IC Reflections of a Full Moon, IC Thread Options

[Fenris]

August 26th, 2074
Bakatare clapped, quietly but enthusiastically, as the radiant figure on the stage finished her song. Her singing was always better with a full moon. It had been almost a decade since Moira started singing at Extassis, and the chance had undoubtedly opened doors and provided opportunities much larger then the small club in Everett.

But still, after 10 years, she sang here and other small clubs dotted around Seattle. Never went big, never signed the larger contracts. It's funny how many of them had hung around Seattle despite not really having a reason to anymore.

She gave him a small smile and briefly touched his shoulder as she passed. She knew why she was here, had even been part of it, in fact. Stefan motioned from the door to the back rooms. He finished the last of his sake and went to see Mr. Carvaggio.

September 5th, 2074
Several days later he found himself pondering the meeting as he waited at another small table in another kind of bar. His room was a small meeting room, outfitted with the latest audio and display equipment, probably capable of putting some AAA corp conference rooms to shame. The Hotel California was practically a legend in the shadows, and had weathered 2.0 better then most similar establishments. Some people called it the Prime Runners graveyard, where retired 'runners went to die. Most of those people were just upset they couldn't get in.

He grimaced as he thought back to the walk here when he'd spotted a mage obviously doing some sort of astral patrol outside the hotel. The mage had spotted him too, and had seemed torn about what to do. It wasn't illegal to be as powerful as he was, but it was dangerous, and Lone Star knew it. The inability to hide anything or deceive anyone about his magic was definitely a liability in the shadows.

Carvaggio had been downright helpful during the meeting, as close to eager as Bakatare had ever seen the man. For someone that was always playing three or four angles, there definitely had to be something else going on. Carvaggio hadn't been overly surprised at his description of the Gallery, and hadn't asked many more questions before agreeing to shake his tree for some help.

It had taken favors called in from half a dozen other fixers he'd worked with during his decade in the shadows, including Winter, but supposedly there was a group of people meeting in the bar outside that included everyone he needed to find her.

He just had to figure out which ones they were.

This post has been edited by eidolon: Jun 28 2007, 01:33 AM

[Redjack]

Atreus slept in late, real late. The sun was already high in the sky when he peered out the windows. He thought thought back to last night. He'd made a house call to see Link. His feelings about the girl confused him. Plenty of time to figure that out later.. Time for food. and he put her out of his mind for now.
****
A short time later he found himself at a stuffer shack eating a burrito of god-only-knows-what.. Perhaps soy... Perhaps Solient-Green.. he thought as he ate the last bite. Since Rick had disappeared work had been scarce and he had to eat this crap. As a boy he'd never realized how good a life he had. Doesn't matter... Yesterday is gone and tomorrow will never be here.
****
Mid afternoon found Atreus on the roof of a four story building in a old neighborhood. He practiced kata for an hour before beginning kumite-renzoko-waza for another two hours. When he finally stopped, the clock was at 16:00 hours. Time to move.

He slipped back out of the building, to his bike and back to his apartment. He showered and changed quickly. Clothes, armor and coms. Goggle, micro-cam and his bike. His possession list was small. He didn't even carry a gun. His job was get inside. Get close.

Atreus was quiet. He wasn't one to talk much. His brother Ammon was more the talker. His mind drifted to the night before once more. Link talked a lot as well, but she trusted so few people. When she was younger, she'd been savaged by a few gangers. He wasn't sure why she trusted him. She was an anomaly to him. Perhaps if he figured her out she would loose her appeal. Perhaps she would see through him and send him away.

An ARO blinked for his attention:
<<@Atreus [Ammon] Bro - I have a meet tonight so I'll catch up in a few days.>>

Ammon always said a few days, yet still he contacted Atreus sometimes multiple times a day. His brother was a constant in his life. Something that kept Atreus anchored in the past and in the present.
****
He looked at his bike as he walked towards it. The same model as his brother's. They had the same model coms as well. Link had done quite a bit of custom work on those. Set them up with the same programs, custom hardware, upgrades... The whole nine yards. Being twins they even looked the same and sometimes dressed the same. When they dressed the same it was usually to mess with people's heads though.

