

When are you gonna GM again?

[Iceanark]

<internal encrypted message>/<Alpha encryption>

Priority Message for Iceanark (LM Founder)

System report - data breach.

@ time stamp - 11:45:33 there was a data breach from personal files - Iceanark

<admin notes>

Hello Iceanark

Apologies for the high probity report of a data breach.  I wish to make a person note to what we have been able to find out about the breach.

System alerted us to a data breach in your personal files and we were able to intercept the sniff program that had caused the breach.  We wear only able to because it was a 20 year old program.  As far as we can tell the sniffer program has been lurking in your privet files since last you access your personal data. As you know your personal files are off line until you request access and the signifier program attempted to get back to its operator.  We have been able to piece together the following information: -

Sniffer program was trying to get back to Cambridge analytical.

Dater that was taken was recent upload, seems it was not intended to access old data but intercept new and report back.

Final we were able to retrieve some of the intercepted data and will work to restore the crusted files.

Have added retrieved information for you to access and advise further action.  Reply on amber channel for priority actions.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

<https://lm-personalrecords.uk/thefounders/merlin.s>Link Name</a>

<secret window>

Personal record for Samuel Merlin(aka-Iceanrk)

<secret window>

2072:12:14 - London

<corrupted data> …… been slowly moving towards retirement, not much work for an old school street Ork.  Some say I should be dead, some say I’m dead already. I have out lived most of the LM members, my dear old friends and Showdowrunners that knew the old me.  My life is now solo jobs and body gardening duties.

This changed recently with a job of keeping an eye out for Jackson Aliens as he investigates for another book in London.  The gig was to keep an eye on him without him knowing.  His publisher hired me for the job.  I got a little sloppy and Jackson spotted me, had to think fast on my feet (wave file) “I was for your safety as this are dangers arears of town.  I don’t think you should be only here, the local gangs are notaries……” this whit lie allowed me to gain his confidence and I should him around London.  What I had told him was true but I didn’t let on that they all know me.  We fast became friends and it was much easier to protect him being closer to him.



Affect he went back to New York I assumed that would be the end of another small time job.

In the New Year his published got in touch and wanted me to come over to New York and pick up the same gig but over there.  It has been 20 years since I left that strange land and I felt it was time to face my personal demons so took the job.  As I boarded the plan…….. <corrupted data>

Mission Notes

2073:01:11 - New York

>Hotel

Set up position in hotel. Observed runners entering the building.  Followed running taem to hotel room where target was (job protection).  Got jump on runners at the door, dynamic assessment hostiles in room 410.  Target dead, work with runner, ask questions later.

<Audio file>   “My god of the bloody tongue will have your….  (urk)”  … “Dark god”....”

<Inventory>   Picture (Yacht in a harbour, name partially obscured;  “DAR”)
      Letter from Cairo


<Team analyses>

Dwarf – maner through, small, gobbe.
Troll – Biggers I have seen, quiet but fast, overkill.
Human – watchful, back seat driver, keen eye for detail.
Human’s robot – nice piece of kit, limited AI
Elf male – arrogant as hell (nothing new), fast… very fast, too quick with sward.
Elf female – all looks, changeable, gift of the gab, soft target.

All magic uses, don’t know how I feel and that.  They now Tog, that’s a name from the past and if he runs with them I know they can be trusted.  More than I can say for Tog (wave file – laughter)

<Follow up>

Spent time chancing our tales and then got picked up by the pigs …… <corrupted data> ….. was the need of that.  Fond some useful leads, Elises death is connected to Tempo (new awakening drug) and bunch of pharaoh hunters lead by ……………………… Carlyle expedition.  Some serious shit and stinking magic all over the place. I don’t like ……. <corrupted data>



>Juju House

<corrupted data>

Mission Notes

<corrupted data> ……..shit what a lot of bullocks that has been.  This run started of strange with having no patron and no real target…. it’s a fact finding mission and if we find who killed JA then, what the FUCK THEN ?......... <corrupted data> …….out Juju house was easy to stake out, could have done with a decker but with all the magic about what the hec…… <corrupted data>   ….. Emerson imports show up will have to …… <corrupted data> …… s we started down the stare of Juju house I got this fucked up feeling, me and the other runners nerves are fried.  Intel up to this point is giving me the heebie-jeebies……

(Data Gap <corrupted data>)



<end of data packet>

[adzling]

excellent origin post, +1 Karma!

