Geezer grins. "Oi, I'm not bleeding on that bloody floor. Bloody wood costs more than the damn place, love!", he shakes his head, standing up. "And I didn't lose the spanner. I just forgot it in that truck leaving for Aztlan!", he laughs out, standing up to take his coat. "I do owe you a dinner, love, so let's motor. At least there I won't have to do the bloody dishes.", he keeps on ranting.
OoC:
Sorry about the lateness in the posts, but I've mentioned I'm trying to move into a new place and paperwork's been pretty insane. I'm still not moved in yet, but I thought I'll post something in Gameplay, just so we can get that back on track!
Quick update - a particular individual managed to drek up my name on the tenancy agreement, so I'm currently in England, but without a place for my own yet while we get the paperwork sorted.
Ironically, that particular individual's last name is Talbot.
Hey guys! I'm in the process of moving for my new job, so I might be sketchy in the next couple of days. Just warning you, and I'll be moving on with a post ASAP.
Glad to see the GM back, and us getting this back on track. Geezer going into shadowrunning to help his business and household somehow strikes my fancy, so I decided to roll with it!
And speaking as a player, here, why is something telling me that that gang situation is a bit more complicated than it sounds...
"What do you mean, where's the McCulloch?", Geezer shouts back as Pam comes home, the expression on his face a mixture of confusion and anger. "Two weeks ago, you were sitting on that very couch, s&$~faced, and said that McCulloch, paraphrasing here, is piss in a bottle and you don't want it in your sight. So I drank the bloody thing! And it didbloody taste like piss in a bottle!", he shouts back. He stares at Pam with a blistering look, the moves next to the sink, putting on a lovely apron with a pattern of ducks and apples, turning on the water and starting to mumble to himself under nose. "Should have something in the emergency drawer. Help yourself while I wrap this up."I'm bloody buying a bloody dishwasher after this job's through.
Friendly Neighborhood Fixer wrote:
"First off, I don't know how the hell you meet half the people you do, but I'm not sure I want to. Just don't bring 'em round here unless they're looking to help or to buy."
Geezer grins, finally shuffling away from the sink as he wipes his hands in his shirt. Reaching over to the packet on the table, he takes a cigarette and lights it up, picking up a half-full beer bottle. "Love, there's one method of meeting folks that's been tried and tested for three bloody centuries." He lights the cigarette. "The pub."
Sitting down on the couch and putting his feet on the table, he gestures towards the window. "Long story short is, I got an offer from your lovely family, and they connected me with some of those "shadowrunners"., he says, his fingers forming quotation marks. "I was expecting the geezers to wear a lot more leather and punk haircuts, to be fair. Too many movies, I guess." He pauses for a moment, waiting to see a reaction. I guess it is dangerous. But we're running a gray business, mafia-owned chopshop.
"So one of those geezers in those colours wants a business hit, we keep the dosh, they get the street cred."He grins thuggishly. "A certain eloquent English gentleman even got them to toss in a grand and a half upfront, though." He takes another long sip, then stares through the window once more at the chopshop below. "That's going to help with the rough patch in the last couple of months, and we can even expand the bloody place, get more machinery, do more...", he shrugs. "stuff." He reaches over, grabbing the elf in an over the shoulder hug. "So. Pizza or Chinese?"
OoC:
Hey, GM! I hope you are feeling better now. I personally have been there, and I completely understand the delay. I was quiet, since I was rather busy and the game was quiet as well, but I was keeping track.
I'll note down Pam's knowledge for the future, and, of course, you can play the character! You seem to have gotten the concept pretty well, and I'll be looking forward for more of that.
I'd put my vote in the Paladin's camp, in that I do like SW (I just started playing a game of it, with Loup, to boot!), but I just like SW's system(s).
Now, if someone was to propose running a SWIZ game... *nudge*
I'll be interested, frankly.
@GM: I hadn't posted a Geezer response, since I mentioned that I'll be visiting the chopshop, and I won't be escorting the guys/gals/wizards. I'm still checking the forums a couple of times a day, and I'll get a post going as soon as I feel I can make a good one.
Thanks, FNF! I've actually read a long discussion about what kind of 'narrative power' the players possess - I assumed that both a city map and a venue review would be available to the characters, since, well, we all have them now. That being said, I won't assume anything solid, and I'll not plan for anyone or assume what any NPC's are doing! Still, if there's criticisms to be given, I'll take them at any time and any place.
