Dawn of the Artifacts SR4 IC

[Crux Argentum]

Seems like every other job these days has to do with tempo, drugs, or the fallout from the recent “restructuring” of the criminal underworld. It’s been a dangerous few months, with every major and minor player in the sprawl fighting tooth-and-nail for their place. Even the news is obsessed with tempo, and it seems like right now, every trid channel is covering yet another tempo-fueled crime spree. Outside, the acid rain is pouring down, and the automated weather service has just put out a warning on the chance of sleet tonight. All in all, it’s a miserable Saturday morning. Wouldn’t it be nice to just get away from it all?

While you’re buried under those pleasant thoughts, a familiar number pings you in AR. It’s your fixer. If you want to eat, you gotta work, so you answer the call.

“Hey, I got a special request from a Ms. Johnson. Seems she has a need for a team to accompany her on a trip overseas. Someplace tropical, she says. If you’re interested, she wants to meet tonight, at the 77 Club in Renton. She’s got a room reserved for 5 o’clock. Here’s the address, and a code to broadcast when you get there. Let me know if you’re not interested, because I might take the damn offer myself.”

You've heard of the 77 club before. It's possibly one of the most exclusive and high class clubs in Seattle. So exclusive in fact, that you have no idea where it is and are able to find no information about it on the Matrix. The address your fixer gave you reads "77 SW Sunset Boulevard."

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna rolls her eyes at the message, and is suddenly very glad that her clothes are so very expensive, and classy. It should make her stick out less than anyone else that shows up, even if they are from Scottland.

She goes through her wardrobe, and looks through until she finds what she thinks should make her stand out less in such a place, and puts it on. she then holsters her gun, puts on her vest, makes a call for a cab, and turns on her music to wait while she watches the rain fall outside of the window.

She pings her fixer "I don't suppose you could find a map?"

Comm Status: (public)(Legal SIN)
Active effects: (None)
Armor (B/I): 17/13
Physical damage: 0/10
Stun damage: 0/10

[Dimers]

Wes's cybersecretary Siri relays the message to him word-for-word, sparing him the vertigo of direct AR. She even imitates Gwyn's rolling speech pattern, recognizing the source.

"Look up the 77 Club for me, Siri," Wes mutters as his truck turns itself back toward home. After a moment of searching, she replies, "I'm afraid I can't do that, Wes." He sighs and rolls his eyes :smallsigh:, and she sends the digital equivalent of a snicker into his synapses. "No, I really can't. There's no THERE there. The 77 Club in Seattle has buzz but no factual information -- no business name on file, no reports on news or review blogs ... and I'm being blocked from accessing what is at the location given."

"Well, you're not built to hack, so don't push. We don't need the attention coming our way anyhow, if Gwyn is talking about a 'Johnson'. Oh, speaking of hacking --" Siri cuts him off with the mental response, "Yes, Wes, I've updated your access ID." "Right, right, you're competent. One day I'll get used to software that does what it's supposed to." Siri's response is tagged as 'indignant': "Software! Is that how you think of me? I'm not just a program -- oh, wait, yes I am." Wes chuckles.

Back home, Wes decides to suit up and head into town early. You never know how traffic will be ... or how hard finding a nonexistent business might be, either. He trims his beard and puts on his good suit, tosses a few bags of gear in the cargo hold, and tells the truck to take him to the city.

Comm Status: public, spoofed, watchful agent
Active effects:
Armor (B/I): 10/5, nonconduct 6
Physical damage: 0 of 11
Stun damage: 0 of 10

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin
Apartment in Carbanado neighborhood
1300

Tenzin listens to the message from Fred "No Last Names". His immediate inclination is to blow it off, and tell Fred to shove this corporate babysitting job up his ass. Just from the sound of it, some high-up corporate type needed overwatch for her brood of brats while they were on vacation. Family and a big job going together probably meant one of the Japancorps. They weren't the worst work for, and generally more accepting of Tenzin's particular magical tradition than the others though, and a good job hadn't come along in a while. Tenzin reluctantly picks up the commlink off the folding table he uses as a nightstand and sends a quick message off to that stunty dwarf bastard Fred.

I'll be there. Got any details on who the rest of the team is? You know I'm not going near anything Clockwork's on again, right?

Time to get out of bed. Tenzin saunters off to the bathroom. Seems like Gunther, his rommate, hadn't gotten up yet. Of course, it being a Saturday, Gunther wouldn't be up until nighttime. It meant hot water in the shower for Tenzin. After showering off the nasty black gunk that is a constant presence Puyallup, Tenzin shaves his head, trying to present the right image. He considers the saffron robe that most seem to expect when the hire a Buddhist monk with mojo, but that doesn't seem to be the right thing for this meeting. It would also look ridiculously out of place in Renton. He straps on the form fitting suit and PPP armor, then the closest thing he has to corporate chic, a boring gray suit with not much style, though he adds a dash of color with the saffron tie. Looking good there!

He loads his weapons, foci, and a few pieces of sensory gear in his bag. His public commlink is set in public mode, and his shadow link is loaded with the code Fred had given. Time to go catch the bus. Feeling lucky today; maybe the roof hasn't been stolen off the bus stop yet. He leaves a note for Gunther, and sets out.

Indeed, the roof is still on the bus stop, and when the bus pulls up, it doesn't even splash Tenzin. Clearly some good omens. He rides for a bit, switching buses four times to get to his destination. By the time he arrives at the designated address, it is 1600. He takes a lean against a wall, a stick of lime-flavored betel gum in his mouth, becoming just a part of the scenery, but observing the passersby.

Perception (visual): [roll0]

[Thanatos 51-50]

What, no sitting there as an intermediary? I'm shocked you wouldn't try and negotiate for a bigger cut.
Jason Westree typed that without thinking. He was busy, dammit. Kneeling in front of The Palomino in Monica's shoppe was good for his condition - it helped clear his mind and remind him of who and when he really was. At least, so far.

He had never once hallucinated that the inner workings of the Palomino were a horses' guts and that he was a horse doctor. That would be ludicrous. he didn't even know what a horse's innards looked like.
"Hear of the 77 club, babe?" he shouted over his shoulder, setting down some of Monica's tools and inspecting the Palomino's engine and its hidden gun mount. Everything was working up to par, much better than the Katana had been right off the lot. Monica had helped see to that.
"Nope. But I have heard breakfast is ready. Soy-con, because I'm cheap like that."

"Coming," he called back, unable to keep the smile from his face and wiping engine grease from his hairy mitts. That was the other thing. Grease was way too different from blood to even set off the hallucinations.
All this from one bad beetle. He could be a walking spokesperson for some anti-chiphead campaign. But that wouldn't work. Ever since Highball helped him discover his "gift", it'd been the Shadows for him.
Speaking of, it was time to get some background intel.
After washing his hands in the shop sink, the Ork threw on his armoured duster and typed out a quick message on his comm.
Maya, Cowboy, need intel re: 77 club, job involving travel? Let's make sure it's not a trap, neh?
Jace sidled up to Monica's small table and doffed the black synth-leather hat he wore, switching his link to private mode. Those were the rules. No commlink at the breakfast table.
"Just got news for a job. Might be travelin'. Got Maya runnin' a background check now. " he informed his ex-wife as he pulled out a chair for her.
"Any pro-bonos you need done before I check out the Johnson?"

[Crux Argentum]

The rain begins to subside during your journey and has all but stopped upon reaching your destination. Jo-Anna, Wes, Tenzin and Jace all arrive at the supposed location of Club 77 at roughly the same time. Although there is some confusion upon arrival...

