2072: Game World, IC thread for 2072: Recruitment always open! Options

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]

As you make your way towards the centre of Oxford you gradually blend in with the crowds strolling in the early summer sunshine. Ahead of you the dreaming spires rise in their antique glory whilst the modern corporate spires dominate the skyline off to the east of you...that is an area to be avoided. Although the whole of Oxford (indeed much of the UK) is blanketted in surveillance, here at least the crowds provide you with some annonimity.

The Turf Tavern is a quirky little place reached through a series of lanes and back allies off the beaten track. It is obviously popular with the locals and the place is packed solid...the low ceilings make it particularly clostrophobic. Eventually you have to be directed by one of the bar staff to a table on the first floor. It is quieter here and the elderly gentleman and scholar that rises to great you is the perfect stereotype of his kind

"Bonjour mes amis...Argent said that you would find me. She tells me that you need to travel in our fair isle? Well I am certainly the one to help you with that...please, sit!"

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]

Requiem looked back at his fallen comrade

"He's no chummer of mine. Idiot should have known better than to trust just his armour to a crossbow bolt. Just because they are low tech doesn't mean they can't hurt you! This place gives me the creeps...sooner we are out of here the more comfortable I'll be. And she tells me that our target is inside a former nest! How the frag do we know it's former anyway? Bloody things..."

Reingaging his chameleon armour he ghosts ahead

<<I reacon our ETA must be about an hour now, this turrain sucks but it shouldn't get much harder. You lot get the same spiel about contacting for accurate coords when we get closer?>>

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 20:22 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead follows carefully after Requiem and Stitch. The pair are almost invisible and she can only track them from the occasional flash of heat against the cooler surroundings.

I wonder if I can get this outfit chameleon coated. It's not quite invisibility but a hell of a lot less effort than having to sustaining the spell.

She grins at the faint hiss of discontent from her mentor. She knows she will likely pay for the remark with a harsh lesson on sustaining spells when they get out of the zone.

<<Yah, further instructions to follow when we gets to da first checkpoint. Da lady is keeping dis one close ta her chest. She seemed worried about others snooping about. I assume dat's why she didnt tell us up front. I'd like ta gets in and out quick too. I dont still wanna be here when it gets light.>>

[Fairy]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
PAN=Active; SIN:Nina Okada

"So," Tsubaki slides into a chair. "What do you have planned for us~?"

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

Mordred joins them at the table. "Did Argent fill you in on the specifics of our situation?" He continues talking in a low voice. With such a large crowd, you never knew who was listening in. If there is a menu or drink list of any kind, the adept leaves it untouched.

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:04; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

The professor smiles kindly at you all, cramped around the table or looming in the timbered alcove

"Non, Argent was not so indescreet as that, I only know that you need to travel West, your reasons are your own. I can arange travel papers but it depends a bit on your favoured method of transport? The train is probably the safest, if least salubrious ways of travelling and you are less likely to draw attention to yourselves that way. Security at the stations is of moderate effectiveness and there are spot checks but that is probably less conspicuous than a car. So, how discrete do you need to be?"

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 11:23; Outskirts of Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

The merest hint of a smile appeared on Mordred's face, then vanished. "I don't ever expect to know how discreet I will need to be in this case, but I want to be as much so as metahumanly possible." He thought about their situation. "With the consent of my companions, I feel I should defer to your judgment in this case. Our job is to escort two...highly sought after individuals to the location Argent mentioned. We ourselves are carrying some sensitive tools that might be necessary for our task. Do you believe the train would be the safest method of transport, or do you recommend an alternative?"

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

"I did not ask where you are going, only that you need to go to somewhere in the West Country. That is the domain of the noble classes and travel can be tricky sometimes. If you stick to the side roads though you should be able to slip through discretely. It sounds to me as though a car might be better than the vagueries of public transport, simply by going on what you have hinted at. Hmmm, I might be able to get you permits to visit Glastonbury as scholars on my staff. It isn't unknown for us to use our own transport. Yes, I think that would do nicely..."

[RdMarquis]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
SIN: Spencer Lovett, PAN: Active

At least they could claim to be studying a location he knew some little about. Glastonbury was rather significant to the Arthurian legend. "That sounds like a plan. But there is one other possible complication." Getting Luc where he needed to be safely. Rather than beating around the bush, he decided to mention the issue of the child outright. "Of the two people we are escorting..." His gaze turned to the Collots. "One is that child. It'd be strange for one of your staff to have a toddler accompanying him." In the absence of any other recourse, it might fall upon them to conceal the technomancer's son. Perhaps the mage could do so with a spell?

