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MathBlade

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« Reply #15 on: <11-01-15/1255:44> »
<ooc:>

She is a human, but an elf poser. She puts on fake elf ears every day and has a jealousy towards true elves. She watches her weight to try to be more elf like while saving up for surgery to be more Elven especially the ears.

Personality wise she doesn't reveal much as she normally is a great listener. However when people talk about elvish stuff or anything fashion related she smiles like Christmas and never shuts up. That and corporate gossip make her swoon. She is like the modern version of an e! Weekly addict except with Corporate stuff.

She is in the Aberdeen neighborhood in order to get her gossip high. Jiao usually pays for gossip and tips by either teaching her words in Sperithial (spelling off sorry posting on my phone)!or by letting her get a good look at her features. She also pays for cable just for more things to gossip about with corporate clients. Her world is built around gossip. If Jiao gives her some and lets her talking sometimes she pays in Chinese as well. It has been a long time since nuyen has changed hands between these two.

And yay! Point of interest!! During some of this extensive downtime she will show up there from time to time..</ooc>

adzling

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« Reply #16 on: <11-01-15/1258:34> »
<ooc> xclnt i will get this info added to her listing <ooc>

Jan Schaefer

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« Reply #17 on: <11-01-15/2322:03> »
Talismonger, connection 3, loyalty 3.  "You and the contact are even".  Human female, elderly (but healthy and vigorous), prefers cash/credstick.  Vice:  personal grooming/clothes.  Personal life:  Family.  Type:  Swag. 

Kati Drdla was born in the Czech Republic when there was one, way back in 1990.  At 22 when the UGE and dragons appeared, she looked around at her life as a retail clerk and decided life was too short to spend as a wageslave, even in gorgeous Prague.  So she sold all her possessions and moved to Berlin to live in the artists' communes south of Potsdamer Platz.  She quickly rose to the top of the field in wearable magic fashions; despite having no spellcasting powers to speak of, her assensing and fashion sensing were topnotch.  Her husband Frank Reil's work as a freelance civil engineer supported her in her early business efforts, but soon her earnings surpassed his.  She is now completely retired from the fashion business and semiretired from talismongering.  But she still has a network of magic contacts and provides a few preferred customers with access to her various magical finds.  Jan Schaefer went out of his way to protect one of her grandsons, Boris, when Boris tried his hand at smuggling. Boris has since left Germany, but he feels like he could have been in serious trouble if Jan had not come back for him during a firefight.  Naturally this earned a place in Kati's heart.  She has repaid Jan with access to several powerful fetishes, but either of them could call on the other for a favor in the future.  She does a little business "Nur bei Termin", by appointment only, from her shop "Mode Drdla" (prounounced mow-duh dirdluh, translates as "Drdla Fashions") in the ground floor of her apartment building near Unter den Linden, between Alexanderplatz and the Tiergarten.

adzling

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« Reply #18 on: <11-02-15/0938:47> »
<00c> xclnt post, +1 karma! <ooc>

Wyt

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  • Before the black...comes the wight...
« Reply #19 on: <11-03-15/0128:01> »
Audio Log---Initializing