The address you have been given leads you to a nondescript sturdy looking metal door with a couple rusty 7's hanging nearby, clearly marking the address. Surprisingly, there are no signs or billboards indicating there is a club anywhere nearby - nor is there any indication in AR. On either side of the nondescript door is a neighborhood bar and grill and a men's clothing store. You also spot a few other interesting characters hanging out around the door. Three male orks - two sharply dressed in suits, one in the trappings of an old Clint Eastwood 'trid, and a stunningly beautiful human female.

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna takes in their appearances, clothes, and any scars, hairstyle, accessories, shoes, etc in a casual glance. [roll0] (8 sux)

[Thanatos 51-50]

The Cowboy gives the others a long, hard stare.
"So, this is the outfit I'm riding with today, eh?" he asks, mostly to cover up his unease.
Orks in suits, This is the day, isn't it?
He gives a long, lingering look to the golden-opalescent motorcycle idling in a nearby parking cell, it's obvious he's thinking about bucking this particular rodeo and calling it a day.
He takes a long, deep breath and closes his eyes, pulling up all his defenses from deep within his spirit, before glaring at the door and thumbing through his commlink's files to find the...

There it is.
He played the entry code Highball shot over.

Still no word back from Maya. That was troubling.

Activating Mystic Armour, Spell Resistance, and Improved Reflexes

[Ralasha]

The stunningly beautiful human female turns and heads in, or if locked, knocks.

[Abombom]

An apartment in Tacoma, close to the docks.

The nightmares were in full motion, no-stops that Saturday morning. The apartment’s tenant couldn’t quite make out the images that plagued his dreams… The only thing he could reliably identify was a constant, consistent feeling of dread. The dread was back, after weeks of staying away. It always came back.

Alistair woke, answering his fixer’s call covered in a cold sweat.

“Got it,” he answered and ended the call, just like that.

There wasn’t much of a point in asking Smiles questions. Smiles gave Alistair work, but he never gave him any damned honest information, always with a smile on his face. Certain key withheld facts from the last job he went on almost cost him his life, and it definitely cost him his car. Now, he had to make do with some secondhand scooter.

He told himself he should try to do some digging of his own. Get there early… Listen to his corporate training. Find out what’s what.

Get up. Try to find something online about this mysterious 77 Club. Get up. See if Smiles has a line on a proper SIN for travelling overseas. Get up. Put a bucket under the leak. Alistair repeated these thoughts to himself, but his body didn’t move.

Instead, he returned to his nightmares, the sound of rain easing him back to the dread.

-
Renton, 77 Club Address


Alistair parks his Dodge Scoot around the block and checks his Colt Manhunter tucked away in his concealable holster. It blended against the blue of his undershirt.

He remembered his first meet with a ‘Johnson,’ back when he was still working with the Big A. How he’d parked blocks away in a throwaway car. How’d he’d gotten the map blueprints for the bar he was meeting up at… Scouted it out astrally first. Form-fitted body armor worn underneath the most stylish, yet conservative suit money could buy. His team listening in to his comm, tactical positions scouted out immediately upon entering the room. Professional.

That was a long time ago. Today, he hadn’t even bothered to summon a spirit to bring along with him, much less scope the place out. And, he looked dressed for the part, sure, but anyone could tell something was off. He seemed completely frazzled; unkempt hair (then again, that was the style these days), bags under the eyes, obvious cuts where he had shaved his beard, a wrinkled suit. Somehow, with all of 2070s’ technology at hand, he’d managed to wrinkle a wrinkleless suit, and cut up a cutproof shave. It was an odd sight.

Even odder however, were the orks standing in front of the address he was given. Bouncers, maybe? He walked up to them, broadcast the code Smiles had given him, and waited.

Comm status: Public, Active SIN: Joseph Goebbels
Armor: Armored clothing (4/0)

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin reads the public broadcast of the approaching man. Joseph Goebbels? What the hell is he, some kind of Nazi fanboy? Probably some Humanis scum.

Tenzin Then broadcasts the code from his shadow comm, and heads in the door. If these odd folks hanging around the door were the rest of the team, he would get to know them soon enough. Who goes around dressed like an old-time cowboy in the middle of Seattle though? Maybe some gang I haven't heard of...

He briefly considers summoning up a spirit on overwatch. Nah, too much trouble. I'm not going to bother them for this. Johnson who needs a whole team like this probably doesn't have betrayal on mind from the outset.

Comm Status: Public, "Adisa Ngapoi"
Active Effects: Betel (+1 perception)
Armor (B/I): 9/7, non-conductive 6

[Dimers]

Wes slides in after the annoyed-looking man in the saffron tie. Following that closely, even through the stink of wet garbage in the gutter, he can smell gum. Lime betel. Tasty.

Just taking autosuccesses instead of rolling for Perception.

He holds the door open a moment for the cowboy while his eyes adjust. "Welp, pardner? Coming in?"

Siri, tell the truck to park. I'll be a while.

Comm Status: public, spoofed, watchful agent
Active effects:
Armor (B/I): 10/5, nonconduct 6
Physical damage: 0 of 11
Stun damage: 0 of 10

[Crux Argentum]

Broadcasting the code given by your fixers yields quick results. As Jo-Anna walks up to the door and raises her hand to knock, she is caught off guard as it swings open. Before her stands a very large meta-human. So large, in fact, you are unable to see its face. Whatever it is, it's wearing a very fine suit that was no doubt custom made. Lowering its head to peer outside reveals it to be a male troll. It's kind of dark inside, but he's wearing sunglasses, and Jo-Anna is close enough to spot a sidearm hidden beneath his coat.

He looks at you expectantly, then seems to come to some sort of realization in his own head. "Ah, right this way," he gestures, moving his massive frame aside to allow entry.

Once inside, you find yourself standing in a small room. A sharply dressed elf female sits behind a wall of thick glass. Her eyes are obviously cyber replacements, and she no doubt has plenty of other cyber by the looks of her. Her hands rest near some kind of computer interface or display.

"Kindly check in your weapons here," the troll says, gesturing towards the counter on your side of the glass near the elf. "I can assure you that you will come to no harm in the Club 77, and we ask that you leave your weapons here for the safety of our guests." The elf appears to be watching the monitor nearby. You're probably being scanned.

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna calmly puts her gun into the nearest empty receptical, before, or while being asked. Her face the very picture of British stoicism as she calmly switches her com to private mode, and turns to regard the troll with a raised eyebrow at the rest of this speech. "Why, why would anyone wish to harm me?"

Comm Status: (Private)(Legal SIN)
Active effects: Meta-Genics
Armor (B/I): 17/13
Physical damage: 0/10
Stun damage: 0/10

[Dimers]

The ork in the Executive Suite duds leaves his hat at the weapon check, but doesn't put down any weapons. He moves slowly to make sure the scanner lady gets a good view, then mumbles, Nobody looking at me just 'cuz I'm pretty. Better take what I can get. He looks expectantly at the troll.


Comm Status: public, spoofed, watchful agent
Active effects: natural low-light vision
Armor (B/I): 10/5, nonconduct 6
Physical damage: 0 of 11
Stun damage: 0 of 10

[Thanatos 51-50]

Jace casually flips the Ruger Super Warhawk out of its holster, gently gripping the faux-peral handle, and snaps the cylinder out, unloading the rounds into his spare speed-loader, and dropping that into its ammo container.
Then, he snaps the weapon shut, and casually dry-fires it at the floor.
"Yup. It works."
He slid the revolver back into his holster and waited an overlong moment before grinning.

"Just kidding."
He snapped the revolver out again and presented it to the bouncer handle-first.
"I got an LTL, too. I suspect I can keep that?"