As he rode off towards the bar he worked a concentration game in AR while he thought back one more time to the night before. Link's skin is very smooth and pale. She doesn't like to go outside her apartment. Agoraphobia she called it.

As he rode into the heavy traffic he wondered if she wasn't the sane one...?

[Fenris]

The ARO around the club said exclusive and dangerous in all the ways it was possible. Disclaimers warned of extraterritoriality and swift and violent response to threats. The virtual gateway showed similar disclaimers, warning of permits for black IC dangerous enough to make even a seasoned joy-hacker pause.

Two slender humans stand outside the bar, dressed in a modern version of a doorman's outfit. One male and one female, although similar enough in features, build, and hair style that one could mistake them in dim lighting for each other. Their eyes have the slight sheen of obvious cybernetic replacement, an interesting choice in a day and age where anything cybernetics can do nano-etched contact lenses can do, but without the surgery. Slim, sleek, and efficient, they were the model of professionalism. Silent unless necessary and unflappable, they appeared to see everything around them without having to look.

[Meriss]

An elf strands in line in front of the California. He is clearly not dressed for the upscale environment but he doesn't seem to care. He moves easily to the front of the line, "Go ahead Mr. Burns" says the female bouncer after he pays the cover. He walks efficently to the meeting room.

He enters quietly and greets the Japanese. "Konichiwa, Bakatare-san" How's biz omae?" he waits for the mage's response and seats himself facing the door. "What manner of run might we be pursuing tonight?" Dervish asks knowing that Bakatare will not answer until the remainder of the team arrives. He simply enjoyed the the quiet Japanese man's professional manner and trying to make the facade crack.

He pulls a pair of AR glasses out and begins reading an old data chip he brought to pass the time.

[WearzManySkins]

Clay was coming back from eating at Momma Growby’s, as a young Ork boy, a kart, got his attention. The kart was standing near the entrance to Clay’s residence. Clay looked the kart over and then the area around the kid.

Clay did not see anything out of place, so he approached the kart. “Skraa, who do you seek?� The kart looked at him closely. “I seek you Clay Moor, I have something to deliver to you� The kart then reached slowly into his jacket, and brought out a envelope and handed it to Clay.

Clay looked at the envelope, it was a very high quality paper, and had his name written in very large flowing script.

Clay started to reach into his pocket for some change to pay the kart. “I have been more than well paid for this, I was told to refuse any new yen from you, but thanks anyway� said the kart. He then walked away briskly towards the market area.

Clay watched the kart leave, then again did a slow visual scan of the area, and once he was satisfied nothing was out of place, he accessed the security of his residence, and had it unlock/deactivate the security measures. He entered quickly and closed the door; he then reached over by the door and deactivated the explosive charge by the door.

Clay walked over to the table and sat down at the chair. He felt the envelope; he felt a small hard object, and something like a piece of paper inside. He took out his combat knife and gently cut open the envelope, once open a chip fell into his palm, followed by a 100 new yen note, torn roughly in half. He placed the chip and the note on the table. He then reached into his jacket and in plassteel clip he removed torn 100 new yen note. He placed the pieces of the two notes together, the torn edges matched up perfectly. Clay nodded and then put the two back into the plassteel clip.

He then has his Commlink access the chip, as he reads the contents he gives a tusked smile. “Old Debts have come to be repaid, that is very good.� He then places the chip into his jacket and places the envelope into paper recycler by the table.

After the recycler has done it job, he gets up from the table and walks over to a cabinet, he deactivates the explosive charge on the door and opens it. He looks over the contents, takes out a pistol, and removes the SMG from its place underneath his jacket, changes holsters and puts the pistol into the holster underneath his jacket. He places the SMG into the cabinet, along side the other weapons there. He briefly runs his hand by each weapon there, checking its status and condition. He removes the extra SMG clips from the back side of his jacket and replaces them with extra clips for his pistol, he checks to insure each is properly secure. He closes the cabinet and reactivates the explosive charge.

