Correct he is unknown to us.
Roll Perception Visual
Full Version: Red Sky at Morning
Ol' Scratch pulls his shades down a notch and peers over them at the Asian meatsack who just spoke, a bit of a snort issuing from his nostrils before he pushes the glasses back up his nose. He just continues to sit there, watching the now-recorded video feed in his image link a few more times to see if he can spot any clues while the others continue to talk.
Computer: Analyze Playback...
Computer: Analyze Playback...
[ Spoiler ]
Toby accepts the transmission and stores away it for later reference, then turns his attention to the holo that the Johnson is displaying. As the brutal images play out in an eerie silence, the spellslinger searches for any signs of magical activity.
[ Spoiler ]
toby
Scratch
[ Spoiler ]
Scratch
[ Spoiler ]
Examines(observe) the video feed in detail
[ Spoiler ]
+Enhanced Perception(6)+Improved Skill Perception(3)+Visual Enhance(3)+Bioware(2)+Cyberware(3)+Nanoware(3)+3(Observe in Detail) = 38 dice.[ Spoiler ]
Trigger keenly watches the playback of the footage, his eyes flashing across the images trying to absorb the details as quick as they are being projected at him. He flinches away slightly when the ork levels the shotgun at the camera, at what could be him if it were his eye recording this.. Unnerved but not off of his game, Trigger replays the feed quickly through his own contacts, noting anything unusual, markings on the security guards, anything in the background that may add another layer to this, and details on the ork.
Roll for Perception (Observe in Detail)
Roll for Perception (Observe in Detail)
[ Spoiler ]
All
Trigger
[ Spoiler ]
Trigger
[ Spoiler ]
After the second run through of the clip across his contacts, Trigger leans back in his seat with a heavy sigh. A possession of some sort. Can't tell if it is willing or not. He didn't look quite dead, but that doesn't rule out the chance of it being Shedim. It seems like they are going to make us work for our pay, not that I mind, haven't had a good excuse to blow drek up in a while.
Running his right hand through his messy white hair, Trigger leans forward again, addressing the Johnson, "No questions from me."
Running his right hand through his messy white hair, Trigger leans forward again, addressing the Johnson, "No questions from me."
A follow up, if you don't mind. When did your first response units arrive at the scene and more importantly could we have access to any relevant intel gathered by them?
"2. c4 Queen's gambit. Your move." As Wind would have put it.
"2. c4 Queen's gambit. Your move." As Wind would have put it.
Scratch excuses himself politely while he listens to everyone's questions and the resultant answers. He saunters over to the banquet table and fills his plate with his fourth helping. "May as well take advantage of the freebies while I can, neh? he mused to himself, slapping a healthy portion of spiced mashed potatoes onto the ceramic plate.
Unfortunately, providing that information is something I am unable to do. That would divulge more than the company is comfortable with about our assets in the area.
I can give you some of our information however. There was evidence left behind of a high powered laser, which you probably deduced from the video. There was also a lingering class 2 background count that remained for a number of hours. As far as we can tell, there was little to no damage to the enemy vessel. There was also no sign of our ship. In the time frame that our assets arrived, it is surmised that magic was used to facilitate their esacpe with the vessel, as it was not found on the sea floor anywhere in the vacanity.
I can give you some of our information however. There was evidence left behind of a high powered laser, which you probably deduced from the video. There was also a lingering class 2 background count that remained for a number of hours. As far as we can tell, there was little to no damage to the enemy vessel. There was also no sign of our ship. In the time frame that our assets arrived, it is surmised that magic was used to facilitate their esacpe with the vessel, as it was not found on the sea floor anywhere in the vacanity.
Toby speaks up from his position propping up the ballroom wall.
"So, If there's no sign of your ship whatsoever, what then is the exact nature of the evidence left by the laser?"
"So, If there's no sign of your ship whatsoever, what then is the exact nature of the evidence left by the laser?"
"Aside from the toasty seamen floating in the water?" Ol' Scratch asks while dropping his plate back on the table. It didn't take an Halberstam to see the J was getting apprehensible about the meet, and he didn't seem all that willing to impart any more information.