I remember...a lot actually...when my whole family died...everyone I knew...carried off into an abyss known as death. There wasn’t much…There wasn’t…how do I put this…Life was gone. I remember my mother teaching the Shinto ways of summoning fox spirits to aid our training. I remember my father encouraging me to be more like my brother and to learn the ways of the sword. I remember Uncle Taka would give me pieces of paper and we would do origami with them. I remember my brother showing me what It meant to be Kageyama, a…demon of shadows. I remember the sudden crash of glass that came from the roof; the sounds of gun fire; the screams of my clan from pain and agony; the movements my father made as he slashed enemy after enemy with a steak knife he was using to chop onions with; the creatures my mother summoned as they ripped throat by throat, as the blood simply dripped…like a waterfall in spring. I remember the chaos, the conflict, the blood, the clanging of blades, and mostly the smell of death. I remember being grabbed by a black hooded figure, a hand unknown to me, hostile, then my uncle, diving towards me, his hand on fire, seemingly not burning; thrusting his hand towards the hand that grabbed me, burning and drilling through bone and cartilage like a hot knife or a welding torch. I remember a man walking through the front door holding two of my clans, my family members, by the throat as they dangled lifelessly. His suit was silver, his facial features seemed generic and constantly moving like some kind of disguise spell. His power and speed were overwhelming. He grabbed my father by the shoulder, and all I could hear were the sounds of crackling bone and screams of anguish. I’ve become all to familiar with this sound now. I remember this man thrusting his hands into my father’s stomach and pulling his intestines out with ease. My poor mother, stunned, shaken, distraught, confused, no thoughts to comfort her, nor bring her to reason. She stood up faced me and my brother, and told us to run. Her body glowed with a yellowish orange aura, she held her hand out, and suddenly me and my brother were on the streets. Our temple in distant view, in that mountain, at least for a second. Fire, explosions, rain of embers, all could be seen on this dark wet street. Our home was obliterated, destroyed, all that remained were screams, and charred remains. I was only 5 then, my brother was 10. We ran, followed protocol, I was to young to know protocol, but my brother knew it. He used our fathers contacts to get places, and eventually get to another branch of our clan. It was there I stayed for 12 years, learning our clan’s ways, and attempting to learn about what happened to our home. I had learned during that time, that I was part of a lineage of assassins and that our home was destroyed by another clan. I didn’t really care once I learned, nothing changed for me as it was. It didn’t matter until I was old enough to assist my brother with “missions.” I was excited that day, it was the first time I got to hunt with my brother, help him. He took on a father role for me since that day. He taught me all there is to know, all there was to know and how to do it. My brother built a reputation to his killing name, they called him “Wisp” as whenever he needed to kill someone, there was never any blood or trace of a death; it was as if the person just went to sleep. People quickly starting realizing with the small blade wounds, cut perfectly to the point that blood would not leak that it was an assassins doing, and the wisp works as a guide in folktales. My brother was the guide to the afterlife, the wisp. A cool name, I thought when I was younger, but its names like that, that don’t instill fear, dread, or nervousness. I learned this when my brother failed his mission due to no one knowing how frightening he could be. We both went in, I took care of the smaller guards, he almost surgically killed the tougher opponents. But the target was waiting, we were revealed through one of our own clan for a profit. My brother drew his weapon, bullets began to shatter, and he looked like a professional. A security guard came up to the room, at the sound of the bullets, he saw my brother attacking people, slitting throats and arteries. I didn’t see him, he was in my blind spot, I was busy covering my brothers back, shooting the other guys that were out of my brothers immediate reach. The security guard fired his gun, 9 times in my back but I didn’t feel a single a bullet. This security guard didn’t know who I was, or who my brother was, or any man here, he just shot at whatever seemed most threatening. If he knew my brother was an assassin he probably would have froze up, left the room and called for backup. But instead he shot because he did not know who we were. To this day I don’t have a single bullet wound on my back, because you see…I took none of those 9 bullets, no instead my brother moved as fast as he could to save me. He took 1 of those bullets right to the heart, and demolished the other 8. He wasn’t fast enough to stop the first bullet, so he took the shot, jumped right in the way, he didn’t even know he was shot. He turned and faced me, every enemy in that room fell down at the same time, dead, cold. His face looked just like theirs, flushed, pale, panicked. He asked me what was wrong, and I guess the pain in his chest began to throb, because he looked down towards his shirt. That hole was there, blood slowly starting the escape. I can still see his bewildered face as he fell towards the ground…dying. He gave me his sword, his only real possession, and told me to get revenge for our family. “Make the family proud, and take care of my body, no trace, remember?” yeah, that’s what he said. I remember leaving, quickly, eyes blurry, from the wind and tears, as I ran down the side of the building with his body in my arms. I lost the ability to trust my clan since the betrayal, I still work with them, one of them gives me missions and I go do them, in return I get paid, information and money. In fact he is the one who paid me to come kill you. I don’t normally speak to my targets, don’t normally talk about myself either, sorry about that its just, it’s the anniversary of my brothers death. Its been 4 years to the day. Understand, that unlike my brother I will not be quick in your death. You are a therapist, and you know peoples secrets, well one of those people has paid my contact, to pay me, to kill you. Unlike my brother, The Wisp, I am not here to guide you to a peaceful death. I am the man who will watch you bleed out in agony, there is no salvation, only your death.