He then goes into the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror there, then opens the cabinet behind the mirror; he takes down some cologne and some fabreeze. He then turns and unlocks a metal door across from the mirror, the will remove the two panels on the front of his vest, and replace them with two other panels from inside the cabinet. He will then take out three airfoil grenades, one flash bang, and two thermal smokes; he will place each inside his jacket. He then closes the cabinet, and relocks it.

He then stands in front of the mirror, and spray his clothing down with the industrial strength fabreeze. Then applies the cologne to the sides of his neck, and then takes a deep sniff and nods.

He will leave his place by a back door, then relocks the door and then reactivates the security system via commlink. He will walk to his motorcycle, remote starts it, and gets on. He rides out of the underground, and heads toward the club where the meet is to take place.

Once near the club, he will park his motorcycle, as close as the parking allows.

He will walk towards the Club, making note of the two door persons standing on duty in front. He will wait his turn in line, once in front of the two, he will hold his hands up palms facing out, and then will make small movements pointing to his inside jacket. He will slowly open his jacket, showing the weapon holstered there, and the three hanging there. He will slowly take out the chip and flash it at them.

“I am here to meet a person, in a meeting room� he will then wait for them to respond.

[DireRadiant]

Harriman was to blame for this. Gregor was fortunate he could wear a hat, he shuddered to think what it would have been like to go hatless at the afternoons session of the Lady Wednesday Quilting Club if he hadn't been able to protect himself. Another item he was grateful was he had somehow managed to skip the other inherited family trait and thus was able to use the proffered silverware when the sandwiches were brought out. Harriman was going to pay. Technically the Ladies were paying the Diocese, Gregor ensured that, but he had implied that there would be far more gotten out of sponsoring the dioceses' new Boy Choir. There'd been the rapidly cleared misunderstanding that no young boy would be emasculated, but then he'd mentioned the latest Austrian Choir composer and started a discussion on the latest group simsense performances and how well they were received. Harriman was going to have a hard time using the donations for anything other then building the best Boys Choir West of Salt Lake City.

The afternoon's event still had led to him using up yet another tube of the special natural skin toned sun block, and after that, he had to cover himself with soothing ungents, which distressfully enough would inevitably stain his outfit at some point, and he'd have to send it to the cleaners. Nothing visible of course, but the thought of sending yet another of his tailored silk suits to the brutal chemical handling made him wince. But it was better then red blistered skin falling off. Not even silks felt good when that happened.

Gregor stopped sipping his ice cold lemon tea and glanced around the Hotel California again, sweeping in the enjoyable atmosphere, a sharp contrast to the small minded cloying concerns of the gaggle of elderly idle women he'd been manipulating for money earlier that day. People were happier here, and there was a vibrant joy exuded, something to give him hope, except he knew well enough the dark things lurking in the shadows waiting to pounce on the unwary. He was one of them himself.

The bouncer's had accepted the image of the leisurely wealthy man of the town he'd projected on arrival in one of Miltons limo's, the prior reservation didn't hurt either, and he'd arrived early enough to get a relaxing drink in, along with some idle chatter with a charming middle aged elfin maiden. When he'd given her his regretful tusked smile and subtly hinted he'd other business here, she'd flowed off gracefully to join another group. Which left the archaically well dressed ork to stand there in his white shirt and tails to scan the crowd with his monocle and wonder when he could join the gathering group responding to the summons.

Shall we be Brutus and Marc Antony at the gathering of Honorable men tonight?

[WearzManySkins]

Clay will very slowly hand over the airfoils, and the two panels as per the Door Person's Request. He will then slowly close his jacket, take the receipt for the items they have taken into their custody. He will then nod to them and proceed into the establishment.

Once inside he will access the hotel's AR, get a map and directions to where the meeting room is. He will also give the area a slow look around, taking in the sights and things.

He will then proceed in a leisurely manner to the meeting room. Once at the door, he will slowly open the door, enter and close the door gently after he enters.