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 21:53 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

They were deep in the containment zone now. Copperhead could feel the astral taint clearly, like a rash on her armored skin. She makes a face behind her mask. Snake has retreated to the deepest recesses of her mind, a vague presence that radiates distaste and discomfort. Ahead, Requiem and Stitch flit through the darkness, while Ælias and Jess follow silently behind.

Frag it, we're leaving as soon as we find these kids even if it's high fragging noon. I'd rather get cooked than stay here any longer than I have too.

<<Hey chummers, we dere yet? We gotta be close enough ta da rendezvous point ta give da lady a call. Ælias, time ta earn yer keep and get us a link ta da outside world and missus J!>>

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 21:57 PM; CZ, Chicago]

With your skin crawling at the feeling of exposure you wait in the ruins of this once proud city whilst a muttering technomancer fiddles with a micro sat dish in an attempt to contact the outside world. After what seems an age he gives a grunt of contentment and sends you the coords from Argent - it looks like it is finally time to go underground!

Requiem pales visibly at the thought of going down below, that one has some serious problems with this place, more so than the rest of you perhaps, hopefully it won't be a problem!

"Frag me, let's get this over and done with I want to get the hell out of here!"

The coordinates point to a semi ruined plant space for the complex that still looms above you, some sort of medical centre or hospital...the thought of bug spirits coming for the helpless patients flashes across your mind's eye...

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 21:58 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead looks around at each of her companions. She didn't need to be a mage to see their unease.

Frag, I'm damn close to crapping my pants too.

She licks her lips, clears her throat and whispers her thoughts.

"Stay close. Stay frosty. None of us wants ta be here, so we moves fast, gets the packages and gets out. Load for bear and hopes for da best. An' maybe I can't use my mojo here, but if youse stays where I cans sees ya I can still protects ya somewhat."

She waits for the others to move out, then extends what meager protection she can summon over them before following up at the rear.

[SoyKaf Adict]

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:24:22; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: Erica Hallowford
PAN=Hidden, SIN: Vivica Leman

"Yeah." She said tersely and to the point, still trying to sort out just what she thought about him now. Too much to find the humor in his words.

"I'll meet up with you tomorrow for the fresh start, and even if this leads nowhere, I might have something else for us to do, provided it's still on the table. You're an all right guy, Sport, I need time to process this. See ya when I see ya."

With that she lifted herself from the table, throwing up her hand in a farewell gesture. She exited the the Pie Palace with a relieved sigh. Nothing about the mojo world sat right with her, perhaps because she knew so little about it. In any case, she felt more comfortable putting some distance between her and this whole affair. She was good with that, running away from problems until she could cope with them or find a work-around. She was tactical, or at least she liked to think that's what it was, most other runners had a phrase for that though. Running scared.

[JxJxA]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux absentmindedly draws a cigarette, lights it, and puts it to his lips. He savors the tang of nicotine as it enters his system, and listens quietly to the others speak. When Mordred mentions the issue of the child, he offers his own thoughts on the matter.

"Perhaps it is not so strange to have a young couple of scholars bring their child along, yes? We have the people here to play out that part, so long as Madame Tsubaki is willing to engage in the charade. It would be fact mixed with fiction, which I find makes for the most believable cloaks of deception."

[Aria]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]

The Professor frowned at the waft of cigarette smoke from Gemeaux and you can almost visibly see him mutter something about the French.

"Yes, yes, the child will not be a problem provided we write it into your documents. And a family unit always draws less attention than a group of gentlemen travelling together. Fine, I will see to the arrangements. It may take a couple of days to sort the particulars so if you would like to provide me with contact details I will inform you when things are completed. You have somewhere to stay in Oxford…?”

[Aria]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 21:58 PM; CZ, Chicago]

You cautiously begin your approach to the plantroom. There is a pervading smell of rust and stagnant water and it seems clear that nobody has been here in a very long time. Suddenly Ælias reels back, falling into a crumbling pile of desiccated concrete and protruding rebar.

“Someone just tried to access my node. I would say that we are in the right place. I’ll try and contact them if I can, let them know we’re friendlies. Otherwise I suggest everyone turns off anything wireless for now…”

Wading into the murky interior has an unsettling aura about it and in Copperhead’s mind there is a hissed warning. The smell is vaguely metallic, dry over the obvious wet environs. Requiem is visibly shaking now and almost as obviously fighting an internal battle about moving forwards.

