[5e] Circles of Power Recruitment [Prime Runners Wanted!]

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« Reply #60 on: <04-22-15/2039:36> »
thanks for all the help, imma start revising  :)
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« Reply #61 on: <04-23-15/2153:27> »
Before i get ahead of myself in excitement, whats our team comp? do we need another mage? Im not 100% sure exactly what we have
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« Reply #62 on: <04-24-15/1208:23> »
Don't worry about composition, it's likely to change a month down the line no matter what I do  ::)

I will tailor events/opposition to suit the current players...the more mages there are (two already) then the more magical opposition you'll face etc...

I've updated the character list on the OoC, 9 players which I will probably split into 3 teams of 3 (depending on PC preferences / plans which I won't overrule!) for the 3 different targets in the upcoming run. 
« Last Edit: <04-24-15/1229:11> by Aria »
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« Reply #63 on: <04-24-15/2205:24> »
Will there be a separate OOC/IC thread for this or will it all be contained in the Stormy Waters thread?
Self thought


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« Reply #64 on: <04-25-15/0049:11> »
Heres some of Daddies background, i should have him up either later tonight or tom morning :)

Name: Michael Gormont
Race: Caucasian, Human
Height: 5'10
weight: 185
Awakened: confirmed


Mother: Angelina Gormont
Race: Caucasian, human
height: 5'4
weight: 130
awakened: Negative
Occupation:Former Evo High threat Response team, Position, Combat medic, Current Unknown

Father: Franklin Gormont
Race Caucasian, Human
Nationality: French
height 6'1
Weight 210
Awakened: Confirmed
Occupation: Former Evo High Threat Response Team
position, Magical Support, Current Unknown

Michael Gormont was born to his parent shortly after their "voluntary" termination from the Evo megacorp after a incident which involved the deaths of several "Innocents " of high standing, In order to avoid any form of backlash, Evo decided to liquidate the high threat response team.

after losing everything they turned to the shadows to make a living until Michael's mother was wounded on a run and a grimy street Doc told her she has a Kid and shouldn't get herself fragged. So after a long talk they decided to move to the UCAS with his fathers old shamanic mentor. Michael's early years were spent either Immersed in VR games and learning self defense from his mother or listening to the old stories of the spirits of the  world from his father or the old man his father called "coyote". But the old man always looked at him strangely and called him something that would always make his father angry.

These early years passed quickly and once he hit the age of fifteen his mother and father told hike they had to go to Europe, his grandfather had passed away. Michael was confused this whole time, sure they let him take his comm and games with him but he had never heard of this grandpa.The trip was short but scary, a HUGE man with horns drove a smallish plane, his father told him that his name was HamHock and that he was a old friend that Michael could trust. After eventually building the courage to talk to the troll Michael couldn't help but ask about anything and everything Ham had done before finally being shushed by his dad.

Eventually they landed on a grimy roof top and his father pulled out a strange device and attached it to the keypad by the door. Grandpa had apparently never trusted anyone with the codes to the roof door. After a few tense moments and his mother covering his mouth and whispering to be quiet his dad nodded and they entered the building. It stank and was real dark, His parents took him to what looked like a bedroom and told him to stay put while they looked for, something they wouldn't say what.It seemed like Michael was there forever so he decided to start looking around the room, This was probably his grandpas old room. After a few minutes of looking through old books and clothes Michael saw something big in the closet and went to look. But while he was walking a part of the floor, He found out later a trap door, gave way and dumped him into a poorly lit room, He landed on something cold and kind of squishy.

Michael looked around the room and saw all kinds of strange old things from his spot on the floor, Strange symbols and books, what looked like bones and real candles, "Finally" a soft voice whispered, With a jump michael turned aroudn to realize he was sitting on his grandfathers body, His fingers wrapped around something, as Michael stared transfixed a pair of white hands slowly crept from behind his grandpas head, a womans face slowly appeared, pale and cold looking.He wanted to scream but no sound would come, he scrambled away from the woman, He dark eyes glittered in the dim light and as she crept forward, her hands planted on the body, he say deep cuts and slashes across her body, but there was no blood. Her dark hair swayed in the light and she eventually locked eyes with Michael and Smiled before, Finally, he gained his voice and started screaming.

