For a long time now, I've encouraged my players to write. Specifically, I hand out karma or experience (yes, we play D&D also) for character history write-ups, and also for game session write-ups. I feel this gets the players more into their characters, and helps bring the characters and the story to life.
Recently, I got to play again. And my new GM has adopted my policy. So...here's my first attempt at a write-up. Some of you may recognize the adventure.
Yes, I know about the Shadowrun Writer's Forum. I may post this there as well, but I wanted to put it here first as this place has much higher exposure.
Cast of PCs:
Dare (Darius) - Orc Mage, narrator
Bink - Human Technomancer
Merrick - Human Mage
Mystique - Human Gun-Bunny
So, without further ado...MONKEY JAR
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It’s been two weeks, but my hand still feels like ants are crawling around under my skin. Doc Johnson (never did find out if that name is a joke or what) gave me a clean bill of health a week ago – and a rather steep bill it was, too. He told me that the tingling was a natural consequence of having so much power channeled through it – sort of like the funny feeling you get when you’ve been shocked – and that it should go away with time. I’m not sure that I believe him.
It’s hard to say what’s worse: the tingling feeling in my hand from being fried by an over-charged manabolt, or the tingly feeling in my brain from being talked into by a dragon.
I slipped sideways through the boundaries of Morningstar’s ward, which shimmered and flexed around me, and pulled Merrick through behind me before the hole I’d made repaired itself. It hadn’t taken long to discover the weakness in its smooth outer surface, and exploiting that had been a breeze. Inside were Morningstar and his two cronies. Morningstar’s intense aura lit up the room like nothing I’d ever seen before. It was a pure white light, like a child’s innocent aura, only much more intense and focused.
His companions were quite dull by comparison. The first was obviously a mage. I could see the tell-tale definition at the edge of the dark purple glow surrounding his material form that showed his control of the power. Mundanes’ auras usually bled into astral space – they couldn’t grasp the power to hold on to it. The second man also had a tightly controlled aura, but his gave off little light, as if none of the power it contained could escape. It was like a heat sink for the power. He must have been an adept; they focused their power inward, to improve their physical abilities.
Morningstar was on his commlink, talking to whoever knows. But what he was saying…He was onto Goldwing, our employer. I’d never had a Johnson reveal his name to me before – and that made me very nervous. Both Morningstar and Goldwing were mages, in the top ranks of the Children of the Dragon, the followers of Ghostwalker. Goldwing thought Morningstar was a traitor and was dealing dirty with another dragon – and had hired us to prove it. And now Morningstar thought Goldwing was a traitor as well, having apparently been tipped off by someone or something. We had to warn our employer to lay low until we’d finished the job.
I stepped back to the opaque surface of the ward, and started to push through again. But this time, the ward resisted my efforts, and I didn’t make any progress. The flaw I’d found from the outside wasn’t apparent in here! Almost immediately, Morningstar perked up as if he’d been pinched. “Someone’s trying to break my ward!” he cried, and I could see his eyes start to glaze over as he began to shift their focus to the astral.
I shouted a warning to Merrick. Having watched my efforts at pushing through the ward, he quickly tried it himself. Like a true student of the arts, he broke through on the first try. Not a pretty job, but I couldn’t complain at the results. Especially when my own second attempt was botched – I managed to get most of myself through, but the ward closed around my right hand, the one which wore the ornate ring of orichalcum that focused my power.
At this point, Morningstar had woken up completely to the astral, and was setting his sights on me. I could see him drawing in the power, mana swirling around him in a bright, twinkling stormcloud. So much power! I desperately tugged at my hand, but I was caught like the proverbial monkey with his hand in the cookie jar. Morningstar’s eyes blazed bright with anger as he released the power at me…pain…
I had woken up in the back of the beat-up old van the team was using as transport. Merrick worked a healing spell on me; it took a few minutes before my numb body starting reacting to the pain. That’s when I realized I was still alive. My right arm was swollen and scarlet from a bruise – just one, over the entire arm. I couldn’t feel it at all, couldn’t move it. Even now, a couple weeks later, it’s still all sorts of pretty colors.