He will take note of those in the room, the elf with some AR glasses on, and then Bakatare.

A big silver tusked smile comes across his face as he sees Bakatare. "Greetings Bakatare, well I can see, and doing well I hope."

He will then walk over to the refreshment area, a longing look at the various alcoholic drinks. No alcohol until after the meet, ya overgrown meat head. Last time you got real sloppy, and split your drink on the Johnson. He will look over the non alcoholic selection, and choose an local energy tea beverage.

He will turn, open the container and proceed to the seating by the windows. He will take a drink and then give the elf a large grin. He takes out a pair of glasses and places them on his face, then watches those seated. He will place both of his hands on the table, palms down, fingers spread.

He will look around at the walls, windows, and seems to be calculating something in his head as he looks at them.

[Redjack]

Atreus pulled out of traffic and parks the bike in the secure garage by the club. He then sets the alarm. Sometimes simply was best; No wireless.

He looks down at the clothes he selected. If nothing else, Ammon is good for keeping my clothes nice and new. The reference is, of course, to his brothers mastery of the arcane and one of his favored spells that changes and repairs clothes. Atreus had initially wondered why his brother had selected that spell as one to spend time and effort mastering. That is until the first time it saved their hoop during a run.

As he approached the building he ignored the various AROs assaulting his field of vision. While some people find the constant bombardment of information unsettling or at least distracting, Atreus likes it and uses it to keep his senses honed to focus on multiple things at once. Ammon always called him a freak for that. Of course, being his brother it didn't really matter if he meant it maliciously or affectionately, it just was.

He gives a subtle nod to the doormen as he passes through the weapon scanner. Their cold professionalism a welcome contrast to Link's incessant conversation. Play time is over. Time to work.

After a quick recon of the room to take in the various patrons already on site Atreus moves towards Bakatare's table. As he slowly walks, he maps out every customer in the room with various icons in his AR using a little application Link whipped up for him. For Atreus, the meet signaled the start of a run and time to be paranoid.

Bakatare was always a mystery to Atreus who never understood why he had made the introductions he did for Atreus. The brothers had nothing if not a rep for paying people back, good or bad. It all went back to that first day in Seattle and their six hours as Ancients.

He nods to Bakatare, not really knowing what to say to the man, then to the elf and orks already at the table. As he sits he sends an encrypted reply to his brother Ammon's earlier message:
<<@Ammon [Atreus] At a meet myself bro. Not sure how long I'm gonna be tied up with this, but I'll let you know. Also - You were right I did find a use for those clothes you magic'ed up, but if you don't come get those boxes of your old books out of my place I'm still gonna throw them out.>>

[Fenris]

Dervish - Bakatare smiles politely in greeting as you enter, rising enough to give you a small bow of respect. He does offer up a wry smile at your question, motioning towards a selection of drinks and snacks that are laid out against one wall.

"All in good time, Dervish-san."

His Japanese is impeccable, the crisp tones of a highly educated native.

Clay - Bakatare will actually smile as you enter the room. He seems to have been already standing, but he offers you a respectful bow.

He retakes his seat as you move over near the beverages.

"I am doing well. I hope you and your associates have fared better since we last met?"

Gregor - The meeting time was 5:00pm, and a true gentleman was always prompt.

The Sarasota room was the one reserved for the festivities, and a polite waitress was able to direct you to the third floor, a floor consisting almost entirely of private rooms. Getting rooms here wasn't just expensive, but you had to know people. The best protections money could buy, however.

Several people seemed to have arrived before you, both of them seated and apparently waiting.

Bakatare rises as you enter, offering you a bow that bespoke equals.

"Thank you for coming. I assure you, this favor will not be forgotten by myself or my associates."

[DireRadiant]

With a short bow of his graying buzz cut hair, the ork reaches into his waistcoat pocket with his free hand, the other holding an black leather wrapped cane with an ornate silvered handle, and produces a creamy white 8 cm by 12 cm card embossed with the following in silver flowing script::

Sweetness
<<H283872NDKSM 73243 J87234>>

"My Card", offering one to everyone with a smile.