PAN: Hidden
Active Effects: Improved Reflexes, Mystic Armour, Spell Resistance
UNWOUNDED

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin sets his pistol down on the counter and continues forward. The foci each cost tens of thousands of nuyen, so no way is he letting someone he doesn't know handle them.

[Sinpoder]

Seems like every other job these days has to do with tempo, drugs, or the fallout from the recent “restructuring” of the criminal underworld. It’s been a dangerous few months, with every major and minor player in the sprawl fighting tooth-and-nail for their place. Even the news is obsessed with tempo, and it seems like right now, every trid channel is covering yet another tempo-fueled crime spree. Outside, the acid rain is pouring down, and the automated weather service has just put out a warning on the chance of sleet tonight. All in all, it’s a miserable Saturday morning. Wouldn’t it be nice to just get away from it all?

While you’re buried under those pleasant thoughts, a familiar number pings you in AR. It’s your fixer. If you want to eat, you gotta work, so you answer the call.

“Hey, I got a special request from a Ms. Johnson. Seems she has a need for a team to accompany her on a trip overseas. Someplace tropical, she says. If you’re interested, she wants to meet tonight, at the 77 Club in Renton. She’s got a room reserved for 5 o’clock. Here’s the address, and a code to broadcast when you get there. Let me know if you’re not interested, because I might take the damn offer myself.”

You've heard of the 77 club before. It's possibly one of the most exclusive and high class clubs in Seattle. So exclusive in fact, that you have no idea where it is and are able to find no information about it on the Matrix. The address your fixer gave you reads "77 SW Sunset Boulevard."

Logan was sitting there in his 'medium' wealth apartment, though in all reality it was more of a room to eat and cook food, and a place to train and his meditation room. Logan had no real worldly possessions like cellphones and what not, and didn't even have any contacts on this side of the globe so he was mostly just running off what he could while he was here, all expect his fixer.

As Logan was meditating was interrupted by him and he would be given the offer. Logan would listen to this and he would simply raise to his feet, knowing very well that this could turn into a hit mission or something of that sort and Logan really did hate to do those missions, but he knew that he had to survive in this city somehow. As he got up, he would take off his meditation robes, and hang them up only to grab what appeared to be your extremely nice monk robes, but they were in fact a rather effective armor system but he would not let anyone else know that if he could help it.

Logan would also reach up and grab a small but long piece of cloth and wrap it over his eyes, as he would take a deep breath for a moment as he readied himself to go out for this mission.

Logan was possibly the best at standing out of a crowd of people, with his extremely tall, for a human anyway, statue and the fact that he wore traditional monk robes and even wore a blindfold made him rather well known for that simple fact. His code of honor also made him a reliable source of work, as if Logan says he is going to get something done, he gets it done.

He arrived around the same time everyone else did and he would not say anything as he simply walked past the troll, not giving him any weapons at all because Logan never carried weapons... he was the weapon. Logan could 'see' anything and everything in this room, including people that may have been invisible as the noise from the club and the troll speaking caused sound waves to bounce off the room and back to Logan's ears. If there was anyone in this room that was trying to be hidden, Logan would most likely see him as well as the other could see the Troll.

[Abombom]

Alistair followed the group in. So they're not bouncers. He wondered for a moment if any of them happened to be his potential... 'co-workers.'

He placed his Manhunter on the counter and had no second thoughts about doing so. He wasn't any good with a gun anyway.

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna looks up to the ogre with a politely inquisitive expression. "I'm terribly sorry, but is there a coatroom by chance?"

[Sinpoder]

As Logan stood there, his echolocation allowed him to see who was summoned here, along with him. He 'looked' at the women, who looked no older then 21 but she was extremely attractive and wearing an extremely, and he could just tell that he needed to watch her, but that might be because any women in this kind of business was their because they could survive. His 'sight' would move on as he saw the Ork, who just from the shape and size of his body did not seem to be any stronger then Logan was naturally, but with all the cyberware and bioware that was out there he could not know for sure.

His mind then continued on, moving to the other ork. He was only a head taller then Logan but has unmanageably thick wavy brown hair and usually keeps a light beard. His right undertusk is longer than the left. As he looked he could also tell that the suit he was wearing looked very nice. He then went to the next Ork, who was alittle over six feet tall, which did make him slightly shorter then Logan but he didn't really care as he moved on quickly.

His eyes finally came to the last human in the room that was apparently going to be apart of this group, a small 5'11" human, who again didn't really give much away of his abilities though done of them really did off the start.

As he heard the women speak, her voice would fill the room and allow Logan to see yet again. Logan could tell that the glass was most likely something that he could break, but he knew he could punch though the armor on a tank so that was not saying much.

[Crux Argentum]

"No, I'm afraid we'll need that too," he says looking to Jason. "I'll take that, miss," the troll says, helping Jo-Anna out of her coat with surprising dexterity for his massive hands and holding it over his arm as a butler holds a small cloth. "If you'll wait just a moment please.." The troll's expression goes blank as he appears to be communicating through his 'link.

You truly are waiting only a moment when a gorgeous hostess in a skin-tight cocktail dress appears in a doorway nearby. "If you would all follow me," she says, politely addressing everyone in the small check-in room.

She leads you into the club proper. It's quiet, and the aroma of cigar smoke, expensive rum, and money drifts through the air. Passing by private rooms, you catch glimpses of a few famous faces in Seattle - Mafia dons brushing elbows with trid stars and high ranking corporate officials. No one's 'links appear to be on, and it seems the only way to order something is to request it from a waiter in person. Quite old fashioned. The hostess leads you down a couple of wood paneled corridors to a small room and asks if she can bring you any refreshments before opening the door and beckoning you to enter.

The room is set up like an old-fashioned parlor out of a period trid. Two small couches and a variety of comfortable chairs are set up in the room, along with a real wooden dining table set with a white linen tablecloth and crystal glasses. A real fire in a hearth warms the room, and the flickering firelight sparked off the crystal on the table. Sitting casually in one chair is a brown-haired human woman with fair skin and blue eyes. She's wearing a pale-blue tailored suit and some unusual jewelry, including a large dragon-shaped ring. She's sipping a glass of wine when you enter, but she smiles and stands when the hostess closes the door behind you. When she stands to greet you, you realize she's much taller than a normal human woman, and her slender figure clues you in; she's an elf. She's attractive, but not in the same class as that hot hostess outside - until she smiles at you. Her smile lights up her face, transforming her from simply attractive to suddenly stunning.

"Hello," she says, greeting you all. "I'm Ms. Johnson. Thanks for meeting on such short notice. Please, sit down."

"I trust that your fixer mentioned that I'm looking for some traveling companions? Yes? Well I'm actually in the business myself," she flashes you a smile. "I've been hired by a private antiquities collector who recently lost an item from his collection. His only clue is this man, who has apparently been hired by a rival collector to find the item first. He's an elf who goes by the name Samriel Lockwood. One or both of those names are likely to be false.

"We've been tracking him, but it now appears that he's gone to Lagos. We need to locate him quickly and trail him to the item. Now normally, I work alone, but Lagos... well it's not exactly a safe city for a single woman. If you're amenable, I'd like to hire you to accompany me as security, and you can also help out in my investigation.

"As you can imagine, the trail grows colder with every hour, so I'd like to leave as soon as possible. In the morning, in fact.

"I'm willing to pay 2,000 nuyen, per day, plus a per diem of 250 nuyen with a guaranteed minimum of five days paid upfront. I'll also cover lodging in Lagos, plus the cost of traveling to and from Nigeria. If we find the lost item, and you assist me in recovering it, I'll also split the 'finder's fee' with you - which would be 50,000 nuyen for your team."