Other man’s voice, breathing quickly, raspy, almost as if in subtle pain from a lower abdomen wound, “please ill do…ill do anything! just let me go, I wont say a word, ill start a new life! Be like your brother, the Wisp, remember!”

“sorry, nothing personal, just business, and business is booming…”*sudden slashing sounds can be heard along with the sound of screaming and heavy panting*

Well now that your bleeding out, ill tell you my name, not my real name of course, but the kind of name my brother had. He was the wisp, but I haunt my enemies till they die, they are aware of my presence, they know to fear me when I arrive, they know who is coming for them. The creature that feast on your dreams, that’s impossible to kill, that’s born out of intense desire of revenge, they call me… The Wight.

Audio Log----End

adzling

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« Reply #20 on: <11-03-15/0951:29> »
<ooc> nice background story post, +1 karma! Next time a few paragraph breaks perhaps? ;-) <ooc>
« Last Edit: <11-03-15/1026:55> by adzling »

Jan Schaefer

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« Reply #21 on: <11-07-15/0116:05> »
During the time you've known Jan (pronounced "yawn" or "yon"), you've learned that the dwarf likes to look easily overlooked and easily underestimated.  He’s also usually wearing shabby clothes, and looking generally unemployed, underfed, unwashed and ungroomed.  His rare smiles are sad but often gripping and intimate, engaging you with unexpected force.  He is reasonably well muscled despite his habit of eating nasty bland street food in large quantities. 

Jan conceals a couple of fetishes and a small amount of other magical gear under his trench coat or armored jacket.  The magical gear has a vaguely druidic look, with a mix of found-art urban detritus along with the usual bird feathers, small skulls, and nifty polished rocks and ores.  Easily accessible under the coat he also likes to carry a machine pistol, and he totes along a worn and patched green bag (somewhere between a gym bag and a duffel) with an AK 97.  The AK is usually wrapped in a few T shirts to reduce noise and soften the occasional bump against furniture. 

Jan prefers lager.  If only ale is available he’ll drink it, but occasionally make faces while doing so.  Cheap Turkish style soykaf, abysmally cheap sweet wine, and also strong Russian style tea.

After you've known each other for a while (probably after about two missions that go loud), he finally opens up a little. 

"My magic?"  Jan considers a while, and takes a slow sip of his lager.  "Ach" (pronounced with a thick accent, sounding like "awk" or "ock"), "Ok, I say that we known each other for some time haff.  I tell."  Another thoughtful pull on the beer.  "I have it on mostly from the guppies learnt.  Goopsies?  Jipsies?  Yes, GypsiesRoma.  Have I the right word?  It was in Marienbad." Mar-EE-un-butt is what it sounds like.  You notice that his English is worse than usual tonight.  He's probably not drunk, with that Dwarven constitution, but maybe he is distracted, or trying to decide how much to share.  He looks even more bleak and distant than usual.

"I read that it is similar by your Sioux or Witches.  In my home I am Strassenhexe, street witch, so called.  The gypsies learn magic here and there, from yoodisch" (does he mean Jewish, you wonder?) "and Catholisch and old folk traditions and Druids and even the elfs."  Seeing that you understand, he nods and continues.  "But unsimilar to Druids and many witches, I cannot spirits call.  I never that learned haff.  But I get by."  After seeing him in action a couple of times, you tend to agree. 