[BishopMcQ]

Flicking his cigarette in the general direction of the ashtray, Porter turns away from the glowing bastion of digital might and stares at the more tangible brick and mortar of the Hotel California. In the glory of AR, agents had scoured the outside of the building, ready warriors able to defend the hard carapaced creation beneath them. Without the computers, it was blase. One hotel out of a hundred others across the planet, designed to give off the illusion of warmth and welcoming, but an illusion is all it was.

"Time to get this shit over with..." he murmurs to himself as he crosses the street and heads for the main lobby.

The lights of the lobby bring out the smaller details, small stains that Porter had done his best to brush off. Black slacks that had faded to brown over the years, an untucked dress-shirt. The ork could have been a grunge model in his three-quarter length jacket, though he didn't carry himself with the right attitude. His clothing wasn't designed to look the part, it had just been slept in enough times to come out that way.

His image link brings up a picture of the man that Wolf had sent him to meet. Of course it was obvious that the sycophants had gotten there first, murmuring politely amongst themselves as they exchanged antiquated pleasantries. Walking past them, bumping shoulders when they didn't get out of his way, he stops in front of Bakatare.

"Wolf sent me. He said after I do this thing, he and I are square, and you and he are square. I'm here to do this thing. Soka omae?"

With the necessary greetings made, Porter drops down into a seat a couple tables away from the moths surrounding their flame.

[WearzManySkins]

A smile comes across Clay Moor's face at Bakatare's words

He will watch the others as the enter the room, noted things of each.

He will stand as Sweetness offers him a card.

Skraa, glad to meet you. I do not recall seeing you before, I am Clay Moor. You fit in better than I here.
Clay Moor's Or'zet is very fluent and passionate of a native speaker.

He will take his seat, and watch the entrance of Porter, with slight smile of amusement.

[Fenris]

Porter - Bakatare merely arches a brow at the somewhat abrupt introduction, but he nods at the end, indicating both accuracy and understanding.

Atreus - The thin Japanese man smiled as he always did when he saw you or your brother. Oddly enough, it seems fairly genuine. The introductions he had made he helped, but never seemed like charity.

Sweetness - He seems more amused then anything as he accepts the card.

[WearzManySkins]

Clay Moor will await a few moments after speaking with Sweetness.

"My apologies Sweetness, I did not know. I gave my name Clay Moor, I said that glad to meet you, and that you fit in here better than I did."

Clay will incline his head for a brief moment, then return it upright. A big silver capped tusked smile will come across his face.

[Redjack]

Atreus accepts the card from the ork. How quaint.. he thinks. When the man sent by Wolf makes his speech, Atreus again silently watches the show. He might be a problem..

He watches the various players in the room as they settle in, quietly watching as Atreus is prone to doing. Perhaps this is reflective of the quality that he mosts admires about Bakatare. The man's quiet way of doing things. The gentle smile that radiated from within when he chose to allow it to be seen. The way that he radiated an inner power without flaunting it. Atreus looked back at the man, waiting contently for the man to break that silence and tell them the reason they had all been assembled.

[Meriss]

When Bakatare responds in Japanese, Dervish knew that showing off his newest attempt to sound like a well traveled individual had been a poor choice. He knows full well I can't follow his lingo the elf smiles and nods at the string of foreign words. He catches the peculiar distortion of his street name that lets it fit into the language. I hope he didn't just call me a drekhead

He removes his AR glasses as the first Ork enters the room. Hmmm... No gang I know. Underground maybe? He carries himself like a fighter. And he's quiet, bonus.

The entering elf is a pleasent suprise. Good, I won't be lacking for intelligent conversation. Let's see, tall, tanned and solid. Another fighter perhaps? The Tir ladies must love him. As long as he doesn't bring them on a run, we'll be fine.

The older Ork is something of a shock to Dervish Well I suppose the law of averages must apply at some point. Even for trogs. Definate face, but does it fight or sling mojo, we shall see. He accepts the card with a fluid gesture. He smirks internally as he reads the card Sweetness!?? There's a story behind that name. I hope to hear it sometime. He pockets the card.