The woman vanished with a gust of cool dark wind as a large ghostly wolf burst through the floor growling, his dad climbed down shortly after and hugged Michael close burying his face in his battered leather jacket. they left quickly after that, His parents were horrified that their son had found the body and worse His grandfathers Black Lodge. His father shook as he watched his son drop into the VR games he loved so much, In the astral it looked like a woman was greedily wrapping him in her arms and what looked like souls were starting to gather about him and whisper to his son. Frank tried to banish the spirits but the woman never left and the souls didn't even seem to notice his magics.

Since his father couldn't do anything his mother saw to his body and tried to keep an eye on him the rest of the trip. When they returned his father went strait to Coyote and told him to do something, but it was too late, Michael had been changed, The spirit was the Seductress and it seemed she had chosen him.

After these early events Michael withdrew from the world for the most part, locking himself in his room and either jumping in his VR games, something he did more and more as he aged, this took a toll on him his body growing week and dark bags forming under his eyes. His father tried to teach him the path of the Shaman and to follow Brother raven, but it was pointless and eventually they got desperate and tried to find another magician who could teach him.

Eventually they found and man named Guilt, a experienced black mage and runner Ham had worked with in the past, Guilt told Michael that he needed to be strong, He needed to take fate in his own hands and strangle the Bitch. Guilt taught Michael all he knows of the black arts and after a few years, around when Michael turned nineteen, told his parents that Michael could now take care of himself and that they needed to fulfill their end of the bargain, They needed to do one last run with Guilt, None of them came back.

Using the money and equipment left to him by his parents and the few books and trinkets Guilt had left him, Michael took to the shadows, in search of power, money and excitement. He will be no spirits puppet and he wont let whats happened change anything, Life's short and then you die, Daddies gonna pave that road with the bones of his foes, The sweat of his lovers, the cries of vanquished foes and laughs of friends all because well he's damned anyway, why not?

Some of Daddies Personality

After the traumatic events of his childhood he at first became very withdrawn and retreating into various VR games, both new and old. This all changed when he started to get tutored by Guilt. After he learned more about his particular brand of magic he became a vary Confidant and outgoing individual, while most find him well creepy he is a outgoing and sometimes friendly individual. Hes loyalty is hard to earn but once earned he will stick by his friends. He does become very grumpy when he cant get to sleep and has to deal with the whispers of his unwanted mentor. In combat he is a ruthless individual, gladly killing any foe that stands between him and his goal and unless specifically told otherwise, he prefers lethal methods to any other way to deal with a opponent.
« Last Edit: <04-25-15/0105:39> by DrZombol »
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« Reply #65 on: <04-25-15/0314:41> »
Will there be a separate OOC/IC thread for this or will it all be contained in the Stormy Waters thread?
Stormy waters will be the OoC but I'll start a separate IC once I've got the opening post written!
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« Reply #66 on: <04-25-15/1425:36> »
Here is submission for my Character: The Frenchman

Runner Name: The Frenchman
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Metatype: Human

Short Story:
He suddenly sat up on his bed, pulling with him the tubes that connected his nose and left arm to various cannisters and machineries. His grayish green eyes opened up wide and he let go a scream, a mix of fear, pain, and surprise. Though of usually light complexion, he was paler than normal, his mid-length dark hair wet with sweat from a fever and terrifying nightmares. His toned and defined shirtless body was only covered with bandages running across his chest.
- "NON!" he screamed
- "Easy Pal, easy. Welcome to the world of the living." Said another man, in a deep comforting voice.
He felt a pair of strong hands on his shoulders, carefully pushing him back onto the bed; the humid cover perfectly cushioning his frame, sign he had been there for a while already.
His vision was blurry and he could only distinguish the features of the deep voiced man. The dark form appeared before him, and something set upon his nose and mouth, perfectly fitting.
- "Here, you need some more rest, you'll soon be back to shape." Said the man.
A few breaths in and consciousness escaped him. Everything went black, again.