[Ralasha]

Watson takes in her appearance, style of dress, manner of stance, walk, the way she holds herself, the expression of her eyes themselves, any traces of profession on her hands, calluses, scars, bruises, etcetera, and all in a glance, and listens to her manner of speech, accent, inflections, style, wording, etc in order to place her most likely place of birth and where she was raised, as well as which social class, paying attention for any vagaries of deception in her wording, such as someone coming into money, born into a poor family. "I will assume this club is like the ones in England then."

Perception: [roll0] (14 sux)

Watson then sits, apologizes and verbally dissects her appraisal of the woman, accounting for appearance, speech, mannerisms, and stance. (Think Sherlock Holmes Movies)

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Seriously, Lagos? Gives a decent explanation of why I'm here at least. Gotta call Mom and see if she wants to bring anything for the family over there.

Tenzin waits for the woman to finish, then speaks up. "Sounds like an excellent deal, with the exception of sending us into just about the most dangerous place around outside of Chicago. It being such an excellent deal, and me being a reasonably prudent and cautious individual, I'd like to know what the catch is? That is some hefty weights of cash you're throwing around, plus, why can't you get yourself a local team? Seems a lot easier than flying us all out there."

[Dimers]

While the woman in classic Scottish clothing dissects Ms. Johnson, Wes tells his link to hide and murmurs an order for bourbon on ice to a hovering server. He seems to get caught up in Watson's explanation, nodding unconscious a couple times. He also has the look of a person who's trying hard not to stare, controlling his gaze carefully when he looks at Ms. Johnson.

He quickly offers his assent when Johnson makes eye contact with him. "Seems a strong offer ... I presume because of the short notice. I'll join you. Two questions -- are the circumstances of the loss relevant, and do you have anything that might have this 'Lockwood' guy's scent on it? My nose is state-of-the-art."

Privately, he tells Siri, Contact Mylesia Meadows' son and see if he can take care of the animals while I'm gone. And let Dack know where I'm headed. He should start divvying the street will if I don't contact him in five days.

[Ralasha]

"So, now the question is, rather than whether or not I am worth your money, whether or not your case is worth my time. I like challenges, the more difficult the better. I can tell you right now where any number of people in this establishment live by the smells and residues on their clothing, within a certain number of blocks with accuracy, within miles definitively, but of course, I should introduce myself. I am Doctor Jo-Anna Watson." She then leans over to a nearby server and asks for a cup of tea.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Jace quietly watches the proceedings, letting his more socially-gifted cohorts do the majority of the talking, and looking around, snapping pictures of his assembled associates and sending them over the wire to Maya with. Subject line reading "details."

In the body of the message, he captions Watson's pict with her name, and includes the name "Samriel Lockwood"

[Crux Argentum]

Ralasha
Jo-Anna is able to determine after her analysis of Ms. Johnson that she is likely somewhat older than she looks. It's difficult to determine her exact age since she in an elf, but in human years, she appears to be in her mid-twenties.
It also appears her hair has been dyed recently. It is impossible to determine the original color. She is calm and relaxed, and lacking any visible cyberware. Her accent is unremarkable, and sounds like she's from the from the states, possibly the Midwest. You could determine a slight limp in the left leg as she stood up to greet you.


"Catch?" she asks raising an eyebrow inquisitively. "There is no catch. I plan to avoid trouble when we can, but I won't lie to you, Lagos is a dangerous place. However, I have faith you all can handle yourselves in a tussle," she says with a hint of a smile.

A server returns with bourbon on ice and full tea set. The tea set looks to be made of sterling silver and old, but beautifully maintained and polished.

"Well that's one," she says looking to Wes with a smile at his mention of joining. "No, the circumstances of the original theft are irrelevant. Samriel wasn't involved. But I believe he knows where it is. I'm afraid I have no such personal possession of his."

"Pleased to meet you, Doctor Watson," Ms. Johnson says courteously with a nod. "Will we be counting you among our number on this journey as well?"

[Ralasha]

"Perhaps, though I would like to see the data on the original theft. I may notice things others didn't. Such as your dyed hair, limp, midwestern accent, or the fact that you hide your age so extremely well." She takes a sip of her tea, as though talking about the weather.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"You're lying." the Cowboy speaks up flatly. "There's always a catch."

He leans forward slightly, his hand "Accidentally" dangling near his hold-out so that he could draw it in a snap. People get touchy when you call their bluffs.

"That being said - we knew how dangerous this line was when we broke in. I'm worried about transit, personally. I, at least, have a lot of gear I'd rather authorities not see. I'm sure I'm not the only one. How're you gunna handle that for us, since you're being so generous with your bread?"

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

"Fine. It's your money; spend it on us if you want. I'm in."

He leans against the wall, eyes closed. Let the rest of the folks do what they want, he had some observing to do. Sliding into the astral, he looks over the collected group.

Assensing (auras): [roll0]

[Dimers]

"Perhaps, though I would like to see the data on the original theft. I may notice things others didn't. Such as your dyed hair, limp, midwestern accent, or the fact that you hide your age so extremely well." She takes a sip of her tea, as though talking about the weather.

Wes looks a little puzzled. Aren't the leg trouble and accent obvious? He looks around at the other 'runners ...

... who did NOT notice such things because they have no Perception, and it shows on their faces because they have no Con or Negotiation ... :smallwink:

... and sees them astonished at Watson's degree of insight. Oh. Guess not.

[Crux Argentum]

"I'm afraid that would be out of the question, Dr. Watson. I'm not at liberty to distribute such information," she says firmly and casually.

"I have made the arrangements for travel myself. To get us to Africa, I've arranged for a private flight from here to Cairo, and then on to Accra - the capital of Asante, and the closest real airport to Lagos. We won't have to deal with any airport security or other travel issues," she assures the man in the western attire.

"But after that, I'm afraid we'll be traveling with a bush pilot into Lagos. I've been told there will be limited room on the plane for us on the final leg of the journey, and we're to pack light. A single carry-on-sized bag and a backpack or dufflebag each, or so I was told."

cgrela
Scanning the astral, Tenzin is able to determine that Ms. Johnson appears to be calm and relaxed by the gently swirling tranquil blues and greens in her aura. She has no cyberware and appears to be mundane with a Magic rating lower than yours and an Essence equal to yours. She appears healthy and disease/toxin-free.

You also realize that there is tight magical security. Looks like the entire club is magically warded, and watcher spirits patrol the hallways outside.

[Ralasha]

Watson shakes her head. "Of course, and, if you did know the people that could authorize such a release of information, even if under contract, you would not mention it to them. So I suppose the point is moot. I suppose I'll join you, if only for the money. Pays better than catching cheating spouses, murderers, escaped convicts and the like I'm sure."

[Crux Argentum]

"Wonderful. Since we'll be traveling together, you can all call me Jane," the elven woman says. "Ms. Johnson is something I'd call my employer.

"So, before we leave, there's a few things you should probably know," Jane says, then takes out a datachip and hands it over. "I've put together a list of inoculations that the World Health Organization recommends for travelers to West Africa. Some of these things aren't in your normal medkit, so you may need to see a doctor before we leave. There's some additional information about Lagos on the disk, if you're not already familiar with the city."

A Visitor's Guide To Lagos (annotated ShadowSea Summary)
Today is Sunday, February 7th
Today’s Weather in Lagos: 34 deg C (daytime high)
with heavy sustained winds

Lagos is a feral city on the coast of West Africa. The
city itself is home to 10–20 million people, most of whom
live in conditions that make the Redmond Barrens look
luxurious. Immensely powerful and rich warlords rule the
city from the secure enclave of Lagos Island. Corporate
investment in the city is high, since it is the primary outlet
for the oil pumped in the ***** delta and serves as a
no-holds-barred playground for everything from cheap
consumer goods to black-market bioweapons. Almost
any goods with value can be bought or sold in Lagos, be
it weapons, metahumans, or technology. With no police
force (or city-wide infrastructure), the rich and powerful
write their own rules—and the corporations enjoy having
no rules at all.