The rudely entering Ork was a breath of fresh air to Dervish A honest prick, pleasent at times and I can deal with him if he becomes too annoying. But what do you expect from trogs? Well, well, this is definitely not what I expected from Bakatare. I wonder what he has planned for us?

[Buddha72]

The sound of the distant prayer bowls floated in through the open shoji panel as Ikari made her offerings to the kami. She face pressed to the tatami mat in front of the small altar. She sat up and extinguished the candles and takes one more deep breath of the incense before raising to her feet. She moves towards the open door and takes a moment to appreciate the inherent tranquility of the gardens in the back of the small buddhist temple nestled in the noise and chaos of the International District.

As she watched a pair of monks in a walking meditation make their way through the garden, she once again wondered why Bakatare had sheltered her during the Purge. She watched as the Korean led Yakuza were being cut down left and right. She ran and tried to hide but was certain as she was doing was delaying the inevitable until he interceeded on her behalf. It took several assassins being burned from the inside out before she was taken off the list. He is only request of her was a favor to be discharged later and that she live in this house.

The first she expected but the latter still seems odd to this day. When she asked around about the house all she found out was that an eccentric Japanese woman lived her for many years before moving out. She was a buddhist of some passion but not a nun. Her name was Onna which simply meant woman or female. She had felt the taste of magic and weight of her karma when she took residence but nothing since had been uncovered.

Shaking herself loose from her musiings, she slides into her shoes and closes the door to her home. Making her way to the small garden gate that leads to an alleyway, shes pauses and offers a deep respectful bow to another monk tending a tree near the wall. Moving out into the alleyway the stench and chaos of the city slams into her. This was the world she felt more comfortable in. While it was innately hostile and indifferent to her, she found it more predictable and easier to cope with. Her car chimed and powered up as she drew near. Sliding into the driver's seat, she made her way to the Hotel California.

The drive goes quickly and she pulls up to the valet station. She makes her way to the main entrance and polite inquiries where to meet Bakatare. She makes her way to the private meeting room. She once again feels the stares at her archaic form of dress though here it seems less intense than usually. Entering the room, she pauses and bows to the collected group. Her bow is deep enough not to offend and to cover her if someone here is more than she knows. She then bows deeply to Bakatare. Her Japanese is crsip and formal, her tone firm and polite.

"I am humbled that you recalled the debt that I owe and have allowed me the opportunity to try and repay you for your gracious kindness in the past." She pivots slightly and addresses the rest of the people gathered in English. "I am honored to meet you, you may call me Ikari." Introductions done she moves aside to alllow anyone else joining them free movement through the door.

[WearzManySkins]

Clay Moor watches the female enter, and her interactions with Bakatare.

" Skraa, Ikari, I am known in the dark places, that Ones live in, as Clay Moor"

Clay Moor will then waits to see where she sits and by whom.

He will take another sip from his beverage, while waiting.

[Meriss]

The elf watches the woman enter Quite lovely for a human, sounds Japanese, polite, but what are her skills? Ikari hmmm? She seems to respect Bakatare, spell slinger perhaps?

He watches the Ork greet the woman He has manners, amazing, a race patriot most certainly.

He rises and fetches himself a bottled iced tea, a small package of nuts and a Soy-Jim. He returns to his seat, as he sits again he speaks for the second time tonight "Your pardon all, I am Dervish. Bakatare-san, are we assembled, shall we get to business? Unless anyone wishes to continue the pleasentries?"

[DireRadiant]

"Misery acquaints a man with strange bedfellows." The Tempest, act 2. scene 2

He'd gotten out of his seat with the latest entry. The polite bow had been returned in punctilious form, and of course Gregor had been careful to place his card before her place at the table. A true Lady never accepts a card from a gentleman's hand.