He slowly opened his eyes and it took a few second before they could adjust his environment. The ceiling's light was dimmed down, and he could hear a regular beeping on top of the soft buzz of machineries. He heard a door opening and turned his head toward the extra light that appeared in his field of vision. He could see an imposing shadow but was unable to distinguish the man's features.
- "Well, well, well. Our Frenchman is awake."
- "Ou suis-je? He said in a rather weak voice."
- "Oh Boy! Recognizing French doesn't mean I can speak it Frenchman. Do you speak any English?"
- "Je crois... I mean, I guess, I understood you.... where am I?"
- "Welcome to Dr. Henry's private clinical facilities, Frenchman. The man said joyfully as he approached closer to the bed. I'm Dr. Henry"
This time he could finally see that Dr. Henry. A bulky black man with a more prominent belly. He wasn't really dressed like what he would expect from a doctor but, after all, the place didn't look much like a regular hospital room either.
- "What happened? ... what am I doing here? and why you keep calling me Frenchman?"
- "Whao, that's a lot; let's start with the easy part. Frenchman is because I don't know your name, and you kept mumbling in what I recognize as being French during your time asleep, which has been quite a while now... so what's your name?"
- "I am.... I ... I don't know... " He seemed concerned and looked at the doctor with a very worried look.
- "The trauma may have cause a temporary amnesia, it should come back with time."
- "Trauma?"
- "Nasty wound, you barely made it alive, you know." Dr. Henry said pointing at the bandages on the Frenchman's chest.
"The bullet was about two millimeters away from your heart, and you lost a lot of blood. Without that treated skin you've got you'd be dead for sure! A friend of mine found you on a backstreet a few blocks from here."
- "Here. Where is here? Where am I?"
- "No memories at all? "
- "It's all black... the only picture in my head is this room. And..."
- "And?"
- "I'm not sure... surgery room... lighter than here... it's more like feelings... struggle, fear..."
- "Well from what my scan showed me you were under the knife more than once; cyber, most notably your jack and a datalock I noticed, and some fancy bone lacing, maybe some bioware enhancements too other than that Orthoskin. Your subconscious may just be remembering those evens...You've been out for two weeks now. You need to take it slowly, stress won't help you heal. As for your previous question, here is my own little private clinic. So don't worry, I don't know what got you here, but cops ain't coming to ask unwanted questions. Here is London."
The Doctor was telling the truth, he could smell it. Olfactory Booster certainly. The same two questions kept pounding in his head. Who was he? What had happened?


The Frenchman looked at his reflection in the mirror. His beard had grown thick for his time spent in Dr. Henry's clinic. His skin had regain some color. The wound on his chest had almost closed up now; pretty nicely according to the Doc. He ran a finger over it; just as his life could have ended, he felt like being born again. It had been almost a month now since he got shot and still no memory of his life before that. It was scary. He took a deep breath, still looking at himself, his arms holding and supporting him on each side of the sink. He stood there, silently, his mind trying to make sense of the blackness inside.
Yet he was healed now, at least physically, and the doctor had given the green light to get out. He owed Dr. Henry a lot. Not only for keeping him alive, but for the time he had spent in his clinic. And he had nothing to pay him back... His only possession: a magkey, that looked like a locker keypass. No clue to where the locker was either...
That could however be the only clue he may have from his life before getting shot; he had to find it. The report the doc gave him of the cyber and bioware modifications his body had sustained was scarying him. Some would allow him to be a good courier, like the datajack and lock, enhanced muscles, or Synthecardium. But the extand of some modifications and wares just didn't make sense, for this job at least... the more he though of it, scaringly so, some would be great additions for a job like... assassination?
He watched his reflection, he wasn't sure he liked what he saw or what he could see rather.
- "I brought you some street clothes." Dr. Henry said as he interrupted the silence, entering the small room.
The Frenchman wasn't surprised though, he knew the doc was coming. He had smelled him...