The city is built around large, shallow lagoons of
brackish, polluted water. About a quarter of the sprawl
area is actually water, and much of the rest of the city is
built on a swamp. During the rainy season, streets become
waterways and entire neighborhoods are flooded.
Homes built over the swamps and lagoons balance precariously
on stilts, while wooden or plastic slats connect
homes. In the drier areas of the city, homes are often
built of cinderblocks, and multi-story apartment complexes
are common in the dense slums. Everywhere,
people collect the acidic rainwater on rooftops and
in barrels, and many families have rooftop “gardens”
of edible fungi and hardy plants. The water from the
lagoon, rivers, and streams is too polluted with toxic
chemicals and metahuman waste to be drinkable (in
fact, just falling into the water can cause a metahuman
to become seriously ill). Less than one percent of the
population has access to clean water (or plumbing), and
so sterilized bags of water are common at markets and
roadside vendors. Shamans with the sterilize spell are
such valuable commodities that gangs and neighborhoods
have been known to go to war to acquire one.
Food is another danger; fish from the lagoons can
be toxic, and vegetables and fruit are often washed in
polluted water. Food-borne illness is rampant, especially
amongst visitors. There are few soy or soy-based products,
however, and the spicy cooking features fresh fish,
Cassava, rice, and yams. Devil rats (or their less dangerous
cousins) are also a staple.

In December and February, the strong Harmattan
wind blows from the Sahara, bringing a warm, dry period
and coating everything in the city with a fine, red dust.
There is little to no rain during this time, and drinkable
water becomes scarce.

Magic runs through the city, with tribal dibias and
olorishas (shamans) holding their societies together or
profiting by their powers. Much of the city has a background
count, from centuries of metahuman suffering,
misery, and overwhelming pollution. Some areas are
domains that favor toxic magic, like the dense, polluted
slums of Shomolu, while others favor nature magic, such
as the wild, untamed grasslands of Ifako-Ijaye. Dangerous
Awakened creatures are drawn to the tainted astral
space. Local dibias learn to compensate for the difficulty
in drawing mana, but visitors can be caught unaware.

Wireless coverage in the city is provided primarily
through a Mesh Network. There are a few areas with
reliable wireless coverage (such as Festac Town or Lagos
Island). However, since the majority of the population
has commlinks (although many are scavenged from
corporate recycling programs), a viable mesh network
exists. The network is subject to the flows of metahuman
traffic, however, and at anytime, coverage could go
from strong to non-existent within a few minutes.

While many people have commlinks, almost no one
has a bank account (or ID). Instead, most of the daily
financial transactions are done through barter or physical
currency. The naira is the common currency for Lagos,
and 20 naira are worth approximately 1 nuyen. Rampant
forgery makes the paper naira almost worthless, while
coins (in amounts up to 500 naira) are slightly better
as long as a person verifies the coin is made from real
metal. Better yet are hawala tokens, which are accepted
everywhere in the sprawl and are often given a
higher value in daily transactions. Hawala tokens generally
come in amounts up to 1,000 naira. Most sprawl
residents will also accept bartered items in exchange for
goods or services.

There are estimates that there are over one hundred
different languages spoken in Lagos. Many
residents speak a Lagos-specific type of city speak,
which combines several tribal languages with English
and French. Other major languages are Yoruba and
Igbo. While Horizon’s Life-line linguasoft service has
Yoruba linguasofts available, there are no linguasofts
on the market for the unique Lagosian city speak, Igbo,
or any of the other tribal languages. However, between
Yoruba, English, and French, most oyibos (foreigners)
can make themselves understood, as long as they remember
not to speak Yoruba to an Igbo unless they’re
spoiling for a fight.

The Hawala Network
A hawala network is an informal system of
monetary transfers that relies upon a strict honor
system and is common throughout most of Africa
and parts of Asia. A person can make a deposit
(certified electronic funds, hard currency, precious
metals or gems, or occasionally other highly valuable
commodities) with a hawala in their area. For
a percentage, generally 10-20 percent, the hawala
gives the client a voucher. Then, generally, the
hawala contacts another hawala in another city,
transferring the funds to that hawala. Anyone
with the correct voucher (a physical token, occasionally
a written, electronic, even a verbal phrase
or key) can then access the funds, which will be
provided in the requested form (generally certified
cred or hard currency). The system depends completely
on the honor and honesty of the hawalas
and the trust that their clients place upon them.
As such, the men are often held in high esteem
within their societies and often act as trustworthy
and reputable fixers.
Hawala tokens in Lagos are often small items,
such as tiny shells, fragments of bone, or small
rocks with intricate carvings indicating the originating
Hawala and value. Forging a Hawala token
is a serious cultural taboo, and most Lagosians
believe doing so will call down a curse on the
thief. Eerie stories of carved leopards springing
to life to slaughter a thief, or a plague killing his
entire family, or spirits driving him mad are whispered
throughout the sprawl.
Hawala tokens always have two sides, with
symbols on both. The top shows the value, the
bottom the hawala’s personal symbol. In Lagos,
the network of Lagosian hawalas has agreed
upon the common symbols and values.

Monkey - 5 Naira
Fish - 10 Naira
Hippo - 50 Naira
Parrot - 100 Naira
Lion - 1,000 Naira


COMMON PRICES FOR GEAR
AND SERVICES IN LAGOS
> Heard you were heading to Lagos. Because
I care, I’ve attached a price sheet, courtesy of that
dog Duante. He says to tell you that these prices are
what a native might get, or someone really hot at
negotiating.
> Kat o’Nine Tales
AK-97 (only “slightly” used): 1,000 Naira
Ares Predator IV: 3,500 Naira
Regular Ammo (10): 200 Naira
Hotel (Porto Novo): 1,000 Naira
Hotel (Lagos Island): 1,000+ Nuyen (Naira not accepted)
Cab Ride (1 hr): 100 Naira
Okada Ride (1 hr): 20 Naira
Breakfast/Lunch (Roadside Vendor): 5–10 Naira
Dinner (Buka): 20 Naira
Dinner (Nice Restaurant): 200+ Naira
Typical Area Boy Bribe (foreigner rates): 100 Naira


"I'd seriously recommend everyone here bring a medkit. Does anyone need any help arranging details before we go?"

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna checks the medications against her knowledge.

Medicine: [roll0]

[Dimers]

"Does anyone need any help arranging details before we go?"

"Buyin' the lingo would eat up all that advance and then some, Jane," Wesley comments. "And the innocs are more on top of that. Now, with you wanting to keep your team in good health so we can keep you in good health, will you be fronting the cred for shots and linguasofts? The softs are pretty cheap if you rent instead of buying, and, well, it's all a good investment."

[Crux Argentum]

"Very well, but we'll compromise. I will provide the team with linguasofts when we meet up tomorrow in the morning, however, it will be up to you to pay a visit to your doctor and get your immunizations up to date. Fair enough?

"Now. I have some preparations to take care of myself, so if we are all understand each other, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow at the Tacoma International Airport, 8am sharp, terminal A14."

[Thanatos 51-50]

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to provide a high-quality mapsoft of the bush pilot's projected route?" Jason presses.
"If you can get my Palomino on the private flight over, I can use the mapsoft to follow on the ground - or get the Palomino to follow us."
The cowboy allowed himself to shift about uncomfortably.
"I much prefer to travel overland rather'n sit shotgun in some chummer's plane. I like my life to be in mine own hands. Only rivers that would be an issue would have bridges over 'im anyway."