"I think we have everything we need," Scratch begins, his attention turning directly to the Johnson while offering his hand, "just let us known when and how to get in touch with you and we'll get to work on this situation ASAP."
"I think we have everything we need," Scratch begins, his attention turning directly to the Johnson while offering his hand, "just let us known when and how to get in touch with you and we'll get to work on this situation ASAP."
Toby cocks an eyebrow in the satyr's direction for a moment, but decides to hold his tongue.
Pieces were left. No trace of the ship was remaining.
I've provided a drop box matrix address. As stated we will require updates every 48 hours.
I've provided a drop box matrix address. As stated we will require updates every 48 hours.
Cloud leans back and looks around casually. He takes note of anyone or anything that may be of interest or may be paying attention to the group, he gives his sensor inputs another once-over, before saving the sensor readings.
Time to get to work.
[ Spoiler ]
Time to get to work.
Seeing no more questions raised, Mr Johnson stands from the table.
I hope to hear good news from you soon. Gentlemen.
He inclines his head slightly, turns on a heel, and exits the room, flanked by his bodygaurds, still looking over their shoulders.
I hope to hear good news from you soon. Gentlemen.
He inclines his head slightly, turns on a heel, and exits the room, flanked by his bodygaurds, still looking over their shoulders.
Toby looks around at the others scattered about the ballroom. Running a hand through his short, coal black hair, he launches himself away from the wall and strolls towards the refreshment table. He speaks clearly, but without looking up from where he is replacing the empty plate of chocolates with a new one almost overflowing with assorted puffy pastries.
"So, anyone got any bright ideas?"
"So, anyone got any bright ideas?"
Trigger watches as the Johnson leaves the room, his eyes following the man all the way to the door before he lets out a sigh and relaxes a tad in his chair. Running his hand roughly through his hair, Trigger rises and stretches slightly, glancing around the room at the others before following the human with the short black hair to the refreshments table. He fills a plate with an assortment of fruits as well as a couple of sweets before finding a glass of white wine and returning to the table.
Taking a sip of the wine and fingering a ruby red strawberry, Trigger turns to the man with the short hair and responds, to him as well as the others in the room, "Well chum, as I'm sure you may noticed from the tridfile, the ork was a possessed entity of some sorts, shedim, channelling, possession, something ya know? Nothing takes shots like without some show, not without some impressive mojo there." Trigger pops the strawberry in his mouth, chewing quickly before continuing, "As for the J's comment on the background count, that's something special. I wish he had told us about how long after the fact that his people showed on the scene, woulda given us a more accurate gauge of their power ya know? Still, its a testament to what we are up against if the ork was possessed by something and able to throw those shots off in an area with BC, means the ghost was much stronger than most." Trigger pops a chocolate into his mouth as he turns to face the others, watching their reaction to the things he had surmised from the Johnson's information.
Taking a sip of the wine and fingering a ruby red strawberry, Trigger turns to the man with the short hair and responds, to him as well as the others in the room, "Well chum, as I'm sure you may noticed from the tridfile, the ork was a possessed entity of some sorts, shedim, channelling, possession, something ya know? Nothing takes shots like without some show, not without some impressive mojo there." Trigger pops the strawberry in his mouth, chewing quickly before continuing, "As for the J's comment on the background count, that's something special. I wish he had told us about how long after the fact that his people showed on the scene, woulda given us a more accurate gauge of their power ya know? Still, its a testament to what we are up against if the ork was possessed by something and able to throw those shots off in an area with BC, means the ghost was much stronger than most." Trigger pops a chocolate into his mouth as he turns to face the others, watching their reaction to the things he had surmised from the Johnson's information.
Ol' Scratch just nods a bit as he once again struggles to figure out how to eat these stupid miniature corn on the cob... thingies. Giving up, he just throws the whole thing in his mouth like a piece of popcorn.
"I see where you're coming from man," he replies to Professor Plum, "but come on. No need to think zebras when you have a horse sitting on your ass. We're in the middle of the Carribean League. You have a black guy decked out like practically every Hougan I've ever seen, obviously possessed, and apparently working with pirates. And one of your first assumptions is that we're dealing with a Jewish ghost? Until we discover something else, I think it's pretty safe to say we're dealing with the Voodoo, not," his voice grows all eerie as he draws out his O's, "some spooooky spirit from beyooond the grave!