Geezer shrugs. "Paranoia keeps people alive, but it's not good for the bank account, lads and lassies.", he shares. Turning to Paladin, he scratches his stubble. "You do Matrix gubbins, yeah? Maybe see Boston Municipality mainframe, see who owns the building, follow those breadcrumbs, you're the pro? You got the time, maybe run one of them data collecting programs with FaceTime, see what bigwigs have passed through the place." Reaching into his coat's pocket, Geezer draws out a pack of cigarettes, covered in texts in Arabic, puts one in his mouth and leaving the open pack on the table. "I'll give the missus a ring, I guess, she's the one with Boston in her blood.", he says, standing up and picking up his commlink.
Just Family Business things:
"Hey, love!", he barks out, exhaling the smoke. "No, hen, sober as the Queen, for now..."
"...He's what?! No, dove, the sorry geezer isn't sick, he's f#!&ing dry. I'll bet you my left b$+%!~* he's scratching his arms in his room right now..."
"Tell you what, don't bother with it. I'll take care of him, see if I can get him clean for a bit, and I'll give Raya a bonus for picking up his s$$@ in the garage. You ever heard of some newcoming gang, colours look like that fake cricket team your brother's always blabbing about, aye, them gits. See what you can find on them, I'll round up the paperwork after I'm home."
"...how many pages? T*@~. I'll get me a Trooper, then, don't worry about it. Cheers, love... Yeah, I'll see if I can't find a seat for that sushi place. You shrewd hag, you. Running me dry, here."
OoC/Rolls:
Trooper - British slang for Long Haul.
I'm using Pam as a contact regarding underworld information, and will offer to pay for it via meal/work/shifts/doing the dishes.
Geezer grins as Wraith's reaction to tea unfolds once more, and he finishes his cup with a loud sound of approval. "Sure, I could go for a pint, too, and it looks like you lot need some hair of the dog.", he comments. As Hugo offers to do his astral assessment, he grins. "Oi, aye, do the mage bits. That'd come in handy.", he assesses, before putting his commlink on the table. A trid image appears of Boston's map. "Roit, Constable, ladies and other assorted gentlemen. This is the place. Hm. 4.7 on the reviews, not too shabby. Let's go for 2.7 after we're done?", he grins in a particularly thuggish manner, accompanied with a low chuckle. "I've got a motor we can use, and we can all fit in. Could probably re-fit it, and then if need be, ditch it." He points to a parking lot nearby. "If I park it there the day before, we can use it to get away, and head towards S&&~esville.", he points to a notoriously bad neighbourhood. "HorizonMaps puts this as the route, but if some geezer knows Boston well enough, they are free to drive and navigate. I'm not car-crazy, myself."
He pauses, gesturing towards the last teapot on the table, and pours himself another cup. "So, we know the buses that go there, we can grab a couple to get there, then get ready for a dramatic entrance. I've got one in mind.", he grins, cracking his knuckles on his jaw once more, followed by his neck.
"As for the tosser giving us the job, I'll put out some feelers. Could even ask the missus, actually. Hiring some blokes to smash and grab would be decent for them, getting their name out, and getting some new blood, so he might be stand-up lad. Relatively speaking. And besides.", he mentions, tapping the table twice with his rather sizeable fist. "I mentioned I can punch through walls. Geezers smart enough to go through a fixer sounds like one who wouldn't s%~& in people like us' oats for 6 fat ones, know what I'm saying?"
Rolls:
nNowledge of that particular gang:4d6 ⇒ (4, 3, 1, 2) = 10They could be a gang. They could also be a very niche, hipster hurlg brewery. It's 50-50 at this point.
Geezer's plan - re-paint and plant car, go there by bus separated, coordinate strike via comms, then bust into the place, get the nyans and leave towards a barrens of sorts. (don't know if Boston has one). In the car he'd suggest removing the jackets, and hopefully ditching the pursuers, before splitting and skedaddling.
I'd imagine the by-product of heat of such ice-making machines might end up causing hurricanes somewhere else, since those gubbins produce more heat than they create via ice/cold water.
Building a wall (with or without making the hurricanes pay for it *wink* ) might be a bit better an option, but it'd still be more of a patch, rather than solving the problem, or finding a smaller-scale solution to it. Speaking from an engineer/amateur physicist's point of view.
But, hurricanes truly bad.
Even worse than DAMN INTERNET BURNING MY ENTIRE, FIVE PARAGRAPH, PLAN-DETAILING, QUALITY GEEZER-ING POST! I'll get on getting that in the thread in a couple of hours.
Geezer grins, clearly enjoying the sight of Wraith being rather tired of the Johnson's plan. "Jesus.", he mutters, tilting his head backwards as she reaches for the flask. "Sounds a tad bit s#@%e, love, got me there.", he says a second later, shrugging at the ganger. Though, robbing businesses without checking isn't the smartest move, love. You can run in after the day they emptied, you can run in one protected by the families, or you can hit mine. Geezer sends a tusky grin, putting a fist to his jawline until his knuckles crack. Last one's the worst.