- "Thanks. For everything. I owe you a lot. I wish I could pay you back."
- "Don't worry about the money. I'm sure with all the skills you have I'll find some useful favor to ask you one day. Plus just refer me to your kind when they'll need some care or surgeries."
- "My kind? what do you mean?"
- "You got no SIN, Frenchman. Yet you are superfit with enhancements that'd make some sammies envious. There's no doubt, you belong to the shadows. And if you didn't before, well maybe it's time for you to consider. A friend of mine can help you with this."
The Frenchman stayed silent, still deep in his though, then spoke up.
- "Well, how about I keep that in mind? For now I need to know more about myself. I'll look for that locker, it may contain information about me."
- "Sure thing Friend, take the time you need..."


There it was. Locker 2632, King's Cross Station. His still bearded face partly hidden under the hood of the sweater he was wearing, the Frenchman could feel his heartbeat accelerate. It only took him a couple days to find the location of the locker and he found out that he had his way with people. Even wearing old street clothes. Somehow he felt he'd rather be wearing a suit or something much more fancy than the very casual attire he was now wearing. Was that because that's what he used to always wear? or because he never could wear it and spend his life envious of those who were? Memories would disappear, habits wouldn't, good and bad.

There he was in front of the locker. With both hands inside the pockets of his hoodie, he was fondling with the magkey inside his left pocket. People were walking around him, living their own lives. Commuting, traveling, escaping, nobody was really paying any attention to him. He swiped the key through the old lock and the small door opened. The space was only filled with a shoebox. Should he open it now? what if the content was just too overwhelming? or what if no one should see what's inside? The Frenchman grabbed the box and left the station.

Less than five minutes later, he passed a back alley, and stopped, a gun pointed at his face.

Somehow, he wasn't afraid, not even worried. He had smelled the two other persons circling him from behind already. Punks. That's all they were. And he wasn't worried because he knew exactly what to do.
- "Give me your 'link, and that box!" Shouted the punk with the gun. A young ork, his leather jacket carrying the emblem of a gang he didn't know or remembered.
Muscle memory took over consciousness. His right foot pumped a strong kick in the kid's knee as his left hand, still carrying the shoebox slammed the light pistol to take it out of alignment with his face. Without waiting for the ork to fall or react he bashed at his target, sending a strong punch in the ribs followed immediately by a side hook on the ork's left temple. His assailant was out before he could even realize he'd been attacked. Yet the Frenchman, didn't stop. He used the momentum of his side punch to rotate toward the two behind him. They were humans of indian decent, also wearing a leather jacket but apparently just armed with clubs. They raised their weapon and launched at the French...

Removing the dust off the shoebox, the Frenchman gave a last look at the punks that tried to mug him. Two were out while the other was rolling on the ground with barely enough strength and breath left to cry out his pain. It was more a like mumble. It had been an easy fight, it shouldn't have been. His fighting skills were way above average, not only he just proved it, but somehow he also knew it, even before the fight had started. Memories and knowledge, quite different.
He hushed his way back to the coffin he had been renting for the week.