"That said, yeah, looks like we're going to be going up against some serious drek. That Hougan was clearly bad-ass, and unless I miss my guess he was being backed up by someone with an Ares Firelance onboard -- I doubt I need to say it but that's some major milspec shit right there, boys and girls."
Tilting himself back on the hind legs of his chair, Scratch takes a moment to have a swig at his beer. He activates his onboard sensors, scanning the room for any signs of a bug or other surveillance gear before continuing.
Computer, Analysis?
Satisfied that they're not being monitored, Scratch leans in and speaks just above a whisper. "As a side note, and only because it might help us all to keep our wits about us, that Johnson was either doping himself up or using some kind of personafix to keep his cool during the meet. It was painted all over his aura as I tried to provoke some responses out of him. Now he could have simply been doing it to keep an edge on us when the negotiations came down, but he could have also been thwarting our ability to assense his true motives and whether or not he was laying it to us straight. Either way, you need to be on full alert on this job. Don't want to see any of us getting caked just because we get careless or trusting. Be sure to double check all your leads and don't be afraid to call in any favors you have; I got a bad feeling about this one... but I'll be damned if that paycheck won't be worth it. What's more, I have a hunch those 'protoype drones' he has us after are anything but; you just don't throw this kind of cash around for some toys. However, like I said, it's just a hunch at this point and I don't have a damn thing backing me up."
He leans back again, his drink-ruined voice returning to normal. "By the way, the name's Ol' Scratch in case you missed it. Feel free to just call me Scratch though; most folks do. I'll probably be the team's meat puppet. Keep me up and running when the shit hits the fan, and I'll do my damnedest to keep you alive in turn."
With that, Scratch shoves another random piece of food he can't quite identify into his mouth and waits to hear what the rest of his new crew has to say on the subject.
"I see where you're coming from man," he replies to Professor Plum, "but come on. No need to think zebras when you have a horse sitting on your ass. We're in the middle of the Carribean League. You have a black guy decked out like practically every Hougan I've ever seen, obviously possessed, and apparently working with pirates. And one of your first assumptions is that we're dealing with a Jewish ghost? Until we discover something else, I think it's pretty safe to say we're dealing with the Voodoo, not," his voice grows all eerie as he draws out his O's, "some spooooky spirit from beyooond the grave!
"That said, yeah, looks like we're going to be going up against some serious drek. That Hougan was clearly bad-ass, and unless I miss my guess he was being backed up by someone with an Ares Firelance onboard -- I doubt I need to say it but that's some major milspec shit right there, boys and girls."
Tilting himself back on the hind legs of his chair, Scratch takes a moment to have a swig at his beer. He activates his onboard sensors, scanning the room for any signs of a bug or other surveillance gear before continuing.
Computer, Analysis?
[ Spoiler ]
Satisfied that they're not being monitored, Scratch leans in and speaks just above a whisper. "As a side note, and only because it might help us all to keep our wits about us, that Johnson was either doping himself up or using some kind of personafix to keep his cool during the meet. It was painted all over his aura as I tried to provoke some responses out of him. Now he could have simply been doing it to keep an edge on us when the negotiations came down, but he could have also been thwarting our ability to assense his true motives and whether or not he was laying it to us straight. Either way, you need to be on full alert on this job. Don't want to see any of us getting caked just because we get careless or trusting. Be sure to double check all your leads and don't be afraid to call in any favors you have; I got a bad feeling about this one... but I'll be damned if that paycheck won't be worth it. What's more, I have a hunch those 'protoype drones' he has us after are anything but; you just don't throw this kind of cash around for some toys. However, like I said, it's just a hunch at this point and I don't have a damn thing backing me up."
He leans back again, his drink-ruined voice returning to normal. "By the way, the name's Ol' Scratch in case you missed it. Feel free to just call me Scratch though; most folks do. I'll probably be the team's meat puppet. Keep me up and running when the shit hits the fan, and I'll do my damnedest to keep you alive in turn."