Taking another sip from his tea, his eyes start darting around the place, fingers drumming on the table. "So. Eighty a pop, make it seventy for grub. If we're talking hundred seats, that's 30k in the register end of night, easily." He looks at the rest. "Not like a geezer can retire on that, but isn't the worst payday. Especially not if your guys can cough up something extra." Geezer nods at both Hugo and Wraith. "So like the short-tempered bird said, we need some dosh. But what you've got is some, wotsit, bonafide professionals in return."
"So this is the deal, yeah?", he says, leaning forward in a conspirational whisper. "You and your lot might be robbing the place for whatever reason. Maybe you'se have to be the toughest gang, or maybe just about having them piss you off, yeah? Don't care, myself, all noble goals." He shrugs. "You and your gang scrounge together, say, one and a half fat ones per head, fixer here included." He waves his hands, as if trying to paint the Johnson a picture. "And on your end, you get to have your brand seen punching through a damn wall, getting the money like a damn pro, and then punching through another, slightly thicker wall on the way out. If rep's what you're wanting, mate - can't beat that for cred."
OoC/Rolls:
That's Geezer trying to salvage a bad deal - I'm still towing the party line, so if people want to get another job, I'd be happy to finish this tea, and get oan wiv it. Negotiation(Bargaining):11d6 ⇒ (4, 1, 5, 5, 1, 1, 1, 3, 4, 6, 2) = 33
Glad to see this is back! Best of luck with computer issues GM - on a related note, I backed up all of my stuff today and got an SSD, so I should be alright for the foreseeable future.
Atlas, this is positively insane, and I LOVE IT!1!, but I'm a bit overstretched by now. I'll probably add it to my 'reading list', however!
Taking a long moment to sniff the tea, then to enjoy a long drink, Geezer sends a glance at both the Fixer and the Johnson when the task is given. Could do that. Well, I suppose this whole shadowrunning isn't all stealing a gubbin from a corp at all times, regardless what the trids say. Twirling the cup-side biscuit between his fingers, he points towards the Fixer. "Sure thing, mate. Knocking a business is easy.", he says, a smile appearing on his face. "I'd let someone other geezer do the threats, though, not too many Brummie gangs in Boston.", he chuckles, throwing the biscuit in his mouth. "So what's the place, and how much dosh are we talking?"And let's see what's the pay. After we know what it is, let's see if we can sell him the 'Geezer Special' extra., he thinks, wiping crumbs away from his chin.
Not rushing forward, GM. Also, the 'Geezer Special' is something I think might be able to apply in this situation, and I'd like to present it as 'an extra' for extra pay.
Wow! Thanks for the praise, Nick, but I'm not sure I'm that good - everyone in this game is pretty damn amazing!
Huh. That's a fun joint..., chuckles Geezer to himself as he opens the door and throws his finished cigarette outside. Sending a tusked grin in the direction of the gropers, he goes up the stairs to see the rest surrounding the table. Business up there, party downstairs. If I wasn't meeting a Johnson here, I might even bring the bird some day., he thinks, sitting on the table and popping his collar. A Union Jack t-shirt is visible under the man's heavy coat, as he cracks his knuckles, sitting next to Nyx, and nodding at both Tilt and the Johnson. "Do I bloody love Russian Caravan? I'll take my f$~#ing payment in the f+*!ing thing, mate.", he chuckles, taking a cup and sniffing it, before sitting forward. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson.", he says with a grin, rubbing his nose. Well, he doesn't look like what Johnsons usually look. Was expecting some corporate numpty.
Taking a long sip, he starts talking. "So, you lot already took care of security. So to the point. What's the job, Mr. Johnson?"
Realising they're out of soymilk, Geezer saunters back to the table with a scowl, giving his tea a sniff, then throwing back a sip with a grunt. Rubbing his face with a massive palm, he reaches into the plate, scooping his beans with a piece of bacon and starts chewing with delight. "Now that's a proper breakfast.", he relays to Pam, who sits next to an overflowing ashtray and a cup of coffee, the chemical smell of nail polish reaching Geezer's nose to prompt a frown. Finishing the plate in record time, he places his slippered feet on the table and reaches for a cigarette just as the commlink chirps in with a tune.
"Now that's a fancy sword.", she comments halfway through the message, letting Geezer chuckle. "Aye, I don't imagine that's for buttering muffins, love.", he replies. As the message finishes, she lets out a raspy laugh, exhaling the smoke through her nose. "Let the f*#$er know, if that fixing doesn't work out for him, we can surely put him in advertisement."