Your lowlight torches show you the wreckage of air handling equipment, boilers and other unknown machinery. All of it is corroded and obviously non functioning. Towards the back of this area there are stairs heading down…and you do have to go down, don’t you…?

[JxJxA]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
PAN - Active ; SIN - Maximilien Danton

Gemeaux's lips curve into a smirk as he sees the Professor's reaction. Under different circumstances, he might toss a few offhand observations about the British, but he appreciates the situation. He offers the easiest way out of this sticky predicament that a "simple bodyguard job" has turned into. He wets his fingers with the condensation left on the table from a cold glass of water, snuffs out the cigarette, and expertly flicks it across the room towards the nearest trash can. The cigarette lands perfectly in the center of the can, which teases his smirk into a self-satisfied grin.

"At the moment, we do not," Gemeaux replies, getting back on topic. "We would be most grateful if you could recommend a place, preferably one that offers a bit of comfort along with privacy."

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@E:PL UK
[May 19th, 2072, 12:05; The Turf Tavern, Oxford, UK]
PAN: Active SIN:Bryan Axelross

Anselm sat quietly, half-distracted by the recent turn of events pacing methodically through his mind while the rest of the entourage discussed the plans to provide safer transit to the West Country. The mention of the child and the tangential thought that followed about little details needing to be addressed jarred the priest back into the moment, with a slight cough to follow the Frenchman's comment, Anselm interjected, "Ah and on the mention of small details of great consequence to the traveling papers.... what can you do in the way of provisions for those with arcane tendencies? I know enough Arthurian lore to be useful and pass for a scholar, but tie that in with my talents and we could get a much closer look from any intrusive agencies than we might wish."

Everything had been so well wrapped up on entry but now being an unregistered mage in the UK was making itself felt in the most unpleasant way. Ruefully Anselm considered that he would need to speak with Father Randal about some of the rumors of more esoteric blessings which some of his brethren had mentioned in passing, a way to shroud ones gifts from the enemies of the Lord, without diluting them... that would be a powerful blessing indeed.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
Mark Freedland
[Monday, April 18th 2072, 22:52:27 Seattle, the apartment]
PAN = OFF, ID = Burt Price

Mark and Sil slipped quietly from the suspiciously noiseless car that kept rolling as it deposited them in the back alleyway and proceeded out to the main thoroughfare. Only a slight scuffing sound, made on Sil's rather ungraceful dismount broke the silence of the night and even that was quickly swallowed by the hazy black and silvery orange haze that was Seattle's constant nightly companion. Two liquid shadows, Mark and Sil flowed onwards; just another part of the fabric of darkness that flowed towards the gate, heavily overgrown with a heavy creeping ivy that seemed to take on an ethereal sheen in the half-light of the distant street lights.

Sil edged slightly out of the recess in which the two had taken refuge and peeked around the intervening ivy at the general area where the ARO's indicated the security camera and pinpad assembly would be located. Moments dragged into ages and Mark could only hear the steady beating of his heart, calm and collected but heightened nonetheless as he felt the pressure and urgency to act slowly build.

Finally, Sil edged backwards, so slowly as to appear almost statuesque. He turned to Mark once back in the recess and mouthed words that came across the connection, yet would have been inaudible for all but the best sonic detection equipment, "Looks clean, all lights are green and the cam is looking at the other end of the alleyway, didn't see it move so I think Tony's got that covered as planned. Probably twenty feet to the house from what I could see; lot's of bushes to the right, sand boxes or something and a pond to the left, bout ten feet in... howd'ya want to do this?"

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:44, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

The being of quicksilver and light seemed to flow and dance about her for a time that seemed to stretch into eternity for Morgan's overextended nervous system and, almost at the point of brusquely rebuking the sprite it suddenly flowed back into a thinking man position, "Mistress, you have several identifiers." The sprite resolved into a plaque with romanesque engravings detailing the position and location of each of the possible rfid tags and Morgan almost screamed in frustration; the list stretched for as far down as her mind's eye could reach. I never realized how much information is kept! The paragon sounded amused, if that were possible for a being entirely composed of bits and pixels to comprehend, "What is the purpose of the Vashon Island lingerie line in your case? I was not aware that you had made a data-sharing agreement with another of your kind?"