With that, Scratch shoves another random piece of food he can't quite identify into his mouth and waits to hear what the rest of his new crew has to say on the subject.
Licking the remains of a cream puff from his fingers, Toby discards the now half-empty plate, turning to look for the liquor. Knowing it was going to be there, he spotted his target in no time, and made a beeline to the daiquiri makings while Scratch said his piece.
"Toby."
Pausing, he raises his glass slightly to the satyr before continuing.
"And I think you are quite right about the cargo. I have an inkling that this task, for lack of a better word, is going to prove to be a damn sight more than retrieving a couple or three drones. And if what I'm thinking is right, then we are definitely in for an interesting experience."
He looks around the room, his features set in a strange mixture of giddy anticipation and something between worry and sheer terror. After a moment he seems to remember the drink in his hand, and proceeds to sip at it slowly, obviously reluctant to go on at this stage.
"Toby."
Pausing, he raises his glass slightly to the satyr before continuing.
"And I think you are quite right about the cargo. I have an inkling that this task, for lack of a better word, is going to prove to be a damn sight more than retrieving a couple or three drones. And if what I'm thinking is right, then we are definitely in for an interesting experience."
He looks around the room, his features set in a strange mixture of giddy anticipation and something between worry and sheer terror. After a moment he seems to remember the drink in his hand, and proceeds to sip at it slowly, obviously reluctant to go on at this stage.
"You can call me 'Cloud'. I believe we also have 1 metahuman target to extract, alive. Do you suppose you could introduce yourselves and the skills you would bring to the team, before we adjourn this meeting?"
"I am a sniper-spotter. I am more proficient in spotting hiding people than shooting. But I can handle myself in a firefight."
"I am a sniper-spotter. I am more proficient in spotting hiding people than shooting. But I can handle myself in a firefight."
Toby quirks an eye in Cloud's direction.
"Me? Oh right. Well I must admit that I dabble a tiny bit in the Arcane Arts, and there might even be the slightest chance that I may prove to be of some trivial use by recalling some paltry piece of knowledge on the subject of Magical Threats or the like that I may have run across here or there."
The mage smiles widely at the gun man.
"But enough about me ..."
"Me? Oh right. Well I must admit that I dabble a tiny bit in the Arcane Arts, and there might even be the slightest chance that I may prove to be of some trivial use by recalling some paltry piece of knowledge on the subject of Magical Threats or the like that I may have run across here or there."
The mage smiles widely at the gun man.
"But enough about me ..."
"Gun bunny, punching bag, medic, pilot, hacker, psychologist, entertainer... pretty much whatever we need at any given point. M'main expertise is in taking the hard shots, though, hence the meat puppet bit earlier." Scratch flashes a grin. It's pretty obvious he's had quite a bit of dental work and his nose does, indeed, look to have been broken more than a time or two.
Watching everyone else take their turn at introductions, Trigger finally pipes in as well after taking down some more of the white wine, "I'm Trigger, if you didn't catch it from the Johnson, and I blow drek up with magic. I deal with Threats and I do some enchanting on my down time. I also like long walks on the beach and candle lit.....alright, so what's our plan of action?" Trigger slides right back from joking into a serious mood again, waiting to see what this collection of street trash turned pro could come up with. At least I don't pretend to be more than I am...
OCC Note: This is taking place between Scratch scanning for bugs and his whispered bit of text.
Scratch's eyes narrow as he catches a drone flittering around. "Shit, we got company." Reaching down, he grabs the rim of his plate and sloshes its content onto the table. Then, using it as a flyswatter, he hops out of his chair and starts swatting at the micro-sized fly drone flittering about...
Extermination in Progress...
Scratch's eyes narrow as he catches a drone flittering around. "Shit, we got company." Reaching down, he grabs the rim of his plate and sloshes its content onto the table. Then, using it as a flyswatter, he hops out of his chair and starts swatting at the micro-sized fly drone flittering about...
Extermination in Progress...
[ Spoiler ]
[ Spoiler ]
Clubs!
Cue the Comedy Relief...