"Will do, hen.", Geezer replies, cracking his knuckles.
It wasn't a short post. I got the writing bug after my pause, it seems. @GM, I thought it was relatively realistic, and I tried to make it as believable as possible, considering Geezer's particular skillset, but if it irks you in terms of continuity, feel free to say it wasn't canon, or happened in the past.
"It's been proper fun.", Geezer mentions as the fixer leaves, then looks at the screen and the game commentary wrapping up. "Eh, gotta dash, my lovelumps. See you in the morrow, you lot.", he tells to the rest, as he leaves the bar.
Geezer's Shenanigans:
Geezer leaves the bar and approaches his car. Am I forgetting something?, he thinks to himself as he opens the door and sits down, buckling up. Probably nothing. Pressing the ignition button, he taps the steering wheel impatiently, waiting for the interface to turn green. There's got to be something I forgot.
It's a fine new car, though., he thinks, as the interface blinks green, only for a red window to appear a moment later, as the onboard AR begins speaking in a calm voice. "Hello, Mrs. Ichigawa. This vehicle detects a level of alcohol content in your breath above legal limits. Please, engage GridLink." Tiredly slamming his head in the steering wheel, the honk blaring for a moment, Geezer leans back up in the seat. Oh, Ray, you tosser... you told me they ripped the bloody thing off. I'll rip their bloody b+##+&~s off."Oi, engage GridLink.", he grunts, lighting up a cigarette. "Yes, Mrs. Ichigawa. Loading... GridLink license is unpaid. Outstanding due: 893 nuyen. Would you like to pay this now?"
Slamming his head once again in the steering wheel, Geezer lets out a scathing litany of condemnation towards the heritage, intelligence and general membership of the metahuman race of his technicians, as he leaves the car, slamming the door loud enough for the alarm to trigger. Well, I guess I'm bloody walking, then., he vents out. "Program a route to home.", he mutters to his commlink, a yellow line appearing towards his destination.
Beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other, Geezer turns down another alleyway, a small courtyard-like opening within a sea of skyscraper apartment buildings. Eyes glued to the game projected into his commlink, he throws his beer bottle away into a pile of trash. "Well that's a bloody mess of a neighbourhood...", he mutters, before carrying onwards. F+$*ing Leicester..., he mutters as a goal is scored onto the commlink screen, before his eyes spot a couple of shadows on the ground in front of him, and a clearing of a throat behind him. Oh, f@%#ing fantastic. I'll f&$@ing flay Ray.
A troll and two orks stand in front of him, accompanied by a third one walking in front of him from behind, speaking out something unintelligible, undoubtedly in Or'zet. "Oi, pal. Speak f*@$ing English, mate.", he lets out towards the third ork. The four seem like adolescents, two of them carrying pipes and boards, the troll armed with a knife the size of a sword. Rusty to boot, too. Oh, they're not even good gangers..., Geezer remarks, drawing a puff from his cigarette, before flicking it on the ground and stamping it out with his leather brogue.
"Hey, rich guy. Commlink, credsticks, and your fancy threads too, chummer.", the ork kid grins, tapping his pipe, his face full of enthusiasm and acne. "Then we let you walk away. Good deal, huh?", the speaker utters as one of them walks to Geezer, grabbing the plastic bag from his side and pulls out the rest of the six-pack of beers, opening one, as Geezer's face turns red. I'll get you, you little s+%#e.
Raising his hands in the air, Geezer reaches for his wrist, taking off his rather fancy commlink. The troll takes a step towards him, grabbing the thing in his arm, leading to another comment in Or'zet from the ork kid, letting out a laugh.
"Listen, mate, I f$@&ing warned you about English.", Geezer grunts, his sad attempt at a 'worried for his life' face turning into an angry grin. As the troll turns around, Geezer's hands dash out with blinding speed, grabbing his by the horns, as he jumps up against the troll, whose face turns into a mask of surprise.
With a gut-wrenching crack, Geezer's forehead slams into the troll's, sending blood and fragments of horn flying everywhere as the troll's left horn is sundered clean off his head. The troll takes a step backwards with a sad yelp and crashes on the ground. Geezer swirls around in a high roundhouse kick, sending the beer thief flying full nearly ten feet backwards into the wall of a brick shed. The two orks start running away, but the speaker trips into the troll's knife, tumbling into the ground, rambling swears in a trembling Or'zet.
