No worries boss. Good luck guys.
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Of course now I kind of want to run a second table where the two teams effect each other's team and once in a while run with or against each other.
Well, there is enough interest we could probably start a second table... not that I am volunteering for that job. Have enough on my plate right now.
Sounds good boss. I tend to run into that issue with some characters. You have an idea who they are, but it is hard to give that life when you aren't actually reacting to a scene or such.
Expanded Background:
Ok, extended background. Best friend is a minor deckhead, kind of why he didn't see it coming. BC is keeping the both of them afloat as best he can, and still feels loyalty to his only boyhood chum to have stuck with him. As to enemies, none that he knows of, he is just a kid from the Nog thrust into a city he doesn't know much about. He has been in a few fights lately, the Skraacha are trying to recruit him into the bloodsports, got caught in the middle of a rumble between the Ladies and the Prowlers, has built a reputation for himself as a tough fighter. As to getting back at those who fleeced him and his mate, not much to do their. His buddy got fooled by a netcon promising BC a shot at fame and fortune in the augmented sports leagues... kind of a send us the money to set this all up and buy your own ticket in kind of deal, they spent all their savings and ended up stranded in Seattle. BC has more or less started dating a simsense pornstar, minor talent not much higher than the amateur variant, but the two of them are at least affectionate... though he is pretty sure he just fulfills some weird kink she has. Story time with BC: Never fails, out at a bar to try and drown my ails and some fluthered dosser think he can throw shapes. Then after he done his bit an had a knock at it, his mates all try pile on to save face an none of them can sound out the bits. Now this slag just chimes in like she my ringer, shouting at them boyos, they a weak bit of toss an they couldn't whip me in a fair one... not that they could have me beat even if I were a bit knackered and locked hard at the time. So there I am, four gangers lashing me like the rain, and I just have to crack on without killing them. Eventually they realize they would have it easier bringing down the city walls with a bent spoon, and I put them down for a nap one after another. Well, that got Elaina right, and she been my mot since. Managed to pull some eyes on my skills too, now I got this offer and I'm going to give it the lash and see where it takes me.
@gm I'll get you a story and more background info up in a bit.
Alright, Profile adjusted. Background:
BC has hit rock bottom, a promising career in the augmented fighter league down the drain before it could begin, accounts drained, girlfriend left, only friend left in the world is his childhood friend and would be manager Charles. Neither are sure how they fell for a scam of this magnitude, and in the end it doesn't even matter. Now is the time to roll up sleeves and get down to work trying to make a name for oneself. Something other than Bobby Connolly, I know, minuscule background, but I think it leaves a lot of room to flesh out the character as we go.
You had me at shadowrun chummer. I will adjust to the creation guide given.
"Quick, quiet, no problems."
Cool, gangs all here. Now, let's do this.
Catcher yawns with am air of boredom. "Yep."
[B]"Lad me chum, we all want to stay out of sight. That is kinda the point."/[b]
Ok, I'm back. Give me a bit to get caught up and I will post tonight.
I will not be able to post again till Sunday... and probably won't get a good post in today as I have to sleep now. I meant to warn everyone earlier, but the lead up to Rosh Hashanah got away from me. Bot as needed.
It's cool. I forgot that passive characters don't work so well in PbP. Funny thing is I don't see this guy going down to be replaced any time soon.
Did we lose some people or did conversation just die?
"Now that is strange phrasing. Is it something you can do, in which case we wouldn't need you in the room, or is it something that just happens, in which case we now have to worry about who is following your every move and doing the dark dump of anything you do."
As if by magic, a large form darkens the doorstep. Catcher stomps forward staring directly at Lyst, a look of frustration on his face. "Ya had ta do this today? couldn't do it yesterday? Couldn't do it tomorrow? You had ta choose the poor Saint's day of love an romance like? Yer a right miserable sot."
Catcher is not having a good day.
Catcher was really not having a good day of it. He wasn't being allowed back in the house. His girl was not even talking to him. Oh, it was going to be a hard day. "Come on baby, it's work, I can't help that." The Irish Troll bellowed at the house. "Ya know I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to" Silence. "You can't be like this hon... you know I'm crazy about you. Sweaty, come down and we can have a talk. I love you hon" It started snowing shredded shirts. "Oh come on, ya don't have ta go an do that." A cast iron skillet comes down amidst the flurry of rent garments, bouncing off the Troll's stomach. "El, don't do anything hasty El. just come down an talk is all ya have ta do." An urn peaks out the window, a suspiciously bronze urn with the face of an motherly woman etched in to it. "El NO, NOT ME MUM!!! Wait, just wait. Please. The dresser, go to the dresser. Open the dresser. Please just open the dresser El. The blue jogging pants, the ones you hate. Right pocket just pull out what is inside" Catcher drops to his knee as a squeal of pure happiness comes shrieking forth from an upstairs window. "El, you make me the ..."
No worries, the character really is an in case of problem pull tab kind of character.
Still here, just waiting for the legwork to be done and the milk run to begin.
Catcher shrugs and finishes the last bite of his sandwich. "Is what it is, just try to keep your head down and we will get along all fine like." With those sage words of advice, the large troll proceeds to move out of the establishment.
"Bit of a talker aint ya, whole life story on the table like. Look. I'm just here to make a paycheck and go home. If you guys can keep it quiet then I won't actually have to do anything this run, if not well..." The troll leaves the implications hanging in the air.
