So, we played a game last night - and one of the longest playing characters (he was there for the first run), bought the farm. A Grade 5 initiate discovered that magic will only get you so far, and that repeated bursts from a shotgun and SMG targeted specifically at you will drop you sooner or later - even if you blow 24 karma on buying successes!

Here's the story:
Daq’s Fall
Aarik sat at the table, nursing his beer, next to Frank. With their back to the wall, they could see most of the club between them, watching the crowd drink, dance and relax. Dantes was always busy on a Friday night, but tonight there was an edge to the atmosphere. People were having trouble relaxing, and the bouncers circled the club watching for trouble. The young Japanese one glided around the outside of the dance area, scowling at people. A sword hilt protruded from the top of his jacket, evidently held in a back scabbard under the loosely fitting garment. The other guy, a fairly standard looking anglo, watched from the edge of the stairs to the dance floor, his eyes always moving, looking at people and evaluating. You could tell he was a cop by day – he just had the look about him.
Frank grabbed another handful of nuts from the container on the table, and washed them down with a gulp of beer, then burped, pushed his chair back and headed to the gents. Aarik sat at the table watching the drinks, and thought back on the road that had led him here.
It had all started months ago, late in June. They’d been riding up the interstate, a big mob of them, all fairly chilled. The gang had just pulled off a nice little number, and had found a warehouse belonging to the Mocking Dollies. When the Dollies were off on a job themselves, they’d broken into the warehouse and cleared the place out, and left a nasty little surprise for them. With a huge haul of untaxed beer and dodgy liquor safely stashed away, the gang had been heading back to their turf late at night. They hadn’t really had any warning... they were just cutting through the slow moving traffic, about thirty of them, weaving along the white lines and minding their own business. They caught up with traffic a bit that was slowed after an on-ramp, and then suddenly, all hell broke loose. The front rider, Dave, pulled out his shotgun, turned to the next biker and just blew him away. Of course the traffic slammed the anchors on, as did the gang, and it all got a bit crazy. A chunk of the front riders pulled their guns, and turned on the rest. Some of the other gangers went down as someone in one of the vans up ahead opened up with some kinda monster handgun, putting holes in people the size of coke bottles. Then these creatures just appeared outa nowhere and started to throw people off bikes, clubbing at them with hands like massive boulders.
They fell back of course, amidst the chaos- and whoever was in the van got away. They tried to trace the vehicle tags, but they were faked – so it was obviously some other crew. But after the chaos started to die down, Whisper, one of the gang’s two spell slingers said that he’d got the taste of the mojo used in the attack. He said that someone had used magic to get Dave to turn on his mates and open fire – someone powerful. Galen, his sister, backed him up – she said she’d tasted the same thing from the things that attacked – elementals she called ‘em. They had no idea who had attacked us, but if they saw ‘em do magic again, they’d be able to say if it was them.
We also found out that Vern was pissed. Like major league pissed. Big Vern has been the leader of the Neon Wirez for the last year, since he beat up the last top wire, and killed him with his colours. No one messed with Vern, not if you wanted to walk again anyway. But he was as angry as I’d ever seen him. During the fight, someone had put a round into his girl, and she died in his arms on that freeway. Died with her blood streaming all over his wirez, making the neon glow red. He promised her that he’d get ‘em good, that he’d find out who’d dissed them on their turf, and he’d make ‘em pay.
It took months mind, and of course we still took care of Biz. Keeping an eye on our turf. Dealing with the other gangs. Fencing stuff, stealing stuff, dealing drugs. Whatever it took to keep us afloat. A couple of people tried to take liberties, thinking we couldn’t defend ourselves – so we had more than a few duels to settle.
Whisper and Galen came up with a plan see, and got Vern to sign off on it. They knew they were dealing with someone with the talent. That means someone that could make ‘emselves invisible, or fly, or could make a car explode with just a thought - or could read your thoughts – who could tell? So they had to be careful-like. They got some of the junior guys, and told ‘em that there was a new initiation rite for the gang. They had to go to a bar, and cause trouble. Pick on folk. Spill their drinks. Wind folk up and get them to lash out – but then fade away. Even apologise. But when they responded, they got in their face for a bit, then backed down. It was weird, but the newbies did it – and they didn’t know why. Hell, I didn’t know why, not at first. But then Angler explained it to me. Whenever one of the newbies got in someone’s face, either Whisper or Galen were out there too, hunched down in a car, watching. Watching in that weird way, that let ‘em see magic. If they ever came across someone that would kick off, and used magic – they could taste it and see if it was the right one. And if the initiate didn’t push it too far, he shouldn’t get shot or turned into a toad. At least, not too much…
It took months, working through the district, checking out different bars, on different nights of the week. Some bars were more trouble than others, and some tried to bar us. At least that gave something for Vern to focus his rage on.