I’ve been beat up before. I’ve been shot, stabbed, and even almost killed myself with my own magic. But I’ve never been bitch-slapped so easily by anyone. The memory of that night left a chilly feeling in my mind, just as I still had a tingly feeling in my arm. Merrick had done quite a job with healing me, but I was just too far gone to heal it all. I was lucky to even be alive.
At least I got a new place out of it. The old doss wasn’t very pretty, and not very safe. Puyallup isn’t even in the best of times. My new place has a nifty, thick steel door with a lockable peephole in addition to the locks on the door itself. Even the front door of the building has a working maglock, although I know how useless those are against anyone who would be after me specifically.
It’s on the top floor of an old brownstone that is just one more indistinguishable façade in a row of many. I can get out the window to the fire escape in the back when I need it. It’s got fairly consistent power, and running water, which are both on all the time, unlike the last place. The land-lady is a nice, keep-to-yourself type who doesn’t mind that I’m a mage, or an orc. She even let me rent out the attic to use as lab space. Of course, nothing is warded yet – I haven’t been up to much in the astral lately, or even anything remotely smacking of the power.
I’ve got a neat trick for locking the place up. Because I don’t really trust the security of the built-in maglocks, I’ve installed a couple of deadbolts on the inside of the door and windows. Normally, you can’t lock or unlock these from the outside, but with a combo spell – clairvoyance mixed with magic fingers – I can see the locks from outside the door and manipulate them. And once I get the wards up, this will be almost unbeatable by anybody except a more powerful mage. Of which I’ve met a few all too recently…but for now, I’m just relying on the locks. It takes a bit to open them up. No, I’m not paranoid. Much.
A few seconds later, I’m down the stairs to the front door. Ms. Land-lady pauses while sweeping the stairs to let me past. The front door is a double arrangement, two doors with a small room for mail slots and the intercom system between. The inner one is mag-locked from the inside as well, but opens easily when I hit the locking bar. I skipped sideways past the old man on the stairs leading down from the outer door of entryway. He’s almost always there, talking to the air, for all most people know. In fact, he’s a minor mage, mostly burnt out except for the ability to summon his ‘friends’ – a couple of low-powered spirits that he talks to in astral space. Having the local mad-man on your doorstep constantly watching astral space is a nice fringe benefit. I slip a few corp scrip notes into his pocket as I pass. He doesn’t acknowledge the gift, but I know he knows.
One of the nicest things about the new place is that it’s still close to Serge’s. I can walk there almost as fast as I can drive it, and I need the exercise. It feels good to stretch my legs – Doc Johnson has had me on bed rest for most of the past two weeks. While walking, my thoughts wander back to the headquarters of the Children of the Dragon. The run had continued on after my injury – we still had a job to do.
The guards were almost too easy. Bink had control of their comm systems, so we could isolate them at will. And Mystique was a crack shot. Even using gel rounds, it only took her one shot to take them down. This was a good thing, as I wasn’t up to full strength, and was wary of casting any combat magic. We worked our way up to the third floor, and only made one mistake – a guard on the second floor spasmed on his way down, and squeezed off a few rounds. Nobody got hit, but the noise alerted the guards on the third floor.
We snuck up the stairs until we were inside the wards surrounding the top level of the Children’s headquarters. Using my clairvoyance spell, I pinpointed the guards – they were in the hallway, flanking the exit from the stairwell. Anyone walking out would be caught in their crossfire. Fortunately, we had two mages in our team. Merrick cast an invisibility spell on Mystique, and she just stepped out between the two guards. Taking careful aim, she popped them each a good one – one went down like a sack of lead, but the other staggered back against the wall and managed to fire back, pinging a round off Mystique’s armored jacket. Merrick then dropped the spell, and stepped out himself. His quick stunbolt took care of the tough guy.
Still sustaining my clairvoyance spell, I scanned the rest of the floor. Morningstar was in his room, praying, of all things. I saw no sign of his two hired thugs…and I knew I should have. Bink had confirmed that they were still in the building by searching the video-cam logs. I knew one was a mage – that meant they were both invisible. And I knew they were more powerful than me, given my current condition. I had my arm in a sling from the botched recon job the previous night. Merrick hadn’t been able to fully heal the damage from the powerbolt that had ripped me a new one, and I still couldn’t feel my arm. I owed him big-time for saving my life.