[ Spoiler ]
The satyr leaps onto the table swinging his dinner plate madly at a fly now buzzing about his head. It buzzes up to the ceiling out of his reach, and across to the wall.
[ Spoiler ]
Flustered, Scratch narrows his eyes as he takes aim. Then, in a show of masterfulness the likes of which those old Kung Fu flatvids could never muster, the satyr spins around and unleashes his plate in a flurry of fury...
Don't Have Anything Witty Here...
Don't Have Anything Witty Here...
[ Spoiler ]
Toby is caught mid-sip, and almost chokes on his daiquiri at the sight of the goat-legged Scratch suddenly leaping on top of the table, wildly waving a plate in the air.
Cloud looks askance at the antics of the strange metahuman, until he notices the presence of the "fly". Once his attention has been drawn to the "fly", he focuses his sight on it and commands his commlin-radio signal scanner to scan for additional similar signals.
[ Spoiler ]
[ Spoiler ]
As the antics ensue, the goat both swatting at something as well as him throwing his plate at that something as well, Trigger simply shakes his head in amusement and then lays his palm across his face and lowers his head.
Facepalm
Facepalm
The Dinner Plate of Doom whirls aross the room in a blur of eggshell white, smashing into the wall with a *crash*. Examing the remains, a tiny fly body can be seen amongst the porcelain shards.
OOC Note: Partial repost.
Hopping off the table, Scratch saunters over to the remains of the fly and scoops it up. He returns, dumping the remnants down next to his food before taking his seat, combing his hair back with his hand, and otherwise acting like nothing happened.
Now satisfied that they're no longer being monitored, Scratch leans in and speaks just above a whisper. "As a side note, and only because it might help us all to keep our wits about us, that Johnson was either doping himself up or using some kind of personafix to keep his cool during the meet. It was painted all over his aura as I tried to provoke some responses out of him. Now he could have simply been doing it to keep an edge on us when the negotiations came down, but he could have also been thwarting our ability to assense his true motives and whether or not he was laying it to us straight. Either way, you need to be on full alert on this job. Don't want to see any of us getting caked just because we get careless or trusting. Be sure to double check all your leads and don't be afraid to call in any favors you have; I got a bad feeling about this one... but I'll be damned if that paycheck won't be worth it. What's more, I have a hunch those 'protoype drones' he has us after are anything but; you just don't throw this kind of cash around for some toys. However, like I said, it's just a hunch at this point and I don't have a damn thing backing me up."
He leans back again, his drink-ruined voice returning to normal. "By the way, the name's Ol' Scratch in case you missed it. Feel free to just call me Scratch though; most folks do. I'll probably be the team's meat puppet. Keep me up and running when the shit hits the fan, and I'll do my damnedest to keep you alive in turn."
With that, Scratch shoves another random piece of food he can't quite identify into his mouth and waits to hear what the rest of his new crew has to say on the subject.
Hopping off the table, Scratch saunters over to the remains of the fly and scoops it up. He returns, dumping the remnants down next to his food before taking his seat, combing his hair back with his hand, and otherwise acting like nothing happened.
Now satisfied that they're no longer being monitored, Scratch leans in and speaks just above a whisper. "As a side note, and only because it might help us all to keep our wits about us, that Johnson was either doping himself up or using some kind of personafix to keep his cool during the meet. It was painted all over his aura as I tried to provoke some responses out of him. Now he could have simply been doing it to keep an edge on us when the negotiations came down, but he could have also been thwarting our ability to assense his true motives and whether or not he was laying it to us straight. Either way, you need to be on full alert on this job. Don't want to see any of us getting caked just because we get careless or trusting. Be sure to double check all your leads and don't be afraid to call in any favors you have; I got a bad feeling about this one... but I'll be damned if that paycheck won't be worth it. What's more, I have a hunch those 'protoype drones' he has us after are anything but; you just don't throw this kind of cash around for some toys. However, like I said, it's just a hunch at this point and I don't have a damn thing backing me up."
He leans back again, his drink-ruined voice returning to normal. "By the way, the name's Ol' Scratch in case you missed it. Feel free to just call me Scratch though; most folks do. I'll probably be the team's meat puppet. Keep me up and running when the shit hits the fan, and I'll do my damnedest to keep you alive in turn."
