About Jay GouldHandle/Street Name: Jay Gould Description: Medium build, brown hair, small beard, and eyes, handsome on close observation. In plain clothes quite unremarkable. For social biz, likes to dress in an affected style reminiscent of the Weimar Republic. Name: Ernst Schmidt
Special Abilities: Build:
Priorities A- Skills (50) ; B- Attributes (27) ; C- Resources (90k nuyen) ; D- Magic (0) ; E- Human Attributes: Body 4 ; Quick 5 ; Str 4 ; Char 6 ; Int 5 ; Will 4 ;
Active Skills (50/50 spent) Spoiler:
Athletics ... 3 Diving ...... 2 Edged Weap .. 4
Pistols ..... 5
Computer .... 2
Street Etiquette .... 5 House Ruling 6 points spent as specialization
Car ......... 5 Knowledge Skills (25/25 spent) Any suggestions here? Chem doesn't seem quite right. See also Interests. Spoiler:
Gang Identification . 4
Biotech(First Aid special) ... 3 (2/4) Background Knowledge (Active Skills -3 ) Language Skills (0/6 spent) Spoiler:
Not sure how costs play out here. Does he get english for free? I'm going to just put target values so we can talk.
English (5) 4/6 Specialized in cityspeak
Interests
Spoiler:
Tuba (and gigging in oompa bands is one income stream)
History, especially US Civil War and German Weimarr republic. Tailors his own clothes in style of Weimarr (essentially late Victorian clothing style, slim fitting suits, heavy overcoats) incorporporating armor. Homeopathy (so German) Drug effects and interactions (for the benefit of his client-friends) Cybertech and deckers -- it's like mythology for him, even though he has little talent Gear:
Armor Vest Lined Coat Ordinary Clothes
Knife
Walther Palm Pistol (2 rounds, 4L)
Fichetti 500 (12 rounds, 6L)
Defiance T-250 shotgun (5 rounds, short-barrel, slugs 9M, flechette 9S)
Flashpak
Earplug cellphone
Pocket Flashlight
Datajack, alpha
Contacts
Lifestyle (Qty is months paid in advance)
Cash remaining: 20,410
Background, psyche, Tilnar's hook:
Thumbnail: Born and raised in the greater Seattle sprawl. His father, Victor Schmidt, was a mechanic in a corp motorpool who lost his job when his first child, a daughter, was born a troll. Dad still curses his racist supervisor, Wendell Buckley, who got him fired on false pretenses. (At least that's dad's story.) Jay was born seven years later. Started playing tuba at age 8 with his father's oompa band. Mom, Irene Schmidt nee Daudh, died when he was 10. His sister, Gunilla, who took to calling herself Boudicca six years after Ernst's birth, was long gone by then. Dad lost interest in 'most everything except motor vehicles. Ran a garage out of a storefront in a derelict strip mall. Some small rooms framed by his father in the store's interior serve as home to them both. No lift. Dad jackhammered and hand dug two pits to roll cars over. Free to come and go by the back door; the front is for garage business. After mom died, Ernst pretty much raised himself, mostly on the streets whenever he could escape working for dad in the garage. When he was 14, he discovered marijuana -- not for intensive personal use although he did inhale on occasion, but as a wedge into nicer social circles. Since then he's been hustling and gigging to make a living. He's expanded his pharmaceutical offerings to include speed and mild hallucinogens. Nineteen now, he's dissatisfied with his life and looking for a big score. Personality/Philosophy: Ernst tries to be outgoing, the friendliest man in the room. In his Jay Gould persona, he fancies himself an unscrupulous 'businessman' who will stick at nothing to achieve a life-style of luxury. The fact that he won't deal hard drugs belies that statement. He does have a rudimentary conscience that he tries hard not to acknowledge. However when frightened, he may do terrible things. Who knows, he may reincarnate Jay Gould yet. The Hook: On one of her visits back home Gunilla, who had gotten involved with eco-terrorists, got into a jam. Your Guardian got her out of it. Ernst doesn't know many of the details, but he was home when the Guardian deposited her by the side door of the garage. Gunilla now runs with the Tree Trolls, a small nature-gang. Campaign Notes: ]
Characters: Figment - decker - tall, almost gaunt-looking elf, with long spiky black hair, dark indigo skin, and sky-blue cybereyes with no pupils or irises. Onyx - The female elf straightens from her relaxed slouch and replaces her papery book into its slot on the bookshelf when Jay enters. Her outfit is bland, nice jacket over a catsuit, black and charcoal -- suitable for casual corp wear, a walk through decent shopping areas, or dinner at a nice restaurant, eminently forgettable. The matching silver and grey intricate geometric designs painted around her eyes only serve to highlight the midnight color of both her skin and eyes. Her face is a mask; her husky alto, as cool as it can get. Raptor - possesses a solidly built frame, and towers over most humans. Enhancements to his eyes and faint scars in his skin suggest significant cyberware modification. His garb is simple and functional, and appears designed to maximize his freedom of movement. Danny - You see a small, muscular man, with a shaven head, a nose that has obviously been broken more than once, and large, dark eyes. He seems nervous, and his eyes keep darting towards the exit. He is wearing a black synth leather jacket, a black t-shirt, black combat trousers, and a pair of very old baseball boots Jay Gould - The young man who just came through the door is slim, as his deliberately tidy suit, whose only fashionable feature is its black color. His shirt, which is very white, with high tiny pointed collar tips, is mostly concealed by a tight-fitting vest trimmed with gold piping at edges and pockets. Short dark hair, thin beard and moustache. Shoes that were quite probably shiny before sojourning to Infernal. Opening: Club Infernal in the Barrens
Guardian - A dark-haired woman, no more than two fingers under 2 meters tall, and at least 80 kilos of muscle enters the room, her movements graceful as she does. "Hoi, Danny. Raptor. Onyx. Figment. Jay. ..." She smiles as she greets each of you by name and her green eyes -- halfway between jade and emerald -- reflect the smile. Her face is very familiar... maybe a little older -- a little more ashen and a little more tired than you recall, but then, when you think back to last time, her actions may have had an impact on how you remembered her -- and yet, still quite striking and strong - like an ancient sculpture. She's also Mr. Johnson for this run. The First Job : Recover stolen property.