[Abombom]

Alistair had never been to a proper job like this outside of the country. The pay seemed decent, but was it decent enough? He slots the datachip into his datajack and a small text box appears in his cybereyes' vision. He skims over the Visitor's Guide as the group discusses arrangements.

Although distracted, the mage manages to catch the part about paying for his own medications. In his experience, when a Johnson, an employer, or heck, even a university, didn't want to pay for something essential... that's because it was costly. God knows what diseases were rampant over there; perhaps even some HMVV-derivatives. Hopefully someone else connects the dots and speaks up. He hadn't been good with people ever since Bright Eyes messed with his head.

Or maybe Jane was just cheap. After all, no mention of mapsofts until the cowboy had spoken up, and he knew he'd eaten soyburgers more expensive than the cost of those.

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin took a look at the list of inoculations and frowned. It was going to take some effort to find a doc who had all of these and wouldn't either pull a scam with fake drugs or charge obscene prices. The same doc would probably be able to provide a top-grade medkit though, so it wasn't so bad. "Sounds fine to me. I'll see you at 0800 then." He sets an alarm on his commlink, maps out the bus route, and turns to leave.

[Crux Argentum]

"I'll see what I can do about the map," she says with a nod to Jason.

"Well my new companions, I'm afraid I must make some preparations of my own tonight. If there is nothing else... I'll see you all bright and early tomorrow." She flashes one of those brilliant smiles once more and stands up to leave.

Everyone
If there are no more questions, Jane leaves the room. You can stay here and discuss things amongst yourselves, or you can go make any last minute preparations before dawn tomorrow - including going to the doctor.

Your immunizations will be 250 nuyen each. If you don't mark it on your sheet that your immunizations are up to date (and mark off the 250), you just might come down with something nasty once in Lagos. :smallwink:
Ralasha
The list of inoculations covers a broad range of diseases - everything from malaria, dysentery, cholera, and botulism to food-borne parasites

[Ralasha]

She finally looks up, and waves to get everyone's attention before they leave. "Mm, yes. Although I was unaware malaria is an issue in Africa, which is generally an arid climate. And the vaccine can cause... reactions. If any of you wish, I'll take care of your treatments to be certain you at least survive. It will cost however, since the vaccines are not cheap to procure, but it will also most likely cost you less than going to a hospital. Yes, I am medically trained, before any of you ask. I am also a trained chemist, and am versed in several other professions. Questions?"

[Dimers]

"See ya at SeaTac," quips Wes lamely. Ahhh that was gaz, Wes, he thinks, looking a little embarassed. I see a little smile and suddenly I can't talk like an adult any more.

Wes tells Siri to beam the server a tip, call the truck and find a clinic with the right medicines on hand. Kyuusei Medical, the agent suggests. Their vaccines are superb, and they're based out of the SSC. Greatest nation in the world! thinks Wes reflexively. I do know your tastes, dear, Siri notes with an electronic eye-roll.

Standing outside, waiting for his wheels to show, Wes starts making plans. "I'll get the medbot to pack up its supplies ... think the human adaptors are in the kitchen drawer ... get up around dawn ... enough time to get through security ...

Fade to black.

[Abombom]

Alistair messages his fixer for a recommendation on trusted docs or clinics. Smiles had a tendency of charging for even the simplest of introductions. He tried to clarify that he wasn't looking for a contact:

Not looking for a hook-up, just a place to get these shots. See attached.

He watched as Tenzin and Wes turned to leave. Alistair frowned. It's going to be one of those groups, eh? He already didn't like them. Maybe it was the shaved head. Or the irregular tusks. But it was probably just the fact they were probably going to be spending days bunked up and running security for an unknown elf in an unknown land, and they couldn't spare a moment for a drink.

Oh well. At least he wouldn't be calling Jane Ms. Johnson the whole time, he thought.

The human dispelled his frown, turned to Jo-Anna, and pretended to be social. "Surely a generous offer, but who'd trust a complete stranger in this line of work to stick a needle in them?"

He tried to flag down the waiter and order whiskey on the rocks before leaning back on his chair and addressing those still present. "The name's Boris, by the way. Boris..." Alistair paused. People hire me because they know who I am. Just get it out of the way now. "...Boris the Butcher.

And who will be my fellow babysitters? Or are we all who we say we are on our 'links?"" He smiled.

[Ralasha]

Watson retorts. "Every time you meet a doctor it's a stranger sticking the needle into you. At least with me you know I'm on the same job, and not being payed to stop it. How do you know this? Simple, check my personal files, they're public." She stands and heads out. "Since no one is interested in my medical services at this time, I shall adjourn until tomorrow. Good evening." She bows her head slightly, and leaves, being certain to check her coat and gun for any modifications or alterations, such as tracers, or other tracking devices.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"You guys are running your comms in public mode?" Jason asked, genuinely surprised. Why would anyone ever want to just give that information away? He only ran his comms in public when he needed to.
"You can call me Jason - Jace works, if Jason gets boring."
The Cowboy tapped the brim of his synth-leather hat as a way of hello.
"Now, Doctor - Watson, it was? Ms. Jo?" the cowboy prattled on "I ain't got me a medicine man on the regular, and, seeing as you've the same vested interest in me bein' healthy as you do, I think I'd be willing to let you get to the stabby-stabby. Careful, though, I've... had a few run-ins with shoddy needlework, and it really hits me 'ard. I can gi' ya a ride t' yer place after all is said an' done, here."

Jason leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back.
"Who's a cowpoke gotta lassoo t' gi' some whiskey roun' here?" he bellowed out across the room, hoping to catch a waitress.

That being done, while the staff undoubtedly would make to hurrying over, the Cowboy looked at the mage again.
"The Butcher, eh? Bet there's a story there."

[Ralasha]

Watson pauses, and looks at 'jace' with distaste. "Interesting."

Jo-Anna comms her fixer, and sees to acquiring the vaccines, and a standard medkit, with the normal acquisition fees.

"I'm not offering you a guarantee that I can provide you with said medical assistance, it was an offer of attempt. I am in the process of seeing to the acquisition of the supplies as I speak. I do however, believe I should be going to prep my clean room." She shortbursts her address to the man via her comm implant. "That is where you can find me if you wish to make use of my medical services. Good evening."

She then makes her way to collecting her things, and having the club call a cab for her.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Y'know, a team without each other's 'link numbers is a team that's willfully forgoing a force multiplier." he responded, beaming over his contact information to all the 'runners still in the room.
May as well be him who did it.

[Crux Argentum]

Morning comes and the night passes uneventfully, along with your trip to the airport. Jane is waiting at A14, as planned, and ushers you into a private jet. Your bags are not checked, and the jet is pretty luxuriously appointed. There's even a little bar to help yourself to, complete with expensive liquors and fine wines.

The flight to Asante is pleasant, and Jane provides Jason with a mapsoft of the area between Asante and Lagos for the bike to follow (which was able to be brought onto the private jet) during the flight.

Your flight touches down on a well-maintained runway, and taxis to a simple but well-maintained single story airport. When you get off the plane, your luggage is waiting for you. The airport security, under the protective eyes of four heavily armored border guards, fusses over your travel documents and licenses before waving you on into the "Intra-Continental Waiting Area." An armored guard stands in front of a narrow gate, looking bored. Over the gate is a small sign that reads "LAGOS."

The guard looks you all over, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Going to Lagos?" he asks in English.

Jane nods.

"There's a travel tax for each of you," he says.

Jane sighs. She turns to you. "I'll take care of this," she tells you. "Go ahead and see if you can find our pilot. Goes by the name Innocent Dobiri. He's supposed to be waiting for us here. Tell him Black Mamba vouched for us."