 
<00c> I will write more bio after checking in with Adam on some of the dates and historical events.  Jan is a multiple-times refugee within Germany who is scarred by losing family members one at a time during their multiple relocations.  He has not yet mentioned why or how he wound up in Hong Kong, evading the question without apparent emotion when it comes up. <00c>
« Last Edit: <11-07-15/0128:27> by Jan Schaefer »

adzling

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« Reply #22 on: <11-07-15/1057:45> »
<ooc> xclnt origin post +1 karma!

Titus

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« Reply #23 on: <11-07-15/1235:15> »
The Cabbie sits down, pouring over many volumes of arachiac texts mainlining coffee for about a week. The calls had been less frequent, so she decides to study how to hack hosts. During the process, she begins to see remote details on the Matrix she had never seen before.

To anyone else observing her, she looks like either a very desperate graduate student or a paranoid conspiracy theorist. Papers are pinned to the wall and scattered all over the floor to her room. Yes, physical papers. "You can't hack paper." She says to herself.

It was all to hack into an impenetrable system that when she was a kid, no one thought could be hacked. She didn't even do anything when she got there. Getting in was good enough. The people teasing Cabbie for being a slow hacker were likely add dead anyway (she lost contact years ago), but it meant a lot to her to get in.

She cleans her tracks and logs out. She cleans up and acts like everything's normal.

Jan Schaefer

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« Reply #24 on: <11-07-15/2229:50> »
On the ride to Disneyland, Jan mutters "it could be us."  "What?" Cabbie asks while merging left into the slow lane.  She has to focus a little harder than usual on the offramp, because traffic is all going the wrong way from her reflexes and years of experience. Jan speaks up more clearly.  "I said, that it us been could have.  Working security, for a boss we know for two or three months.  Blown up and shot down for on the wrong side being.  I am happy it is not us, but of course.  Does it not affect you?"  He waits for a response. 

adzling

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« Reply #25 on: <11-08-15/1200:53> »
<ooc> yup you're right that could have been you guys. The question is, how would you stop that happening to your team? Nice work yesterday folks ;-) <ooc>

Wyt

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« Reply #26 on: <11-12-15/0216:31> »
-----Journal Entry--Unknown 15

I got to do a run with some friends…well…acquaintances. Its been a while since I got to do a simple shadow run. Generally, its all about making myself known, or sneaking towards my target(s); laying waste to their defenses; and killing everyone there. This time the job was more than an assassination. Those are fun, easy, since you can just think on your feet. I laughed a little as the team I was placed with put so much planning in their goal. They don’t understand that plans can change on a moments notice. Well they learned quickly once things started to not go as planned. I watched the subtle signs of panic originate in the team’s minds, I simply waited, waited for the plan to get back on track. No matter what our enemies did, there was no escape from me. You learn in the assassination business not to panic, even when looking down the barrel of a gun, or fighting a spirit specifically summoned to erase you from existence.

These experiences change you, make you patient. They don’t make you think of backup plans, no…they heighten your reflexes, your instincts, your need to survive. If your instincts aren’t kicking in, warning you, then everything is going to be fine. I’ve learned to trust my subconscious, put my self on auto pilot and focus on my primary objectives. Ambushing another group of shadowrunners, so simple. Most shadowrunners, don’t know me yet, or even know my reputation. It makes killing so easy when people underestimate you.

My enemies today, they got to see the real me, only problem is, so did my allies. Once my enemies van was tipped over, instinct took over. And as I said, I always listen to my instincts. I drew my brothers blade, ran towards the van, vaulted, right on to the top. My light body makes it easy to move around, especially when its be trained to move faster, quicker, than everybody else. I wanted to startle my enemies a little, I tried to make it dark as night in that van. They scurried out of it like insects, scared of a little darkness. I had a feeling they were hiding waiting for someone to make a mistake, so they could make their escape. Running on top of the van, like a trained assassin, silent with every step, I knee slid towards the front, low and behold. 3 people getting ready to load their guns; no one expects an aerial assault, it’s a natural blind spot for any creature, that’s why I specialize in it. I kicked off the van towards them, twisting my body in mid air, as my blade found the necks and shoulders of my enemies. My first victim carried no weapons, like a fool. I could feel his power, he probably thought he was skilled enough in melee combat to defeat any enemy with his bare hands. I guess he never learned how to catch a blade.