Geezer steps forward, grabbing the guy by the scruff on his neck, and drags him towards the small brick shed. "Now, you sorry f!##!", he grunts out loudly over the kid's uncessant ramblings. "Shut your gob, you tosser!", he barks, slapping the kid on the face, which does little to stop the screaming. "I said, shut it!", he roars, as his fist flies into the brick wall mere inches next to the guy's head in an explosion of brick and mortar, sinking all the way to the elbow, which results in a quieting from the thug and a rapidly expanding blot on his pants. "Roit. So, you little incompetent git. You give me your bloody commlink and whatever else I can pawn off for a cab home, and an apology in good f$~%ing honest King's English, and then I'll not see if I can bring down this bike shack down with your head. Deal?", he roars out, throwing the kid on the ground. "Cough it up, tosser! Happy pills, happy dusts, commlinks, everything. Not your f$*%ing shoes, though. F$%$ing American obsession with bloody shoes...", he mutters out, as the kid leaps up and starts rummaging through his and his friends' pockets.
A few second later, having lit up a cigarette, Geezer is presented with two incredibly old commlinks, a lint-covered pill and a small bag of, seemingly, weed. Two second-hand Meta-Link 4S... I'm not f@*+ing touching that s+@+... And a bag of cush. Great. Barely going to cover the dry cleaning bill. Stuffing the loot in his pockets, Geezer looks at the kid. "I'm sorry we tried to mug you, mister sir." Grinning, Geezer taps the kid on the shoulder, who winces away instinctively. "That's better." He reaches in his pocket, pulling out a card. "That's my number, name's Geezer. You or your lot need a motor or need to see one disappear, give me a ring. If you think of holding a f~@*ing grudge, don't. Those don't pay well at all, son, and I'll bash your f$@&ing face in for real." He leaps up, picks up the rest of his beers and goes on his way.
I spend the last three days writing non-stop, and then I crashed to sleep for 21 hours. I managed to pick up a new (umpteenth-hand) hard drive as well today, and I'm now back in business.
I'll post a short post from Geezer in a minute, I got people to warn that I'm finally back!
Hey guys! Quick update, I mentioned I will be scarcely posting this week, as I'm just about wrapping up with university, period.
In addition, my laptop had honorably passed away, luckily the day after I handed in my final report. I'll be looking into getting it fixed, but for now I'll be posting scarcely, if I find somewhere to do it from. I'd ask you to bot me, if possible, and I'll try and get on with the game ASAP.
Cheers, and sorry! I'm not dropping the chance to be in a SR game, especially with such a cast!
I'm just warning you, I'm about to finish my final bachelor's degree project, so my posting might be patchy in the next week-ish. I'll still try and post, but it's possible that a day or two might pass where I'd be unable to do so, so feel free to bot me, if need for combat arises. Geezer enjoys long walks on the beach, football and rugby games and running towards people and beating them senseless.
Scratching his head, Geezer looks at Rune with an uneasy smile on his face. "Look, mate, I've got me a spare bolt hole in the Barrens, if you're feeling like it.", he says, raising his hands in the air. "By bolt hole, I mean I'm paying buttons to the local gang running the neighbourhood to kick out drug dealers and bums from the place and leave some supplies every month." He shrugs. "It's got a fifteen year old Azzie trid screen, an old extendable sofa and a portable biodiesel heater." He shrugs. "If you're feeling like doing some picket fence shindiggery, we could get the place up and running, split things half and half?", he proposes.
Geezer's offering his secondary lifestyle, which is at Squatter level with the Rough and Loud neighbourhood disadvantages and the Hasty Exit advantage. If you're feeling like getting a place for yourself, he's offering it to be improved to your liking, as long as he reserves the right to use it for emergencies - cheaper rent for both, and you get a place for yourself.
Geezer mentioned what he wouldn't do because that's one of the things one would do to a new fixer (I imagine), not because I'm implying you'll set us up on those kinds of tasks.
I'll spend 4,800 on one extra months on my lifestyles, 200 on random stuff. Not planning to go and save for Foci (doesn't feel like a character who'd use those), and stash the rest in his boxing bag.
Anyone have an idea on what to spend it on? Not sure how Karma for cash works here (or even if it does), but I might invest in a secret compartment for his car and increased seating. It's an exceptionally boring vehicle for a reason, but we can all fit inside if we cuddle.