Catcher watches as lyst and block head out without saying a word. Then, after finishing the sandwich he had been working on, he looks pointedly at the two remaining runners while pocketing his new cred stick. "Well they seem a right happy pair of halfer-drek. So, you can call me Catcher, short for bullet catcher, all nice and chummy like. Does exactly what it says on the tin. Hey, scales, ya sound like a tans ta me. Ya from the islands too?"
"You pay, I hang out in case things go t*~% up, if things fall apart I make sure people get out alive... that cover it?"
Catcher watches as the young orc barges his way in and orders. "Roight, guess I should be getting a bit as well." He quickly looks over the menu and sighs. "I'll take a sandwich and a water. Myco, not soy. Lettuce, onion, tomato... and an order of spuds, even an ossified gimp can't hose those up." After getting what he ordered, Catcher makes his way over to the wee gnomish one. Sitting next to her, he takes up most of the side of the table. "Nice one for it."
forgot the roll for Starting ¥. so 1700
Shane trudges through the crowd on his way to the meet. Barely registering the people sliding around him, lost as he is in thought. Ok lad, you got this. Your the bullet catcher.... no, you are BULLETCATCHER. You are the wall, the man, the last true feen. You got a brand to build, you step in and take this. Lain's counting on me to bring home some scratch. Bulletcatcher pushes his way into the establishment, looking for all the world a Mr. Johnson in his own right.
Shane Walsh stopped a second as a small chirp informed him of a message. Pulling his com out, he thumbed through to see what it was, the sight of promised pay bringing a smile to his lips. He takes but a second to plant the last of his future cabbage and broccoli crops before rising and brushing the dirt from his hands. "Hey babe... " The loud troll voice carried back through the house's open door. "I'm going to be busy starting tomorrow. Gotta make some quid." A few seconds pass and Shane looks down at his com. "Nah I don't care, a job's a job and I can't be picky like. Just gonna have ta tell ya ma that we will see her some other time." Another flash on the com. "Because I want ta talk to you. If I wanted to just buzz ya all the time we wouldna be shacking." Another chirp. "Whist ya lass. I'm bout tapped an ya like playing the house wif, so I work." Silence.. More silence... Shane looks down at his com.... "Ah come on, it ain't worth gettin in a huff. You know you are my reason for life. Don't be robbing me breath now." Silence continues..... "All right, when this over we take your ma to that class joint you fancy so much." Chirp......
Interbay area closer to Queen Anne's Hill.
Yorick, if you want to physad, i can rebuild in to a techno real quick if that is what is holding us up.
Coming down to the wire. Really interesting group coming together here.
Greatest flaw?: Has trouble backing down from a fight. Who would mourn you?: No one. Mother is dead, never knew me dad. Ell, me old woman only bullin fer me cause her box only slot troll knowwhatamean. She have her a cry for bout a day before she would be shifting some other poor spanner that slag.(Actually, his girlfriend is quite fond of him and would be heartbroken.) Cliffs notes story: Boxer, boxer gets augments. Boxer self defenses a drunk who tried to shoot him over his girl, newly dead drunk turns out to be a high ups nephew. Boxer blackballed. Boxer needs a job to keep his home and his girl. Boxers ex-manager has connections to find side work. Script: In reach? Yes=Punch No=Shoot
Give me a sec, I have to do a rebuild for karma. Going to rebuild as street sam instead of brawler adept.
Ok folks, I am sorry but due to life I am going to have to bow out of all games. I really am sorry.
BC shifts slightly, the slight movement seeming as to the first shift of snow before an avalanche descending. A moment later there is the crack of broad knuckles further adding to the metaphor. He seems to be watching something off in a corner and any looking in his eyes can see the shadow of movement play a crossed his iris. Dark rage brews beneath the surface.
Gonna be unable to post till Sunday. Bot me if need be.
"Nah, just bored sitting round waiting for the drek to hit fan. Ever since the SK job I been waiting for our karma ta even out.."
BC waits on the others to get finished. So much wasted effort when all you need is a strong pair of hands and the ability to fight your way t someone's gun. Why rely on tech and spirits when you can rely on yourself.
"Sounds good ta me."
"I'll head with ya red. Am always ready to run so y'all jus got ta play catchup right. Not like ya gonna need da fancy. I can jus go in an crack skulls an geek did chief."
BC gives shade a quizzical look."Ya don't need ta be looking for a sniper chips, ya just watch for muzzle flash and I'll point in the direction I feel any heavy rounds coming from."
"So y'all want I should just walk in and draw fire? Nothing sounded to painful in dat bunch."
As the words leave the Johnsons mouth our late member finally makes his appearance. "It is what I do for a living.” The oppresive looking that is BC moves to take up a couch. "Sorry boys, had a bit of a brush coming in... nothing I couldn't handle. Took me forever to pull the .45 rounds from everywhere they lodged."
Yep, they streamlined the magi types.
Only if you build them that way. Mystic adepts bridge the gap with just as much magic as a mage and the powers of an adept. Awesome.
Ahem... Mystic Adept and purchase improved reflexes and improved sense, then never worry about buying up the adept side ever again. problem solved. It actually works better than sacrificing essence ever did now. Although if you really want to go the old fashioned mage on the decline route go right ahead.
This is why we can't have nice things.
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