We quickly came up with a simple plan. Bink cracked the code on Morningstar’s door and Merrick cracked it open. Mystique tossed in a couple concussion grenades, just to soften up the opposition, and Merrick slammed it shut again. With my remote eyes, I saw the two grenades sail up of their own accord, and then the windows shattered as we heard automatic gunfire. Both grenades then flew out window, to explode harmlessly outside. Apparently, the plan was too simple.
Figuring that the best ideas are shamelessly stolen, we altered the plan. While we couldn’t see our targets to accurately place our grenades, we guessed that they wouldn’t be able to see an invisible grenade to toss it out the window. Merrick cast the spell, and Mystique cracked the door again, stepping aside to let Merrick toss the grenades. Our quarry was waiting again, this time just inside the door. A razor-sharp flash of steel, and Merrick was down and bleeding. Almost simultaneously, a burst of lead caught Mystique and tossed her backwards down the hall, almost to my feet. And then I saw it – the guy with the blade had also dropped a grenade in the hallway!
A feeling of dread tightened my chest – this run was going all to drek faster than a greased pig. And Merrick was hurt bad… I screamed a warning to Bink to get down, and desperately started casting. I was too far down the hallway to reach the grenade before it blew, but not far enough to escape the blast. And with my good arm in a sling, there was no way I’d be able to grab it and throw it away. Bink was just too slow, so we had only one chance. My magic fingers spell wasn’t powerful, but in my weakened state it still brought me to my knees. The grenade rolled back through the doorway, right between the legs of the swordsman, just as he was ducking back through himself. I collapsed against the wall as all three grenades went off, blowing huge chunks of plastic off the walls. There was no way they could survive that.
Mystique got unsteadily to her feet as I tried to catch my breath. Bink checked the room – sure enough, there were two bodies lying in uncomfortable-to-look-at positions halfway across the room. I checked Merrick - he was slashed from shoulder to hip, and way beyond the power of my heal spell even if I’d been at full strength. There was just too much blood…everywhere. His eyes were already glossing over. We had no choice but to leave him and finish the mission.
Venturing further into the room, our ragged team found the door to Morningstar’s bedroom. Cautiously opening the door, we saw him on the other side of his bed, still praying. As we stepped into the room, he rose to his feet and tried to surrender – but I wanted vengeance for Merrick. In a rage, I grabbed my gun and fired. I can barely hit the broad side of a barn at the best of times. This wasn’t the best of times. Morningstar flinched and screamed as the dart buried itself in the wall by his had, but his words finally registered…
“I can help your friend!”
This couldn’t possibly be real. I knew Merrick was dead. His body hadn’t cooled yet; he was beyond medical help…but if there was a chance…he couldn’t hurt Merrick any more. We let Morningstar gather some materials and watched as he performed an arcane ritual over Merrick’s body. Watching astally to make sure that Morningstar didn’t try any tricks, I could see the rifts in Merrick’s aura slowly close, and the spark of life return. I had never seen the power manipulated this way before. I was awed, and humbled – and now we owed this man whom we’d been sent to kidnap so that he could be tried and convicted.
I slid sideways into my favorite booth at Serge’s. The bar is named after its owner; I’ve known Serge for, well, forever, and I remember when it was just an empty building that he squatted in. He pronounces his name “surge”, and it took me a few years to realize that it wasn’t just his street name. He’s fixed the place up pretty nice, with fake but realistic wood on the walls and a few ceiling fans to keep the smoke away. Some time ago he scored a contact that keeps him supplied in real beer, too, not that soy stuff that always tastes watered down. I can relax there; I always feel safe when Serge is around.
Serge was a member of the Bloody Razors, back in the days they were feuding with the Humanis, before they mostly got wiped out. We met on a fateful day when my family got caught in one of their battles – I was still human, then, only 10 years old. We were innocent by-standers, but Dad took a bullet in the chest almost as soon as they started flying. Mom got hit as well, trying to protect me. She lived, but is crippled, in her mind as well as her legs. Like me, she can’t have cyber-replacement, so she’s stuck in a chair. I visit her once a week or so, up in Bellevue. Part of the reason I run is to be able to afford her medical and psychological care.