A teammate of mine tried to warn them to surrender, before it got so hectic. She has seen me fight before, but I don’t think she has ever seen the real me, my real skills. Last time it was just some junkies, but these enemies were trained just as well as we were. I landed on the tip of the van after my surprise attack, then I felt a bend in the physical plane. A quick glance I could tell it was a spirit, and I watched as the ground under it began to corrode. It was quick, tried to attack me immediately, almost as if it understood who the real threat was. It struck with precision, but this isn’t my first time battling a spirit, so I closed my eyes, sensed it, and parried each blow. To my surprise however it seemed to be injured immediately after I parried its attack. A whip could be seen stripping the acidic back of this creature. It was more than impressive, made me curious whether the whip was enchanted, or if the user is just that good. One of the guys tried to run away, a teammate quickly cut off his escape route then played mind games with him; toyed with him, telling him she was trying to help, help save him. She bought me enough time to shoot him in the back with my grapple gun, and drag him towards me.

They were interrogated later; I was surprised at the skill a teammate shown in the art of interrogation. She knew how to push for answers, how to lay out a rope of hope, only for the rope to be a serpent of trickery. We had a technomancer too, first time I’ve seen one of those. She hacked a host in seconds, I understand why the world is starting to fear them more than anyone else. We got that part of the job done, but the party isn’t over. We still got a few more things to do, and there’s whispers of a man who instills fear in well known shadowrunners. Its funny though, one thing about whispers…there’s always someone doing the whispering…
This man is fairly well known as a man who can hold himself, defeat a group of 5 shadow runners with ease, well…he has never met this team…nor has he ever met…me…

This enemy will understand…before the black…comes the wight…

End journal entry----last accessed :Unknown
Don't go to these docks for a day, unless you want to tread water.

Wyt

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« Reply #27 on: <11-12-15/0239:56> »
So out of character, i think it would be cool, to have a team name, since its important to gain reputation. If my team has any ideas, that would be sweet, if left to me it would be something ninja-y, or proverbial, maybe a little mythical, like "Mists" or "Dawns" i am a fan of two or one word team names. Suggestions?! Found a cool picture for our team, just gotta photoshop a little more so i (aka the guy on the right) look more ninja like, and Jiao gets her red dress, unless someone else has other suggestions on the picture

adzling

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« Reply #28 on: <11-12-15/1439:51> »
<ooc> nice run recap +1 karma! Team name eh? Be my guest, brainstorm awaY! <ooc>

Jan Schaefer

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« Reply #29 on: <11-12-15/2136:33> »
Pausing to reflect on the mission, Jan congratulates himself and the team on thorough and careful planning.  As always, having a step-by-step plan is what brought success.  From the sound of things, if Ganymede had been part of the combat, it might have ended very differently.  His underlings were not as deceived as would have been ideal, nor as surprised as they could have been.  Ganymede's intellect and perspective as a team leader might have allowed them to smell the rat when the HK police included an anglo dwarf with a German accent along with a not-very-convincing conversation with the team's Mandarin-speaking "officer".  And his primary asset seems to be speed- that might have changed everything

But they were sufficiently deceived, and sufficiently surprised.  The plan to locate the van worked flawlessly; the bomb went off with the perfect amount of force to rattle and disorient its occupants; the combat went briefly and smoothly, with overwhelming force tipping the balance almost before the first shots were fired. 

Yes, Jan thinks, proper planning once again led to near-perfect execution, no matter what the cocky elf with the swords has to say about it.  Having all the right assets in the right place and the right time made the separation, the capture, and the interrogation work like a Swiss watch. Or a German train schedule that railroaded the Olaya cartel straight to hell. 

Jan musters his concentration and ends his musings, and begins casting the spells that will allow him and the elf to hide in the back of the Disneyland van.  Time to take one more passenger to hell.
« Last Edit: <11-12-15/2145:38> by Jan Schaefer »