Geezer stares at the credstick for a moment, then pockets it with a grin. Well, better get to spending before he changes his mind, mate."Well, both of us are doing the world a favour keeping the other in check, Mr. Muldoon.", he chuckles, putting his hands in his pockets and stretching the sizeable coat further. "Myself, I'm as flexible as a fresh Main Street rent-a-bird with a bad case of withdrawal,", he winks at Rune, "but if you lot feel like taking a break, I'll keep meself busy. Although.", he looks at Tilt, raising his hands in the air. "Saying this once. Doesn't rustle me one bit if you do, mate, but I don't waste runts under fifteen and I don't waste wives and kids. Just being clear." His stare is unnaturally serious for a short moment, as he swipes at something in AR. "Them's my digits." His face goes back to his usual rambunctiuous grin with a hint of thuggishness. "Also give me a shout if you need a car itching for crisp new colour. Will cut you a discount."
I knew I should've betted against Celtic..., thinks Geezer, shaking his head at the trid screen as the call arrives. As Nick and Wraith walk back in, he gives them a glance, then stares back at th trid until Muldoon walks in. Well, if it's not a pack of loonies, it's not fun, right?
As the Muldoon head walks in, personally, Geezer's eyebrow arches up. Himself proper?, he thinks, standing straighter up and popping his collar. "Thanks, Mr. Muldoon. Not one to miss opportunity knocking at the door.", he grins. As the fixer reveals himself to be one, Geezer nods. "Oi, that's proper-loik. From what I know, it's better to work with you lot than striking out for yourself. Count me in, boss. Always chuffed to help my local community and my bank account."
Raising an eyebrow at the human girl, seemingly half his age, weight, and half a foot shorter, Geezer's lips curls up. "I know, right, love?", he replies. "All cuddly and chipper, loik Big Bird. You watch his show?", he can't help but tease, before turning to Paladin. "Eh, could be. Yeah, mate, give 'er a ring. Tell her I promise I won't turn her into a newt, even if I could."Roit weird crowd, tell you..., he thinks, shaking his head as he finishes his pint. Shaking his head for the offer of a third, he stares at the trid screen on the wall.
Checked with the book to see what I should give you, I'll happily share it/describe it later when you get a better read!
The intactness of the ork's aura suggests that he's in quite good physical health, with a few almost completely imperceptible darker spots here and there. The warm yellowy-orange hue of joy appears to be quickly draining in patches, with purplish-gray confusion setting in slowly. The intensity and clarity of the aura suggests that he is indeed Awakened, although the rapid changes make it hard to detect his actual ability in the Astral.
OK, that was a bit more... drastic than I expected!
Geezer, having turned towards the trid screen on the wall to catch a glimpse at the game, doesn't notice Wraith's reaction until he hears a glass shatter on the floor. "That's a wast...", he turns around towards his beer and peanuts, and sees the unexpected reaction, eyebrow arching up and mouth going wide open as the seemingly bubbly girl sprints out as if she'd seen a ghost. His previously overly wide gestures stop, as he rubs a hand on his chin. His eyes look over the room, stopping for a moment to stare at Rune. "Wot?", he mutters a second later. "Is the bird superstitious or something?", he asks, his hand scratching his head, somehow appearing to feel guilty. "Loik, I know it's not all that common.", he shrugs. "But she didn't react to Rune 'ere, and all the regulars 'ere know Ol' Rory's a Merlin, innit?"
"This was just a pissed-off ork pumped full of chrome; he came out worse off than I did, considering he's not breathing. I've had worse. Once had a troll come after me holding an assault cannon like a pistol."
"Was the dumb tosser holding it sideways, too?", asks Geezer with a grin, doing his best thuggish impression.
Anya "Wraith" Whiteangel wrote:
"So, Geezer, Rune, how new are ya to th' biz? You guys hardened bioroids that bag'n'tag Halloweeners an' rage-buff at Ancients, or are ya still wet in places an'll make me change yer nappies?"
"Oi, love, we're in Boston. We're all soggy dodgers at least twice a week.", Geezer replies to Wraith, flashing a grin with a glint of gold in the background. "Never ran with a big team. I did rock a pink mohawk in '57, though, if that gives me bonus points.", he shares, nursing his pint. "And you're not going to see any of those techware gubbins on this ' ere geezer, darling. I settle things the roit proper way - good old fists and English charm.", he chuckles, popping his collar and sitting in an extremely unsophisticated position. "Having a lot of Sixth World Mojo doesn't hurt, either."I tootally didn't mention that only so you can write an elaborate flashback. *wink*
"Anyway the job is fine, pays well and we did make a difference. Not the worst way to pay the bills, I tell you. But wait, you went through the alter? Oh amigo, I'm happy for you. And sad. Wish you the best of lucks, you'll need it."
As an alter is mentioned, Geezer bursts into laughter. "Oi, pal, I might've taken the occasional kick to the gob in my day, but I'm not that mental.", he laughs. "We're already in one legal contract together, a second one would just have us take heavier drugs. To screw over UCAS Tax Office until death or litigation do us part, that's us."