The trauma of all this was enough to trigger my meta-genes – at least, that’s what Doc Johnson says. I goblinized into an orc on the spot. I also realized my magic potential. Rage and grief powered the ad-hoc lightning bolt that crackled from my hands and lit up a bunch of the Humanis and Blood Razors; the drain from the untrained casting nearly killed me. I woke up hours later in Doc Johnson’s clinic. Serge had seen the whole thing and dragged Mom and me to safety. Since then, he’s been like a big brother to me.
Serge is an old-fashioned kinda guy who thinks that people come to his bar to talk, so he keeps an actual, live barmaid on the payroll. Daisy saunters over and I order a beer. She’s tall and unusually skinny, which looks kinda weird on an orc. She gets really pissed when some breeders mistake her for a keeb. Even more when they find out her name.
It’s early, and not busy yet, so Serge brings the beer over himself, and sits down across the table, giving me the eye. He’s a big guy, brawny, and carrying a few extra pounds that he usually hides behind a greasy apron. He’s only a few years older than me, but because he’s a natural-born orc, with their shortened life spans, he appears much older. He thinks he’s lucky, though; he had five brothers and sisters who are now all dead. Shrugging, I reach for the beer before thinking, and almost knock it over as the crawling ants pull my aim off. Grimacing, I pocket the offending digits and use my other hand. Awkward, but it gets the job done.
Serge lets me finish a long pull before speaking. “Ya oughta have that looked at.”
“Done. Doc Johnson says it’ll get better”
Serge snorts. “He’s a quack.”
I look him over. I know he wants to ask me about the run – I’ve told him a little already, ‘cause we’re that way, and I can trust him. But he’s more street-savvy than that. And he’s patient, too – he knows I’ll come around in time.
“It’s almost painful, ya know? Having a dragon poke around in your head…”
Getting out was as easy as getting in, if you didn’t count that we needed a spirit to carry Merrick, and with both Mystique and I were barely on our feet ourselves. Bink was the only one who came away unscathed, so he was guarding Morningstar. Thankfully, the van had a decent autopilot, and Bink had scammed the inquiries from Johnny Law-Man well enough that they hadn’t showed up yet. A quick call (and some arm-twisting) to oure fixer got us a way through the screwy border checkpoint that divided up parts of Denver, and we were on our way to meet Goldwing and collect our pay.
Mystique had pulled herself together a lot faster than I could, so she took over guarding Morningstar while Bink went to work on the files he’d gleaned from Morningstar’s private system. It didn’t take him long to crack them open, and sure enough they contained plenty of incriminating evidence that implicated Morningstar in a scheme with Lofwyr. Bink smelled a rat, however, and with a little more digging uncovered evidence that showed that the files were fakes – and not very skillful ones at that. Something was definitely wrong here. Someone was setting up Morningstar for a fall.
Things got a bit heated after that. Mystique wanted to turn Morningstar over and get paid and bug out. Bink was wavering, but mostly agreed with Mystique. I wanted to honor the blood-debt we owed Morningstar for saving Merrick’s life by telling Goldwing that the files were a fake, that it was all a set-up. None of us would budge, much, but I was outnumbered. I agreed to hold off, and see how the meet went.
We stopped at the empty warehouse (it’s always a warehouse or a bar, isn’t it?) where Goldwing was waiting for us with the rest of the council of the Children of the Dragon. Something was strange about the place; I could feel it plucking at the corner of my mind, but couldn’t pinpoint the source. As we stepped inside, however, the source became quite apparent.
Goldwing was waiting for us, with other members of the council. But we hardly saw them, as our gaze was drawn upwards. Ghostwalker himself was here! Inside the warehouse, I could feel his presence, a palpable heat that felt like I was standing too close to a fire. I could feel my knees shaking as I gaped at him – this was the first time I had ever seen a dragon in the fl…scales. Part of me wanted to run screaming right back out the door, but we had a job to finish, and we were so close.