Morgan blushed a deep red, a full body blush that emanated red light from her whole icon. Quickly, she mentally recomposed herself into a sedate and responsible looking young woman, fully clothed of course and most modest. The NERVE! Morgan found herself once again wondering just how much her guide understood of human emotions and preconceptions. Mentally making a note to reconsider undergarment choices if they could be broadcast so widely to the world she was nonplussed to see that the Horizon SoyChoc bar which she had consumed was apparently telling the world that she had a rather unhealthy diet given the contents of her stomach. "Why?! Why?! What purpose is there to putting a tag in a soychoc bar?!" Knowing the immediate answer, marketing, made Morgan feel no better, if anything it made her even more peevish.

[Notsoevildm]

@E:PL/Chi Town
[July 8th, 2072, 21:59 PM; CZ, Chicago]
PAN: Hidden, SIN: Charlotte Church

Copperhead glares at Ælias as he picks himself up.

"Are you shittin' me omae? I gots all my gear slaved ta my 'link so I ain't shutting it off. We is here ta rescue dese kids so talks ta dem and tell em to stay de frag outta our comms."

She closes her eyes and focuses on her link. She mentally dials the range back to zero just like her decker buddy Slater had shown her.

At least now if they try and hack my link they need to be close enough I can shoot them.

"Lissen up, chummers. I just dialed back my 'link ta zero so if ya wanna talk to me, you gotta actually talks ta me."

She looks at the gaping maw of the stairs then gives Requiem a worried look. She turns to Stitch.

"Stitch, you wanna take point. An' everyone stay sharp. I gots da feelin' we aint alone here and, whatever it is, it ain't on our side."

[Ears]

@Fortune's Forecast
[Monday, April 18th, 2072, 01:25:22; Everett, Pamela's Pie Palace]
PAN=Active, SIN: John Taylor, Edge: 5 / 6

Yup, see you tomorrow then.

Seems I didn't botch it completely. Wonder what this 'something' else might be.

Eating the rest of his cake and finishing his tea, Adrian does a rough estimate in his head, determining that he has enough time to get home, sleep a few hours and be at his uncle's house after his morning meditation.

Mirroring Saint's exit, he sighs as well on leaving the restaurant.

[RdMarquis]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 00:31:44, Dust 514, UCAS Server, Lounge]
SIN: Morgan Senlis, PAN: Active

With her emotions mostly under control, the witch scans the data for anything relevant, all the while muttering rebelliously about insane advertisers. Though, really, marketing was just a small part of the issue. She was being confronted (with some of the most artistic proof possible) that she had been walking around with her daily life on display. As had her peers. You had to wonder who was watching.

Morgan then begins rationalizing about the two digital entities hovering nearby. They were sapient, as far as she could tell. Inextricably bound to her, but sapient. That said, they were inhuman intelligences, even if her paragon was the media incarnate. Odds were they didn't understand her needs and choices beyond the obvious. So it wasn't as if she needed to worry about them knowing. Hopefully.

"They're comfortable, and I'm not currently in a relationship." Morgan said, copying the sculpture. She sent the data to her commlink with a flick of her wrist that indicated the matter was closed.

[Gortrek Bloodspl...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 17th, 2072, 21:26:17 Leaving Крымские дворце (The Crimean Palace)]

Jack made an important survival decision in the moments that followed. Food is good. Sleep is good. I need both. Many other cognitive abilities escaped him at the moment, and the giant troll kept talking at him but it wasn't making as much sense as it normally would. Jack pressed some buttons on his link and sent the troll an address, his address. When he walked in the door the place looked like his, this was a real plus. He kept his eyes open long enough to make it to the bed before flopping. The world melted away with the soft embrace of his favorite pillow.

[onlyghostdancesw...]

@Fortune's Forecast
[April 18th, 2072, 05:00:00 The Pad]

"WAKE UP BOY!!!! You want to learn how to shoot boy!? Get up now!", Jack was abruptly woken from a deep slumber and pleasant dream about becca by the most unearthly screech and a very solid hand to the face. "So lazy pindo! все карточные фокусы и не трудовая этика ... глупый белый мусор." Jack hurriedly snatched the bedsheets back over his now nude body to guard against the sudden chill and sheer terror of being woken by a wrinkled old hag who slowly resolved, through the haze of sleep and drugs, into the old lady from the Crimean.

As he switched his focus around the room Jack realized that it now contained many more cases of stuff, particularly interesting stuff, given that it looked like ammunition crates from old trid documents.