He needed to take a deep breath before opening the box. Not sure what he would find in it, maybe answers, maybe disappointment. He popped the lid open. A pistol in it's holster, some ammos, a credstick and commlink. And most interestingly, an ID. Which he picked up first. It looked pretty real, his picture displayed along some data lines and electronics chips for more information. But more importantly a name: Remy LeBeau.
He stared at it for some time, whether real or not he had a name. He glanced at the other items. He grabbed the gun. And muscle memory and coordination kicked in, along the with the smartlink. He rolled the gun, charged it, pointed it, rolled it back like he had done that all his life. He knew it was just a combination of his enhanced agility, both fine and gross motor skills, but together it was deadly. Who was he? What was he?
He emptied the box on the bed and looked inside hoping for more clues, but none were found. He thought about what Dr. Henry had said. He was but a shadow of himself... a Shadow, maybe that was were he belonged indeed, in that shadowy world of intrigues, action and betrayals. Yes. He'll be the Frenchman, Shadowrunner.
A few months since waking up in a street clinic, The Frenchman still doesn't remember anything about his past. However, he has found a life he's striving in. One of risk, vices, and high stake adventures. How he got those expensive enhancements he doesn't know, nor who decided to kill him, but his aptitudes with a gun are exceptional and he has managed to put it to good use.
He quickly made a few contacts in London, thanks to Dr. Henry, and borrowed some money to upgrade his standard of living, and get the necessary equipment for his job. A British Fixer hooked him up with a few run, and the outcome was outstanding, quickly making a name for himself in the right circles. 
The Frenchman turned out to be a socialite, comfortable around people, who likes women and drinks but when dealing with a job, he is overly discreet and professional.
Yet, behind the facade of a strong, charming and professional man, The Frenchman is torn. Many like to forget, all he wants is to remember. Remember who he was, remember what he was, remember who and why someone tried to kill him. And he'll stop at nothing to find out.
But he is afraid, afraid of what he may find. He knows now he has the skills of a cold-blooded killer. Maybe the ones who left him dead had a good reason.

== Info ==
Street Name: The Frenchman
Name: Remy LeBeau
Movement: 18/36
Karma: 40
Street Cred: 4
Notoriety: 0
Public Awareness: 0
Human Male Age 34
Height 1m82 Weight 95kg
Composure: 7
Judge Intentions: 9
Lift/Carry: 11 (90 kg/60 kg)
Memory: 5
Nuyen: 81591

== Priorities ==
Metatype: C(2) - Human, Dwarf, Elf, or Ork
Attributes: E(0) - 12 Attributes
Special: E(0) - Mundane
Skills: A(4) - 46 Skills/10 Skill Groups
Resources: A(4) - 500,000¥

== Attributes ==
BOD: 5
AGI: 6 (9)
REA: 5 (8)
STR: 3 (6)
CHA: 4
INT: 5
LOG: 2
WIL: 3
EDG: 7

== Derived Attributes ==
Essence:                   0.03
Initiative:                10 (14) + 2d6
Rigger Initiative:         14 + 2d6
Astral Initiative:         
Matrix AR Initiative:      14 + 2d6
Matrix Cold Initiative:    5 + DP + 3d6
Matrix Hot Initiative:     5 + DP + 4d6
Physical Damage Track:     11
Stun Damage Track:         10

== Limits ==
Physical:                  9
Mental:                    4
Social:                    4
   Mortimer of London: Argentum Coat [+1] (Must be visible)
   Mortimer of London: Berwick Suit [+1] (Must be visible)
Astral:                    4