Grabbing the hand with a toothy grin, Geezer gives it a strong shake. "Oi, constable, always a pleasure. You treating the bike proper?", he chuckles, letting go of the arm and finishing his pint with a single swig, giving a hand gesture to the bartender to pour two new pints, a smug grin appearing on his face. I wonder if the geezer knows what that means back home. Stuffing his cigarette with disgust in the ashtray, he shakes his head. "Something of the sort, I suppose.", he chuckles darkly.
"I got me a partner in the chopshop, Pam, and the hag's the Muldoon's seventh cousin three times removed or somesuch rubbish.", he shares, with apparent affection in his tone, before pulling out a packet of contraband cigarettes and offering one to Sarge. "So now that I get a job from the Muldoons, they ask me to pick up soymilk and noodles on the way back as well. Not all bad, though, more time for my vices, so I've picked up a new one.", he points to the cigarettes as he lights his up, and takes the newly poured pints of dark stout, handing one to Nick. "And how'd you get in the 'running business?", he asks, sending a grin at the rest of the team. "Not the company I imagined seeing your sorry mug with, mate." He sends a wink at Wraith. "Because this one is smiling."
EDIT: I didn't manage to get the post up before I saw the Paladin update.
Shrugging, Geezer nods back at the elf. "Pleasure, mate." Pointing at his bruised jaw, he chuckles. "Well, from this I suppose our hosts aren't asking you to renovate their properties." Turning his eyes at last to the quiet elf standing next to him, he leans backwards on the bar. "Rune, eh? What brings a minister to a bar? Should I be expecting a rabbi and a priest to walk in?", he barks out. "Taking the piss, mate.", pointing at Sarge. "And don't let him talk s$%+e about Awakened."
"...and that's why I'm saying, mate, bet on them. Brawl's all about the Matrix these days, and they've got the best gear!", the ork explains enthusiastically on his commlink, one hand exaggeratedly waving a cigarette around as he's talking, the other holding a half-full pint glass. "It's free money, mate, I'm tellin' you! Anyway, gotta leg it, talk to you later."
The ork stands up from his chair. Dressed in a finely tailored dark gray longcoat, trousers and fine leather shoes, the image is somewhat interrupted by a plum-and-cyan jersey under the unbuttoned coat. His frame is large even for an ork, standing at nearly six and half feet and with massive shoulders. The few wrinkles and baldness around the forehead suggest he's around middle age, and a couple of small scars and a broken nose hint that he's probably not a wageslave here for a drink. No weapons are visible around or on the man, but he moves with unnatural celerity.
He throws a glance at the bartender "Oi, you weren't taking the piss on blood being new, eh?", before nodding at Nix with a grin. "Afternoon, love.", he says, extending a massive hand for a handshake. "Name's Tony, but you lot can call me Geezer. Stuck when I crossed the pond, you know." He takes a sip from his beer, glancing and weighing the newcomers. "So, what's happening? All I know is that Muldoon told me to come to the pub at 3 in the afternoon on a weekday, so I didn't think to ask for details. Or wanted to, really.", he chuckles darkly, rubbing his nose.
Ah, I did re-read the things in the book. I never really got High-Power Chambering for any gun, since it felt a bit too powerful.
It turns out, while the modification is 7R, and not hard to acquire (it costs as much as the weapon you're putting it on), it locks the weapon to only fire HP rounds, which have availability of 20F... which is far from ideal - even Geezer would be struggling to find something of the sort, and he knows people!
I'd suggest grabbing some EX-Explosive rounds, which are, while illegal and somewhat difficult to obtain, objectively better than the HP rounds. And if you're looking for something to put in those two modification slots, maybe a lengthened barrel (250 nuyen), or Melee Hardening (300 nuyen), for bashing those perps in the head with that shining new arm?
I like the arm!
@GM - I revised some things - I removed his goggles and earbuds, added the Empathy and the Vehicle Identification software for his commlink, both at rating 3, and nabbed an extra doctor's appointment for some H4SO. I promise not to touch any more things!
Also, adepts typically have their augmented cousins beat when it comes to melee. You can pump your damage to obscene levels if you so choose.
*Whistles casually* I might know a thing or two about obscenities when it comes to melee damage, having just a bit more punch than your average everyday assault cannon. ^^
Main advantage of the gyro is that they reduce movement penalties as well - you can run and shoot, where an adept would be taking in significant penalties regardless of RC, and Weapon Foci are melee only. All in all, I think sammies got the wizboys beat on automatics, but neither of those groups are people I'd like to piss off.