1. She leans forward and slides slides a golden disk across the table to Onyx, about 30mm in diameter and maybe 3mm thick. "That coin has an astral signature - it was part of the Big D's hoarde, and something that was passed down to me through a number of shell companies in the late President's will... it seems he approved of the actions of Seattle's Guardian Angel, and wanted to help without getting me killed when I went to collect. I bring this up because there were 50 of these in the safehouse, and 100-year-old golden coins aren't terribly common... The sort of thing that would stand out if someone were looking for a buyer... and ones with a dragon's astral imprint are probably even harder to come by." The coin bears the image of a human woman wearing a crown (marked Queen Juliana) on one side, and a tulip bud and the year 1952 on the other. 2. She then slides a pistol across the table to Raptor, "I know it looks mostly like a Colt Manhunter, but that's by design. It's a custom-built weapon, internal smartlink, extended clip, and heavy bore -- that is to say, more stopping power than most heavy pistols -- and sculpted grip to my hand. There was one of those in with the backup combat gear. A drekking chiphead would probably trade it for a beetle to get his fix, and someone who recognized its value would either sell it for a decent price or be looking at someone to swap the grip." She smiles, "I'll, uh, need that back before you go. It's part of my evening wear for my prior engagement." 3. She slides a small object to Jay, "Here's the actual key to the place, address is encoded on it... it's only a few clicks from here, still in Redmond. I'd been paying a local gang -- the Chromed Skills -- to do a bit of security, but after a year of building tension, they've been in all out gangwar with the Silver Ring Triad. I've still been paying, mind, but I'm thinking they've been busy. Still, one of them might have seen something." She sighs, then says, "An important bit of information, though -- the gang -- and everyone else associated with that safehouse thinks it belongs to the shadowrunner Fallen Star.... because, well, it does. Like I said before, being Guardian doesn't pay the bills... or, at least, it didn't before the President's gift." She looks each of you in the eye and says, "That bit of data, that's novahot paydata that could probably get you a nice reward. I'm trusting you with it. Because, well, I have to. So you're not working for Guardian, you're helping out Fallen Star. She's not Guardian. There is no Guardian, it's an urban myth, right?" Chromed Skulls: The Chromed Skulls are a go-gang that claims a territory of about 4 square klicks in Redmond - about 6 km from here, towards Glow City. The gang's mostly metahuman (orks, trolls and dwarves) but open to anyone with a gun and a bike who can keep up. Leader's a dwarf that goes by Rhino, claims he's an ex-shadowrunner. Known for chrome helmets, gunmetal grey jackets, a skull mark on the back, sometimes out of chrome studs Chromed Skull members: Rhino, their leader, or his kid, Trike... er, Triceratops. Don't call him Trike unless he says you can. I won't send you to their HQ, especially not with them on edge, but you can usually find a few of them in Finnegan's Wake, I'm sure one of 'em could help arrange a meet, though you might need to pick up the bar tab... at the meet, too, come to think of it." Page 3. Party breaks up. Page 4. Meet Tox and the Night Cobras (an ork gang possibly affiliated with the Night Cobras) outside a Stuffer Shack convenience store. Jay scores a better gun and some explosive rounds. Paety scores some burner phones. Page 5. Meet Chrome Skulls at Finnegan's Wake. (bar) The two motorcyles and four men drive through the streets without much incident - at least, not anything out of the unexpected -- torn up asphalt and ferrocrete, rubble, a need to detour around a make-shift barricade.... ...making the trip to Finnegan's Wake take 10 minutes, rather than 3. Still, you made it. The bar's part of a three-storey grey brick building, the sort that probably used to have a dozen or so apartments on each floor above... And a storefront or two on the ground floor -- these days, the bar -- though, from the pulled down metal door and grate to the right, there may still be some sort of shop here too - though there's no sign to indicate what it might be. Three large bikes, each about twice the weight of Figment's Rapier, are parked on what was probably once the sidewalk about 4 meters from the door to the bar. Someone's painted lines in lime green, marking off spots on the road - diagonal parking. The bar itself, from what you can see, doesn't look like much - its facade's got about half the charm of the run-down Stuffer Shack you just visited. What used to be a painted sign extends above a large clouded window, but the letters are worn and faded in the sun. Instead, only a single green faux-neon sign -- blurry against the smoked glass -- announces "Finnegan's Wake", with a four-leaf clover beneath it, though this hardly seems the sort of place blessed by good luck. Meet Siobhan -- beautiful female barkeep with attitude
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