== Active Skills ==
Animal Handling            : 0                      Pool: 3
Archery                    : 0                      Pool: 8
Armorer                    : 0                      Pool: 1
Automatics                 : 0                      Pool: 8
Blades                     : 0                      Pool: 8
Clubs                      : 0                      Pool: 8
Computer                   : 0                      Pool: 1
Con                        : 6 [Fast Talk]          Pool: 10 (12)
Cybercombat                : 0                      Pool: 1
Demolitions                : 0                      Pool: 1
Disguise                   : 0                      Pool: 4
Diving                     : 0                      Pool: 4
Escape Artist              : 0                      Pool: 8
Etiquette                  : 6                      Pool: 10
First Aid                  : 0                      Pool: 1
Forgery                    : 0                      Pool: 1
Free-Fall                  : 0                      Pool: 4
Gunnery                    : 0                      Pool: 8
Gymnastics                 : 4                      Pool: 16
Hacking                    : 0                      Pool: 1
Heavy Weapons              : 0                      Pool: 8
Impersonation              : 0                      Pool: 3
Instruction                : 0                      Pool: 3
Intimidation               : 0                      Pool: 3
Leadership                 : 6                      Pool: 10
Longarms                   : 1 [Sniper Rifles]      Pool: 10 (12)
Navigation                 : 0                      Pool: 4
Negotiation                : 6                      Pool: 10
Perception                 : 6 [Scent]              Pool: 11 (13)
Performance                : 0                      Pool: 3
Pilot Aircraft             : 4                      Pool: 13
Pilot Ground Craft         : 4 [Wheeled]            Pool: 13 (15)
Pilot Watercraft           : 0                      Pool: 7
Pistols                    : 7 [Semi-Automatics]    Pool: 17 (19)
Running                    : 4                      Pool: 13
Sneaking                   : 6 [Urban]              Pool: 15 (17)
Survival                   : 0                      Pool: 2
Swimming                   : 4                      Pool: 13
Throwing Weapons           : 0                      Pool: 8
Tracking                   : 0                      Pool: 4
Unarmed Combat             : 6 [[Martial Art]]      Pool: 15 (17)

== Knowledge Skills ==
Arabic                     : 1                      Pool: 6
English                    : 4                      Pool: 9
Firearms                   : 2 [Pistols]            Pool: 4 (6)
French                     : N                      Pool: 0
Ghost Cartels              : 2                      Pool: 7
Military                   : 1 [Special Forces]     Pool: 6 (8)
Small Unit Tactics         : 4                      Pool: 9
Syndicates                 : 2                      Pool: 7
Underworld                 : 3                      Pool: 8

== Qualities ==
Agile Defender
Amnesia (Surface Loss)
Biocompatability (Bioware)
Consummate Professional
Hawk Eye
In Debt XV
Quick Healer
Steely Eyed Wheelman
Strive For Perfection
Vehicle Empathy
Weak Immune System

== Lifestyles ==
Medium  1 months

== Cyberware/Bioware ==
Bone Lacing (Titanium)
Boosted Reflexes
Data Lock Rating 6
Internal Air Tank Rating 3
Low-Light Vision
Muscle Augmentation Rating 3
Muscle Toner Rating 3
Olfactory Booster Rating 6
Orthoskin Rating 4
Reaction Enhancers Rating 3
Reaction Optimization
Reflex Recorder (Skill) (Pistols)
Sleep Regulator
Sound Link
Synthacardium Rating 3

== Armor ==
Ballistic Mask                      2
   +Select Sound Filter Rating 2
   +Single Sensor Rating 6
      +Ultrasound Rating 2
   +Thermographic Vision
Chameleon Suit                      9
   +Insulation 3
   +Nonconductivity 3
   +Thermal Damping 4
   +YNT Softweave Armor
   +Quick-Draw Holster
Mortimer of London: Argentum Coat   12
   +Chemical Protection 4
   +Custom Fit (Stack)
   +Electrochromic Clothing
   +Fire Resistance 4
   +Nonconductivity 6
Mortimer of London: Berwick Suit    9
   +Custom Fit
   +Nonconductivity 5
Securetech PPP: Arms Kit            1
Securetech PPP: Legs Kit            1
Securetech PPP: Vitals Kit          1

== Weapons ==
Colt America L36
   +Concealed Quick-Draw Holster
   +Smartgun System, Internal
   +Spare Clip
   +Spare Clip
   Pool: 17 (19)   Accuracy: 9   DV: 7P   AP: -   RC: 3
Savalette Guardian
   +Concealable Holster
   +Smartgun System, Internal
   +Spare Clip
   +Spare Clip
   +Spare Clip
   Pool: 17 (19)   Accuracy: 7   DV: 8P   AP: -1   RC: 4
Unarmed Attack
   Pool: 15   Accuracy: 9   DV: 9P   AP: -   RC: 3

== Martial Arts ==
   +Kick Attack
Krav Maga
   +Called Shot (Disarm)
   +Leaping Mantis