One regret he had so far was the limitations imposed by languages. He could afford the best translating softs, but the perpetual glitches and problems in critical situations made him reluctant to rely on any electronic device. He was never going to hear the end of it about what he had proposed to Sister Monica on her visit from the Vatican. He had only intended to compliment her zeal, but the resulting fiscal and process audit had been painful. Though not as embarrassing as getting pushed through the centerpiece stained glass window during noon mass. It had turned into a double whammy, the reconstruction bill and insurance hike had counted in the audit as well.

He kept a friendly smile on his and acknowledged each person in turn with some eye contact and a motion of his head as he looked around the gathered group and awaited to hear how he could help.

[Buddha72]

Ikari took a moment and examined the card, finding it odd but charming in this world of wireless communication. She took care to seat herself near the others without crossing the line of personal space. She takes a moment to address the Orks in the room. Her Or'zet is fluent but lacks the flavor of a native speaker.

"I mean no offense and apologize if my question seems rude but I was curious if any of you are with the Underground?" Her tone is sincere and respectful.

[Fenris]

Ikari - Bakatare rises as you enter, his normally quiet exterior breaking for a deep smile as he bows, deep enough for those that know these things to afford you much more respect and position then is customary.

"You honor me with your presence, and I hope that my request has not and does not inconvenience you any more then is proper."

He gives her a moment to settle herself and for conversation to wrap up before rising.

"I will try and keep my speech short, since I know you are men and women of action.

I have called in markers, debts, favors, and now owe a few more myself in order to assemble the group of people in this room. I realize this isn't your standard run. I'm not going to be offering you nuyen for a job. You're all here to return personal favors, which seems appropriate since the issue here is personal.

About 9 years ago I participated in a trip to the metaplanes. Somehow, we ended up in a small pocket that worked a little differently. We met the Dweller, who was an ancient god-like creature forced into servitude by the Eternals that lived there. Each Eternal is the personification of a concept, including Fate, Desire, Despair, and Chaos, among others. Each of these Eternals has a gateway attached to the Gallery, which was where the Dweller lived.

During our trip, I was cursed by Potmos, the personification of Fate, for denying my own. Now, I've been stripped of my ability to hide or deceive in any way about my magic or my magical ability. As you can imagine, this is a serious liability for someone in my position, and detracts greatly from my ability to quietly retire and disappear.

So, I'm searching for a way to break the curse.

I've brought you all here to help with that.

I can't guarantee that it will be over quickly, or that it will be easy. In fact, I don't even know where the trip will take us.

However, I understand that any army needs supplies and resources, and it standard Shadowrunner fashion, I've decided to acquire those resources through a bit of illicit activity. Once we've got a bit to live on, we'll move on with actually addressing my issue.

I have a safehouse that we'll be working out of near the edge of downtown Seattle, in a B rated neighborhood. Any specifics about the actual tasks will be worked out there.

Does anyone have any questions or concerns that is keeping them from accepting and coming along?"

[WearzManySkins]

Clay Moor will turn to the who can and has learned Or'zet unlike many who have not.

Skraa graceful one, I am passingly familiar with the Ork Underground, is that the Underground in which you refer too?

He gets a large grin on his face as he answers, showing off his silver capped tusks, and causing the tattoos on his face to form new shapes/patterns.

He will then turn and listen to Bakatare's words.

Clay Moor's smile gets even bigger at the end of Bakatare's speech.

[DireRadiant]

"What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide.?" 3 Henry VI, act 4 scene 3 Gregor raised a peppered eyebrow, then shook his head slightly, "Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie."All's Well that Ends Well, act 1 scene 1 with a nod of assent, "I will redeem my Word."

[BishopMcQ]

"I started working when I walked in. If we're moving this party, you just have to tell me so. Can I presume that we will complete this conversation in a civilized tongue that everyone can understand, and by that I mean English?"

Standing up and looking over the rest of the team, Porter shakes his head.

"Now I'm told that you can get more help with a two by four and some honey than just the two by four, but this keeps people from getting sticky. Some of you are smarter than you look, others are a lot dumber. Either way by the time we are done working, I'll get you all sorted out. Now let's get moving."