The guard seems content to let you pass by as Jane takes care of the "travel tax."

The waiting area opens out into a private runway. On the runway is a small airplane. At least you think it's an airplane. You saw something like it once in a trid. It has dual propellers and a rusted airframe, and it looks like it should've been scrapped before you were born. A rail-thin African man is leaning against it, smoking.

When you approach, he carefully looks you - and your luggage - over. You see a few flakes of rust drift to the ground when he pushes away from the plane to speak to you.

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin is hardly ready to get back on a plane. He had been on edge almost the entire flight over. Flying is never particularly pleasant for the Awakened; it is much too far from the gaiasphere. Forget going astral either. Finding your way back to your body when it was traveling a few hundred kilometers per hour was always difficult.
During the flight though, Tenzin had at least gotten confirmation from his sources that these people, while certainly unusual, weren't likely to shoot him the moment his back was turned. After getting their names, he introduced himself as "Bodhi".
Examining the rusted out machine in front of the group, Tenzin sighed. He doubted it would be able to hold all of the group and their gear. He hefted his bags, one containing his items, the other containing assorted gifts his mother had sent with him. Tenzin had a few family members in Lagos, and once his mother found out he was going, she had insisted on him bringing presents for the assorted aunts, uncles, and cousins.
He shrugs. "At least it still has engines. Once had a guy try to convince me his plane could take off if the people on the ground would just push it fast enough."

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna raises an eyebrow disinterestedly and looks at Tenzin, "Did he succeed? Also, while that is possible, it wouldn't be within mortal limits to reach an appropriate velocity."

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

"Sort of. The plane was technically off the ground for a split second between the wheels snapping off and the plane running itself into the ground. Luckily, I wasn't on it."

[Ralasha]

Jo-Anna starts laughing.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Jason shifted about nervously, shuffling his feet against the ground.
"Y'sure we need to get on that ru..." the Cowboy paused. What would he think if people insulted the Palomino?
"... er, plane? No offense, but I'd much rather ride."
Then again, Watson's needle-work was professional and done seemingly cleanly, even if she did jab right through the tense part of the muscle. The Cowboy suspected that was on purpose, though. He tended to rub people the wrong way.
He pursed his lips and gave a low, long whistle, keying the Palomino to roll up on his location as he did so - it would look like his whistle brought the thing to him to anybody not paying attention.

His attention quickly snapped over to the pilot, and he focused on the man, picking his words carefully in order to dance around giving out any more information than strictly necessary. He tipped his hat.
"Howdy, Pardner," he said through a tusky smile while tipping his hat, unconsciously affecting a thick drawl as he could have sworn a tumbleweed blew by...
No. That can't be right. Focus. "I don't suppose yer th' varmmit we're lookin' fer?"

[Dimers]

Dressed in scarred grey bike-racing armor, Wes comes up behind the cowboy, unintentionally looking like he's following the motorcycle. The armor seems out-of-place in the potent heat of the near-equatorial airport tarmac, but Wes doesn't seem to be sweating. He has a smallish frame pack on his back, with the armor's helmet attached to the top.

Wes squints and stares off into the distance while he waits for the skinny man to finish his drag and reply to Jace.

[Crux Argentum]

The rail thin man raises an eyebrow curiously at Jason. He takes another drag of his cigarette before speaking. "My name is Innocent." he says with a smile that reveals yellowed teeth. "Going to Lagos, yeah?"

He drops the cigarette butt casually at his feet and snuffs it out with his shoe.

[Thanatos 51-50]

"Yer folks big on irony?" The Cowboy quipped through a sly grin. "Some snake with a terribly borin' moniker vouched for us. One of the fast kind."

[Ralasha]

:smallsigh: Perception check to see if there is anything out of place. [roll0] 10 'hits'. Wouldn't want anyone to have a seizure from using the wrong vernacular. if sixes count twice, and 1's take them away, then 12 hits.
Watson glances over the area around the plane, the man, his fingernails, hair, clothes, shoes, footprints, stance, if it's actually rust coming off of the plane...

[Sinpoder]

After listening to all of this, the monk would walk out of the bar having no questions for the women and then went to go get the immunizations that he was told to get. He would then follow the rest of the group to the plane, again saying very silent as he looked around at the people he was going to be working with and making his own silent judgements about them and their abilities as he did so.

[Crux Argentum]

The man looks at Jason with another curiously raised eyebrow. "Ah yes, Black Mamba," he says as he looks behind you, seeing Jane coming closer to the group gathered around the plane.

"I trust Jane told you already, but there is not a lot of room on my plane. You bring one bag, no more. Bringing lots of medical supplies to Lagos, worth good money," he says with another yellow-toothed smile. "Surely you understand."

"Well, everyone ready to go?" asks Jane. She looks exhausted from the various bribes and getting through the airport in general. Innocent begins climbing on the plane and gestures for you to follow.

Ralasha
The flakes falling off the plane do not appear to actually be rust, but rather some kind of paint. The plane itself seems structurally sound.

[Ralasha]

"I think you might have some blood on your plane there." She begins boarding.

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin follows Watson on to the plane, after double checking he has his foci, gun, and high-grade medkit.

[Ralasha]

Watson, of course, continues looking for anything odd, unusual, or out of place, seeing as she is extremely paranoid, and just good at hiding it. [roll0]

[Ralasha]

DP, screwed up my roll. [roll0] Blach, only 7 hits.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Westree milled uncomfortably outside the plane and ran his fingers over the Palomino's hull.
"So, um... how fast does your bird fly?" he asked nervously, "Want to make sure the horse can keep up."

[Ralasha]

"Considering average in flight speed of a typical passenger plane is approximately five hundred miles per hour, while smaller personal aircraft average between eighty and one hundred eighty... I would suppose this plane cruises at a velocity of about two hundred to three hundred miles per hour based upon it's construction."

[Crux Argentum]

Upon boarding the plane, you find there is very little room to sit. The vast majority of the plane is taken up by large wooden crates. Dobiri motions towards the crates, explaining that you are to sit on top of the crates for the duration of the journey. You are forced to sit with your baggage right next to you, or even in your lap. Worst of all, there is nowhere to strap yourself in.

Which makes you very concerned when you are more than halfway through your flight and you hear the distant chatter of machine gun fire! The plane suddenly shudders as if hit, and an ominous buzzing alarm comes wailing from the cockpit.

"We're hit! We're going down!" Innocent shouts, confirming your fears. He wrestles with the controls to keep her steady. From what you can see out of a nearby window, you are flying above a heavily forested jungle, and it seems there will be nowhere to land.

Short trip... Maybe the sprawl wasn't so bad...

But to your amazement, Dobiri spots a clearing and brings the plane to a bumpy but graceful landing. You are still forced to cling to crates and the walls to stay on your feet but for a landing on an unpaved runway, it wasn't half bad. Perhaps Innocent is a much more skilled pilot than you thought. He wastes no time unstrapping himself from the pilot's chair and lowering the stairs to exit the plane, placing his hands on both rails and sliding down with practiced ease and a worried sense of urgency.

[Ralasha]

Watson quickly escapes the plane as well, aware of the dangers of leaking fuel no doubt present. She draws her pistol as she makes her way out, and moves directly from the door in a straight line to the edge of the clearing, to hide beneath the edge of the canopy, and places her back against the largest of the nearby trees, keeping her mouth open and putting her hands over her ears, in preparation for the concussive force of the blast that may or may not be coming.

When the explosion occurs she closes her eyes to protect against debris particles and shrapnel.