== Commlink ==
Transys Avalon (ATT: 0, SLZ: 0, DP: 6, FWL: 6)
   +Sim Module
   +Mapsoft (London)

== Gear ==
Ammo: APDS (Heavy Pistols) x60
Ammo: EX-Explosive Rounds (Light Pistols) x33
Ammo: EX-Explosive Rounds (Blades) x24
Climbing Gear
Fake SIN (Remy LeBeau) Rating 4
   +Fake License (Restricted Cyberware License) Rating 4
   +Fake License (Restricted Bioware License) Rating 4
   +Fake License (Concealed Carry Permit) Rating 4
   +Fake License (Private Investigator License) Rating 4
Gecko Tape Gloves
Glasses Rating 3
   +Flare Compensation
   +Thermographic Vision
   +Single Sensor Rating 2 [Camera 2]
Survival Kit

== Vehicles ==
Hyundai Shin-Hyung (Sport Sedan)
   +Sensor Array Rating 2

===Karma & Nuyen Expenditure===
- Parkour [Martial Art] w/ Leaping Mantis quality (-7 Karma)
- Pistol 7 > 8 (-14 Karma)

« Last Edit: <12-21-15/0205:19> by obidancer »
Rick Deckard - Circles of Fate
Kachina - Shaking the Shadows


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  • Omae
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  • Posts: 538
« Reply #67 on: <04-25-15/1728:01> »
Okay, I have tried again and again to get the background done in detail, but writer block stops my every effort, so here's the general overview until I get it done.

"Coyote" was born in the NAN, and lived happily with her family, until she started manifesting astral abilities. Then a crazy old shaman, late sixties or so who was obsessed with raising a whole commune of magicians dedicated to his path kidnapped her, took her to an isolated place in the middle of nowhere and started teaching her magic. He was abusive, but not to the point where she tried to kill him, until he went entirely bug-nuts when she turned seventeen. She picked a direction and headed out until she ran into a road, where she waited for a passing car. She hitched a ride to the local police station, and when her DNA matched that of a girl kidnapped 12 years ago, the police took her claims seriously, and she took them to the place in the desert. She found out that because of her kidnapping and presumed death, her parents had turned to drugs to cope and killed themselves with overdoses. With no purpose in life she aimlessly wandered for a while. Along the way she became associated with Shadowrunner, and decided to see what the life was like for herself.

Not very detailed atm, I'm having some serious writer's block issues atm.
What's your favorite scary movie?


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  • Prime Runner
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  • Posts: 2881
« Reply #68 on: <04-26-15/1124:14> »
Along the way she became associated with Shadowrunner, and decided to see what the life was like for herself.

If I can assume from our PM that my character is the 'Shadowrunner' his name is Smiley.  :)

If that is true, this kid's got a bad habit of falling in with the wrong people.  :) 

Wolf and Coyote running in the same pack, oh my!   :o ??? ;D


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  • Ace Runner
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« Reply #69 on: <04-29-15/0846:09> »
Ok, initial IC is up so we don't loose too much momentum.  You will all get the 'call' from Torrent's 'link along with a packet of info to allow you to identify Mr J when you get there.  It's about 7.30 in the evening and the implications are that this is to be a 'rush job' so you'll be able to get more nuyen for your time (although we'll skip direct negotiations due to the way rewards work in my game!).

For those playing in CT, don't worry, I'm not abandoning that until we reach the end, but that shouldn't take too long now!
Excel Cha Generators <<CG5.26>> & <CG6.xx> v18


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  • Omae
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  • Posts: 538
« Reply #70 on: <04-29-15/1818:46> »
Am I in or out? I can get contacts done real quick, and expand the background.
What's your favorite scary movie?


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  • Ace Runner
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« Reply #71 on: <04-30-15/0631:51> »
In! Finish off as and when you can but feel free to post IC.

 Let's close this thread now and move stuff over to the main OoC
Excel Cha Generators <<CG5.26>> & <CG6.xx> v18