I think we sidetracked this a bit, though. Itching to get started!
However, I _am_ the kind of person to start sticking things in other things just to see if we can make the boom bigger. ^_^
Paladin, can I ask where those rules are, both the custom firearms things, and the cyberhand thingys? I don't recall where I saw those, but I'm certainly interested in exploring them. =)
Arsenal has a lot of sweet weapon modifications, so I'd recommend checking that out. For l33t guns, there's no better book. (Except WAR!, but that one is notoriously overpowered.)
Cyberarm Gyromounts are in the SR4 CRB, so that'd be a good place to start.
Wraith, actually a 9/9/9 Arm with a gyromount is 34.1k and 1 Essence, if standard quality. It's expensive, but it could be worth it. Adepts are great, but razorboys and gunbunnies got the domination on automatic fire, by a long shot.
A lower arm with Agility 9, Strength 3 and Body 4 and a gyromount (chosen since the first one is the possible maximum, while the others are his other stats) for Nick would cost him .45 Essence and 27.2k nuyen. That's an excellent gunslinging arm, if he's feeling lucky. Or any accident leaves him disarmed.
Regarding knowing other PC's - Maybe Nick knows him as a low-level street level peddler and thug. Anyone with a particularly s!+#ty car could've bought it from his lot, as well.
Well, I know who did sell me my bike, that's sure.
Sooo, Geezer, if I were on the look for a trusty ride capable of... hypothetically speaking... carrying around a team of Runners and a lot of heavy ordinance, what would you recommend?
"Oh! Look at that, a returning customer. How's the bike, constable?"
"Now, constable, if you're making some more beer tokens on the side, not one to judge, most of the geezers running the shadows go for a GMC Bulldog."
"Which is bloody pish, mate! Bloody thing's might as well have a Shadowrunner sign on its front hood, and ten bloody pink sirens on top! It's costs a pretty penny too, and it's not worth it without a rigga."
"And if you don't have a bloody rigga, you're not going to outrun the bobbies, mate! What I'd recommend is, get yourself a Volkswagen Supercombi III van. Precision German engineering, tried and tested. Beats all your Yankee crap, if I'm honest."
"Them wheels used to be buzzing all around Boston couple o' years back, outdated now. First car I ever sold, swear on me mum. It's sneakier than a Tir terrorist, and a lot nicer to look at. Could fit a whole Urban Brawl team, including the coach, if they're not those c*!~ing Schwarzwald Titanen. And, if you're not doing the whole copper b%~*+#~s anymore, I know a guy who knows a guy who can fit a little tax-evasion compartment on the thing. Alltogether, I say it should be about 30 grand, including labour, but me and you, mate, we go way back, I'll be willing to shake hands on 27. You know what, call it 25 and a pint, aight?"
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Sorry, couldn't resist! A 'new' van of the sort with a shielded smuggling compartment would be 22k. With an assumed used vehicle discount, it'd be 17.5k for the lot, if the GM is nice and avoids commission. The car's from the 'Used Car Lot' book, which I wasn't imagining I'd use! But look at that! That car is basically the best for what we're looking at - subtle transportation. Another option that would last a fair bit in a firefight would be a pick-up truck, which is what I had for Roy's 4e embodiment, but it doesn't fit Boston or Nick, and it's not really worth the extra cash.
Regarding Hand Cannons - Getting a Warhawk to SA would be a great start, but you'd need to reload the thing often. I don't think that Gas Vents could realistically work on a revolver, so you're looking at a LOT of Recoil. The cyberarm gyro is very good for stuff of the sort, but I would completely understand not wanting to go for it for character reasons.
What you can do is get a Warhawk with the High-Power Chambering, Firing Selection Change, a Personalised grip and an Underbarrel weight, which has a net RC of 0. Still more kick than your average SA pistol, but it's the price you pay for getting a gun with more damage than a HMG. (Per shot, not net.)
Oi there, lads and birds, this here Geezer ready to start a bloody scuffle!
I've read the Gameplay, and wrote some of his contacts and backstory around it. I've gone with the barest and lowest level of connection to the Muldoons, but if that's too much, I can change it.
The backstory got me a bit carried away - whoops, but I think it describes what his current situation is. I don't know how he's going to meet the party, but I've got a couple of ideas - He could be 'asked' to go along with the task from Rebecca, which isn't something he'd refuse. He could've been chasing Donny for his own means, and arrived just in time to get involved in the shenanigans.
Regarding knowing other PC's - Maybe Nick knows him as a low-level street level peddler and thug. Anyone with a particularly s~&%ty car could've bought it from his lot, as well.