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin follows the Innocent and Watson off the plane. I should've remembered; nothing good ever comes from getting in a plane if you've got mojo. He scans the skies, ready to run off into the jungle if whoever had the idea to shoot them out of the sky came back to finish the job. "Hey, Innocent, are these people you know?

[Crux Argentum]

Innocent jogs around the exterior of the plane, his eyes frantically searching for any sign of damage. He stops and examines where a large caliber machine gun round has ripped through the right wing near the hull. It is only after he has taken a long hard look at the wing and checked underneath the plane to make sure the landing gear is in tact that he takes notice of Tenzin.

"Rebels. Guerillas. Pirates. Living in the jungle," he responds calmly. "Probably trying to steal my cargo. Or my plane. They'll be here any minute." Jane looks towards you all with concern, unslinging her backpack near the plane and rummaging through it to produce an Ares Predator pistol. She slams a clip into it and puts one in the chamber.

"This doesn't look good, but I swear I can fix it," Innocent says, finally turning his attention away from the damaged wing. "But it's going to take time. We are lucky to have found this clearing, I think we will have enough room to take off again if we turn her around. I must go get my tools.."

No sooner than Innocent finishes his sentence and runs off back inside the plane, you hear shouting in the distance - somewhere out of sight in the dense jungle across the clearing.

Map
http://i1351.photobucket.com/albums/p786/CruxArgentum/CrashLandingFight_zpsa7016a0e.png
OOC
Jo-Anna - Pink
Wes - Green
Tenzin - Dark Red
Jason - Dark Blue
Alistair - Light Blue
Jane - Orange
Innocent - Grey

One square = 1 meter.

Everyone can include an initiative roll in their post about what preparations they are making, where they are moving, etc.

[Thanatos 51-50]

Westree
the cowboy stumbles out of the plane, drawing his revolver smoothly from its holster and bolts towards the engine, seeking cover.
Initiative score is 10
Three Passes:
Pass One:
Simple Action one: Ready Weapon (Ruger Super Warhawk)
Simple Action Two: Commence movement to Move to Cover from the jungle (I assume the noise is coming from the "west"?) presented by the plane engine half-way between grid co-ordinates O-27 and P-27. 10/3 = 3.3 m of the needed 10m of movement.
Free Action: Call the Palomino. I know it's already following the plane, but I want to make sure it's coming.

Active Powers:
Improved Reflexes, Mystic Armour, Spell Resistance
Unwounded
Armour: 9/7

[Ralasha]

Watson walks back over to the group. "I was expecting catastrophic damage, not something reparable. Might I suggest we hide in the bushes So as to surprise the people coming for the smuggler who's plane is badly disguised?" Watson pulls out four obviously color coded clips, two red, two green. "So... APDS, or NATO Rounds, suggestions?"

[Thanatos 51-50]

"I'd like to take at least one of 'im alive. Preferably more. Dead men tell no tales. Stick 'n' shock?"

[Ralasha]

"I don't have those. I normally investigate homicides... so stick 'n shocks aren't my preference."

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin sprints for the cover of the trees. They see a guy standing around without a gun, they'll think mage and shoot me first.

[roll0]

[Dimers]

On his way out of the plane, Wes calls back to the cowboy in English, "I shoot tranquilizers. One or two of those should do the trick." He then slaps on his helmet while moving under the plane to get cover from the landing gear.

Initiative 11, two initiative passes. I intend to move to L32.

Comm Status: hidden, spoofed, watchful agent
Active effects: crossbow readied with magazine of 4 narcoject bolts
Armor (B/I): 10/5, nonconduct 6
Physical damage: 0 of 11
Stun damage: 0 of 10

[Ralasha]

For great justice.

[roll0]

Betting I get something horrible.
Six hits is better than I was expecting.

[Abombom]

Alistair had trouble keeping his things together in the plane. His bag kept sliding and getting caught between the crates throughout most of the journey. Having to push aside crates and pick up the bag every little while had strained his arms; he’d grown so weak over the last few months.

As the machine gun fire tore through the air, he couldn’t help but think oh ****.


He swung his bag across his shoulder and exited the plane.

Hearing Watson’s suggestion to take cover in the bushes, he responded “Good idea.” The pirates will probably be looking right at the plane for survivors. Then again, the plane probably makes for better cover…

He didn’t have time to think about it. Alistair darted towards some nearby bushes, switched to thermographic vision, and focused on casting Increase Reflexes on himself.

Active Effects: Thermographic Vision, Armor Jacket (B/I: 8/6, Non-Conductivity R6)


See OOC post for roll information

Initiative Attribute: 4
Initiative roll: [roll0]
Hits on initiative roll: 3
Base Initiative Score: 7
Final Initiative Score (including spell): 9

-

Pass One:
Movement (walking): To K39.
Complex Action: Casts Increase Reflexes.
Notes: Switches to Thermographic Vision.
-
Casting Increase Reflexes at Force 3
Threshold: 2 for first level, 3 for second level.
Magic 5 + Spellcasting 6: [roll1]
Hits:3
Threshold of 3 met, results: +2 Initiative, +2 Initiative Passes

Drain
Drain Code: (F/2, rounded down) +2 = 3S
Drain Test: Willpower 6 + Logic 7 + Focused Concentration 1 = [roll2]
Hits: 8
Results: drain reduced to 0

[Crux Argentum]

Three orks dressed in light combat fatigues and carrying AK-97s come strolling out of the treeline to the west. They make no attempt at taking cover, and soon the natural sounds of the jungle are replaced by a cacophony of fully automatic machine gun fire. Lead flies and the guerillas pace towards the plane steadily.

Map
http://i1351.photobucket.com/albums/p786/CruxArgentum/CrashLandingFight1_zpscc0bedc6.png

Combat Summary
Ork fires a wide long burst at Jason:
[roll0], [roll1], [roll2], [roll3]
Jason's Reaction roll:
[roll4], [roll5]
Glancing hit. No damage.

Ork fires a wide long burst at Wes:
[roll6], [roll7], [roll8], [roll9]
Wes' Reaction roll:
[roll10]
Wes is hit. Roll your Damage Resistance Test in your next post vs. DV 7, AP -1.

Ork fires a wide long burst at Tenzin:
[roll11], [roll12], [roll13], [roll14]
Tenzin's Reaction roll:
[roll15]
Tenzin is hit. Roll your Damage Resistance Test in your next post vs. DV 8, AP -1

[Ralasha]

Watson hits dirt and fires at the nearest ork using APSDs.
Two shots:
[roll0] For 5P (-5 AP)
[roll1] 5P (-5 AP)

[Thanatos 51-50]

The Cowboy floated down to the deck, duster billowing out beneath him, and he aligned the Super Warhawk's sights directly over the other ork's heart.
Jace Exhaled slowly, and steadily squeezed the trigger, sending a single stick 'n' shock round downrange.
Initiative Pass One:
Called Shot: Increase DV of the round by 2, take a -2 modifier to the attack.
Take Aim: +1 to the Dice Pool
Fire: 5 Agi + 4 Pistols + 2 Revolvers + 1 Agi Boost + 1 Take Aim = 13
-2 Range, -2 Called Shot = 9
[roll0]
I count two hits, and not enough ones to result in a glitch. DV of the round should be, if I read the rules right, 10S.
Stick 'n' Shocks work at AP -half versus Impact Armour!

[Space Lawyer]

Tenzin

Tenzin's body armor stops the rounds cold. However, it would be best not to let the armed men know that, so Tenzin slumps down behind the foilage. He then casts "Increase Reflexes".

Force 4 Increase Reflexes
Cast through Sustaining-Health Foci (Rating 3)
Casting: [roll0]
Drain value 4, resist: [roll1]