With that, Scratch shoves another random piece of food he can't quite identify into his mouth and waits to hear what the rest of his new crew has to say on the subject.
Charlies waits until everyone has introduce himself, before he stands up, straightens his jacket and looks at the oter runner.
Gentlemen, my name is Charlies. I'm a specialist in defensive magic, have a wide knowledge of magic-related topics and am capable of shooting things with a gun.
I'm confident that we, as a team, have the skills and experience to get this done job without any casualties.
Gentlemen, my name is Charlies. I'm a specialist in defensive magic, have a wide knowledge of magic-related topics and am capable of shooting things with a gun.
I'm confident that we, as a team, have the skills and experience to get this done job without any casualties.
The mage had only just recovered his composure from watching the satyr's antics, and is now even harder hard-pressed to keep his laughter in check after Charles makes his bold, and from what Toby can see, quite inane proclamation. Unfortunately he is not quite successful though, and his amusement is clearly etched on his face for all to see.
The satyr, humans, and elf regard each other for an amusing but akward silence.If nothing else, it was a certainty no one would try to steal a bite from his plate, having seen the treament a mere fly recieved for daring to take a bite of his custard.
Approaching the long table once again, Toby takes his time making a fresh drink as he lets his future 'partners' gather their composure. Fresh daiquiri in hand, he turns and surveys the motley group, waiting patiently for a moment when he has the attention of each and every one of them.
"So, does anyone have a decent idea about just how to get this show on the road?"
"So, does anyone have a decent idea about just how to get this show on the road?"
Cloud walks to the full height glass window and looks out towards the Atlantic. Thinking furiously, this area has been compromised. Looking at his teammates in the reflection,"This view is quite good. It is a beautiful sunny day, gentlemen. I hear the girls on Miami beaches are pretty and wild with lust. I think I'd like to take a walk on the beach. Care to join me?"
Then he walks over to the remnants of the fly, "It would seem Miami has a bug problem."
Then he walks over to the remnants of the fly, "It would seem Miami has a bug problem."
Taking another sip of his drink, Toby merely shrugs his shoulders and looks expectantly in Scratch's direction.
His mouth full of cupcake at the moment, Ol' Scratch struggles to swallow it so he can reply. In the mean time, he reaches over and scoops up the remnants of the fly he... captured... and gives it a good look.
<insert Six Million Nuyen Man sound effect here>
Finally choking the delicious cuppy cake down, the satyr looks back up and simply shrugs. "I'm cool with a change of scenery, but I won't be held responsible if my focus wanders a bit..."
<insert Six Million Nuyen Man sound effect here>
[ Spoiler ]
Finally choking the delicious cuppy cake down, the satyr looks back up and simply shrugs. "I'm cool with a change of scenery, but I won't be held responsible if my focus wanders a bit..."
[ Spoiler ]
Finally finishing his first glass of wine and most of the chocolates and fruit on his plate, Trigger nods his head in approval of Cloud's sentiment for a change of location. "Yes, this hotel is a bit too bourgeois for my taste..."
Charlie nods in agreement. Let's go.
Segue
Sammael stands outside in the hotel lobby as a trio of large men gather around her, looking menacingly. Soon a car pulls up to the hotel's drive. it's a good sized black town car, riding low, speaking of extra armored protections. The rear door opens revealing Mr johnson within.
We need to talk.
Sammael stands outside in the hotel lobby as a trio of large men gather around her, looking menacingly. Soon a car pulls up to the hotel's drive. it's a good sized black town car, riding low, speaking of extra armored protections. The rear door opens revealing Mr johnson within.
We need to talk.
Sam nods and flicks her cigarette down to the curb, rubbing it out with the tip of her boot. She nods to the Johnson's goons before sliding inside.
I'm listening.
I'm listening.
You need this job. And my team needs you as an asset. They know their particular department,s but they know nothing of where they're headed. Why did you turn down the job?
This is a "lo-fi" version of our main content. To view the full version with more information, formatting and images, please click here.
Dumpshock Forums © 2001-2012