We dragged Morningstar forward, and Goldwing smiled triumphantly as he proclaimed his leader’s treachery. He accepted the data chip and held it aloft as proof of Morningstar’s guilt. I couldn’t take it – Morningstar had dealt kindly with us, even though we were the instruments of his defeat. My team members would just have to understand - I had to act.
“The data was planted!” I shouted.
Goldwing spun around and gawked at me. Suddenly, I felt a presence in my mind, as Ghostwalker questioned me and probed my thoughts. I fought to keep myself from resisting, as I knew that would only be more painful for me. Helplessly, I watched my companions do the same as they were each mind-probed in turn. Even Goldwing and Morningstar were examined by the great dragon. Then he ‘spoke’ to us. His thoughts just appeared in my mind, as though I were forced to think them up myself. I felt violated, and completely vulnerable to this powerful being.
“You have some business to conclude.” This was addressed at Goldwing, who shakily handed over the rest of our payment. “And you have some things that do not belong to you.” This was at us – we immediately handed over the items we had taken from Morningstar’s former bodyguards. The dragon then shuffled over to Goldwing – on the ground, it wasn’t quite graceful. “And you have wasted my time with this annoyance.” Goldwing didn’t even scream as Ghostwalker bit him in two.
“…So we got out of there as fast as we could. The Johnson had already arranged for our flights back, so we didn’t waste any time. It’s rather funny how much easier it is to get through customs when you’re wearing a sling.”
Serge chuckled a bit at my joke, “You said it hurt, when the Dragon was mind-probing you?”
“Yeah. He just ripped apart my defenses and forced his way in. At first, I couldn’t do anything to stop him. After he took hold, I didn’t even want to, but I was still aware that the reason for that was that Ghostwalker had taken control. It’s the most helpless I’ve ever been.” My hand shook as I took a swig, so I set the beer down quickly. “It was worse than getting blasted by that uber-mage, Morningstar. That was just sheer power. This…was an invasion.”
Serge grunted. “No, it was just another form of power. You’ll recover from it, just as your arm will heal. You just have to give it time.”
“You just don’t understand. It wasn’t just power. I could handle that. It wasn’t that it batted away my defenses – it’s that I didn’t defend at all. I didn’t put up a fight – I didn’t even try. I knew that it would win, and I let it. It wouldn’t have made any difference if I did try to resist – so why didn’t I?”
Serge was quiet for a minute before asking “Have you used your magic since then?”
The question caught me off-guard, as I realized that I hadn’t. “No. Not once since that night.” A feeling of dread crept into my gut – what if I couldn’t use my magic anymore? “Serge, what am I going to do?”
The big orc took a long pull from his beer, finishing it off and setting it in the center of the table. “You’re going to lift my bottle” he said. “Right off the table, and over to the counter. Just as I’ve seen you do a thousand times before.” His eyes narrowed as he saw my hesitation. “Right now.”
Resigning myself to his task, I reached out my left hand, the uninjured one, towards the bottle. Serge slapped it away almost immediately. “That’s not how you do it.” he growled. “The other hand.”
Angrily, I pulled my near-useless right hand from the pocket where I was hiding it. The pale yellow splotches that remained from the bruising stood out in stark relief against the paleness of my skin. I thrust it forward, pointing the stiff fingers at the empty bottle, and summoned my power. I could feel it swirling around my hand, and the crawling ants burned under my skin, threatening to destroy my concentration. Grinding my teeth against the unpleasant sensation, I formed an image of what I wanted the power to do in my mind. The memory of the Dragon forcing it’s way into my mind resurfaced, but I attacked it with my anger, and gathered the power, directing it forward. The bottle wobbled a little, then rose unsteadily a few inches in the air. I was sweating from the effort, but I looked up at Serge and grinned at him. Serge grinned back, tusks gleaming, a smug look on his face.
Which I just had to wipe off. Focusing my will, I sent the bottle on a few fast circles around his head, skimming only a few inches from his face. Serge ducked and laughed. “You’ve still got it, kid.” He winked at me before getting up to go serve some new customers that had just arrived. I felt a little better after talking to him. Or maybe it was just the beer. Anyway, I could flex my hand a little better, and used it to wave Daisy over for another one. Or two.