But then, about two weeks ago, we’d almost run out of places to check, and someone said how about Dantes? We hadn’t checked it because it was one of our spots – Wednesday nights, we tended to hang there as they had some DJs with top tunes and they played the hardest house music you ever did hear. But we’d checked just about everywhere else out, so one of the kids was sent out to bump people, and had run afoul of the bouncers. They got some serious muscle on this place - huge trolls, huge orks, cops, all kinds. Kid ran into trouble right early and got pitched outta the club, and had to work the line. Had to keep on his toes too, as the bouncer kept telling him to frak off. Some of the customers were tough dudes too – lots of factory workers and steel mill boys who gave him a good thump for his troubles. But late one night, some dude turned up – a really skinny, slender, massively tall black elf. Easily 8 foot tool, but about 40 pounds top. Kid bumped him and sent him reeling into the wall, and got shouted at by the troll on the door. Next thing you know, the troll has had enough and has popped an extending spear out from under his coat and is after the kid, looking to run him through. Before he can get there though, the black dude waves his hands around a bit, and the kid suddenly pulls his pants and keks down to his ankles, puts his thumb in his mouth, and starts to walk in circles, then heads for the car park. Whisper checked and got way excited – they’d found the dude! It was a match.
Turns out this black guy goes by the handle “Daq”, and he was a full-on Shadowrunner. We started to listen in, and the gang pretty much moved into Dantes, turning up every night and camped out there, finding out what the deal was. It’s a big old club, some old warehouse of some sort. Barman got a thousand watt smile, but he moves smooth – there’s some history there for sure. Place runs 24/7, nice family place in the day, banging club at night.
Course, we ran into problems straight away… like I said, Wednesday nights, we had that place. Loads of other customers, but everyone knew that the Wirez were in, and for Wednesday that was our turf. We never caused no real trouble there, the bouncers never gave us too hard a time. We had our knives and small stuff, but the big stuff was left outside. It was an understanding like… But when we started hanging out there all the time, we ran into the other gangs. Monday nights the Black Dolls did like us – they came with most of their boys, and listened to the Goth stuff the club played. Tuesday nights, the Red Drakes were there for Metal night. Sunday night had the Lotus Eaters come and stink the place out with the sa-ke for Neuvo-Jap fusion night – and let me tell ya, that stuff just don’t even qualify as music, it’s just noise. But each of them didn’t appreciate us turning up in what they saw was their turf, and things got kind stressed.
Place beefed up security, and for the last week, they’ve had pretty much all the door men on, every night. Normally there’s just one of ‘em – but this pot of trouble was on the boil, and I think they knew that. So as well as the big troll, there was the aussie ork, the little sour faced jap guy and the part-time cop, and some other huge Japanese guy as well. There was at least 3, and as many as all 5 of ‘em there, depending on the night.
So, Friday night – earlier tonight - we rock up. The troll and the ork are on the door, the Jap and the cop are working the inside. It’s Friday night, so the Wolverines are in, camping out in their corner listening to the Synth Rock the DJs are pumping out. We come in and take over the VIP area at the other corner. There’s looks. There’s the odd brush past. There’s a few spilled drinks and some name calling. The bouncers start keeping us back, in our corners – trying to keep us split up like schoolkids.
About seven, in comes Daq, along with some other dudes – a squat hench-looking dwarf, some Japanese midget and some injun fella with a greasy ponytail. They go get drinks, have a chat with the barkeep, then go into the backroom. Something goes on in there, you see all kinda serious folk wandering in and out. We figure they’re getting jobs or arranging deals in there. But when they go in, they normally go out, disappear for a few hours, maybe a day tops – then they come back. To hand stuff over and get paid? To pass on stolen gear? Who knows – but we sorta recognise it, ‘cos it’s what we do too.
So, game on. Harry nearly ruins it. He’s had a few too many – just like normal – and goes to pick on the Wolverines. Little Jap guy tells him to drop it and come back to the rest of us. He’s had too many of course, and won’t back down – and the frakking little snake just pulls out a blade and lops his arm off. Dance floor clears, the lights come up, and Vern looks like he’s about to have a meltdown. Whisper and Galen tell him it’s fine though – it might work better. They get a few of us to take our colours off, during the confusion – and to stay in the bar. All night if need be. And to make sure our fragging phones are on! The rest of the gang get Harry and his arm – it’s been put in a bag of ice now – and head out, leaving the bar to the Wolverines. And they ride off, leaving the bar to relax a bit and get back to normal.
We nursed our drinks of course – made ‘em last. Ain’t doing what Harry did. If the bouncers don’t do for us, then Vern would. And we wait. And that brings us to now… here I am, a little bit merry, but holding my own, and watching our beers whilst Frank goes and drains the snake. It feels odd to be sitting here without our colours on – nothing at all. But they were clear on that – we gotta blend in. I check my watch – it’s about 1:30am, and some people are starting to leave, the club beginning to get down to just the serious party people. And my phone goes.
I pop the speaker in my ear, and hit the accept key, and get a feed from Micky Red-dot. I hear him getting all excited – the dudes are back in the car park, just pulled in with their van. He pokes the phone over the parapet – he’s up on the roof of the houses opposite the club, sheltering from view. He’s watching the picture from the camera and sending me the feed too.
Frank sits down next to me, then sees the phone is live and leans in to watch. Under the table I see him pull out his longblade from the boot sheath and slide it up his sleeve to keep it handy. We both watch.