[adzling]

G’pum’s dilemma

Was the time near? The time to act? The time to finally begin acting? It was frustratingly unclear but G’pum was beginning to think maybe, just maybe it was. He’d been *very* patient so far with these Materialese, more patient than his Progenitor would have been, he was sure of that.

Had he made the wrong choice? Should he have chosen the bigger one? His K’irth-mate D’mup had certainly thought so. But D’mup always had been preoccupied with flashy things, “style over substance doesn’t feed the K’irth” their Progenitor had scolded them on many occasions. Nah, sure D’mup had chosen the one with more personal attachment to it’s carrier, you could tell that at a glance, it really meant something to him whereas his carrier just though of his as a tool. But G’pum had followed his upbringing and picked the brightest, most powerful and hence most difficult to bind. That should ensure that it’s carrier would be very loathe to part with it. He had certainly put up with G’pum so far with little complaint. But then what was there to complain about? He had shown the carrier his capabilities a few times, for free, just to give him a taste. But the time was coming where the cost would have to be levied, his cycle demanded it.

If G’pum had been different he might have acted already, but G’pum was always the most thoughtful and patient of his K’irth-mates, so he had waited, learning as much as possible about his carrier and the strange life these Materialise led. And now the time to act was coming, he could feel it in his calgor.

There had been a moment of pure terror when the carrier had brought him close to the traveller, but luckily he had kept his distance. That could have turned out awful, thank the Progenitor it had turned out the way it did.

Their current path was certainly an interesting one, but not of any value if G’pum could not enter the next phase of his cycle. But where was the lever? He had searched and thought and examined all angles but was still uncertain. So much of what motivated these Materialise was just plain alien to him. But that artifact! Man that thing was almost pure K’irth-bait. G’pum was certain he could use it, but first he would have to forge the pact. And the pact would require a lever, and he was still uncertain which one would work on this carrier. He was confident the time would come, and when it did he would be ready, as he had been trained. The cycle demanded it.

[adzling]

<inside Brady's head as the events unfold>

About damn time, something's starting to happen...all my little hairs are standing up...

This is it! This has gotta be it!

The birth of that slitch's' Child is gonna happen any minute and we're gonna be on hand to terminate the little bastard. I'll put old Gretchen on it, she always does good work. 50 grams of match grade alloys tend to.....Damn!!!

"Where did that slotting storm come from all of sudden?" Jack texts across the tac-net

<composure check>

"Wtf is that..thing...stepping out of.... that immense rift.
Shit, range finder is putting it at over 100' tall!"

<difficult composure check>

"Holy shit did that staircase appear out of nowhere?
Hey everyone's streaming up towards...it!
wait, what's...OMG!!!!"

<very difficult compsure check>

[adzling]

Bloodhound stands transfixed by the thing lurking in the shadows of the adjacent room. He sways slightly and a rivulet of drool descends in a long, pendulous string from his cock-eyed grimace. Despite his silence an occasional message bleeps on the tac-net. The grammar is weirdly precise and wooden, not at all like his normal witty banter.

<meanwhile inside bloodhound's head>
Standing in front of the....creature...your mind reels from the unmistakable sensation of motion inside your cranium that feels distinctly like fingers thumbing through a filing cabinet...that and an odd odor emanating from the other side of the electric field combines to make you completely disoriented and off balance. "Nauseous" would be the correct word, yeah that's it! You feel "ill". Phew, that was an effort just to conceive of the proper word while it sifts through your your meat-RAM's many virtual file folders. Eventually it lands on a clear picture of Clockwork embedded in your long-term memory and an oddly anachronistic text message floats across your field of vision in giant flaming letters "do you seek the angry-short-one? I conversed with him just recently, I can trade information for my release".

You vomit onto your shoes and wipe the remains away from your mouth with the back of your hand. This is the first moment since it opened dialog that the feel of something unnatural intruding in your mind is no longer present. The jelly-cone-alien-thing wobbles a bit in what you take for anticipation. Or indigestion, hard to say...maybe that's a precursor to "gossip" wherever this thing's from?