Yep, there’s the four of them, coming up on the front now. Stopping to talk to the bouncer. Then the screen lurches, as we see Micky stand up and aim his shotgun. The phone’s stuck to the roof with something – tape maybe? I Idunno. But we can hear the sharp retort as Micky fires off a burst from his Mossberg. He loves that gun, has done all kinds of stuff to it – including some monster laser sight. We can see the red dot on the centre of this Daq fella’s chest, and then he spins like a rag doll, as he cops for a burst to the chest.
Something must have warned him though, maybe he saw the movement, as it’s not a full-on hit. He was already starting to move, twisting just a little out the way, but enough to avoid it cutting him in half. Micky swears, and pulls the trigger again, but his next shot is not so clean, and the guy is still rolling, trying to dodge out of the way. The other dudes explode into action too – the troll pulls out some big-ass pistol and then double taps, and a second later we see Micky’s headless corpse dropping down over the edge of the building in front of the camera. The hench dwarf is grabbing for Daq, trying to drag him into the club, but gets half knocked out of the way by the ork bouncer barging past him. The midget guy just screams and runs towards the van, but the injun fella pulls out a sub machine gun from under his coat and turns to face the houses.
By now the other three guys are all standing up, pointing their Uzi’s down at the group. You can seem ‘em firing, trying to keep the rounds on target, and at least two of ‘em hit, trashing the guys legs. The injun fires, not even really looking, but you can see rounds cracking up in return. Most of ‘em go wide, but at least a couple hit. I don’t know what he was packing, but them rounds went straight through their leathers, their bodies too, like it was butter. Couple of ‘em drop, but they’re still throwing rounds downrange, making ‘em all flinch. Another 3 seconds after that, they’re bundling in through the doorway. That’s when it gets really freaky. Next thing I can see, the front of the buildings just gets ripped apart. There’s like six huge creatures, made of concrete and rock and paving slabs, just tearing the front of the buildings off. The guys are crouched down behind the parapets, and these things grab ‘em and just tear ‘em apart, limb from limb. Throwing the bits down into the street below. Brutal.
The inner doors of the club burst open, and me and Frank turn to look like everyone else. The dwarf carefully puts down Daq’s body, and then pulls out a massive hand gun and goes running back out. We can see past him that the ork bouncer has grabbed a huge machine gun from the cloakroom, and he’s running out too. The injun fella does a U turn too, and he heads back out with the rest. You can’t see the street, cos the door is full of troll – but he’s now turning to head out.
Frank gets up next to me, and breaks into a run, letting the blade slip from his sleeve into his hand. He’s closing on the body, so I push up from my chair too. I can’t believe the guys were so dumb as to leave him in here unguarded. Maybe they figure it’s a safe place, or the other bouncers will take care of him. We get there first, though.
Frank just slides the knife in through the eye socket, and gives it a twist. The body flexes and spasms once, and then goes limp.
Frank’s head slides off the top of his body, and lands with a dull squelch at my feet, and the little Jap guy flicks his sword, sending a spray of blood into the carpet. I didn’t even see him, let alone see him move. I think about going for my cosh – but he’s got a metre long sword in his hands, and he looks like he just wants an excuse to use it. I raise my hands in front of me, slow and careful, then I feel my collar get grabbed by Greg, the part time cop. I relax – at this point there’s no use fighting, the job is done, now it’s time to try and get outta here with my hide. My eye is drawn to the phone still held in my left hand. The screen is going berserk now. There’s some massive 40 foot tall earthen colossus striding around in the street, ripping cars in half and destroying buildings. There’s a weird magic-looking vortex swirling with the midget tottering on the edge, screaming in fear. There’s a frakking huge robot running around the street pointing a machine gun at bits of gangers.
The doors burst open again, the rest of Daq’s team come in, faces white and making like they’ve seen a ghost. The injun still has his submachine gun in hand, the barrel smoking, and he just runs towards the back room, like he’s a wide receiver going for the touchdown. You can feel the ground shaking now, as something major kicks off outside, and for the second time tonight, the music stops and the house lights come on. Then it all goes quiet – all at once. They’ve not been blown up or anything… they’ve just gone. That scares the drek out of me more… if they can go like that, that means they can come back, just as easily, right? Right.
Magic man, it’s drekky stuff.
The cop has my hands behind my back now and set of plastic cuffs on me, and is pushing me into a chair, whilst the rest of Daq’s team come towards me with weapons drawn. I let the shoulders slump, and go to work on looking harmless, and get ready to spin some bullshit. Maybe, just maybe, I can get outta this one if I talk fast enough and quick enough and make nice.
“Hey peace man! It’s all over. I ain’t no threat to you. How about you let me go eh fellas?”

Orange lego was general club patrons, purple was the Neon Wirez, Red was the Wolverines, Pink was the bar staff and the white/blue were the bouncers. The back room (The puppets room) was top right of the picture. Tiny the Troll, and Jeff the Aussie brawler were on the door (top left), Musashi the phys-adept with the weapon focus katana and Greg the part time cop were in the centre of the dance floor.