[GR]Downtime (7/1/24)

[Consumer]

Therapy... Maybe?
Pertinax

Pertinax makes his way down to level thirteen, taking a bit of a convoluted route, as is his nature. Eventually a few hours later, Pertinax finds himself on the lower level. A few things seem to have changed since he was last here around two months ago. Construction seems to be underway in various parts of the level, and the whole place seems a little brighter, likely due to hundreds of burnt out lumens finally being replaced. This still doesn't equal to the general brightness of the upper levels, and the smog seems to tone it down even more.

Bryke finds Croc's all but dead as the last of the late night partiers have finally slinked away to whatever hovels they call home. Pertinax as usual finds the normal morning bartender manning the main bar, currently stocking one of the beer coolers. Pertinax's arrival is eventually noticed, and his request for a pot of tea receives a nod. A few minutes later a small teapot and a cup are placed in front of the Tarlok. "Why are you here?" Is uttered by the scarred bartender.

Debtor
Bryke

Bryke heads back to the ship and gathers his things, before making the long trip down to level thirteen, and the Blackstone Tower. It takes the Promethean a few hours to reach his destination, and he too notices the changes being effected in the lower level. At the door of the tower, Bryke puts in the code that he was given to access the lobby, which opens the door into the den like area decorated in what some folks would call seventies era basement dweller. A few of the mages are sitting on the ratty old couches yelling at the archaic video screen, some manner of sporting event playing. None of them seem to immediately notice Bryke, but he does see Bel sitting next to Leary drinking beer.

A man enters a body building competition...
Glitch

Glitch makes his way from Holt's down to level four, and eventually to Sigma's. The building looks the same as it did since the last time he was there. Inside is also just as empty as usual, save the weird cyber creation drones moving about. Floating skulls, dusting shelves with small built in vacuums and grotesque cherub creations carrying product to put on the shelves. From the back of the building, Glitch hears Sigma speak. "Be right there."

A colorful mind.
Yates

No Post

Dreams of a dragon
Trorrie

Trorrie not having anywhere specific to be heads back to the ship. There the Dracanoid tries valiantly to repair the environment suit, but finds it is beyond her skills really. Leaving her alone to her own devices for the moment.

Renaissance man... octopi...
Mungo

Nothing noted, but you just came back so that is understandable.

Shadow ops.
Az Rael

No post

[Glitch]

Perception: 1d100: [21] = 21 /45%
JiC: 1d100: [59] = 59 / 1d20: [12] = 12

Conditions and ProgramsPassive (Always On) Conditions: Modulating Voice Synthesizer (Glitch maintains a human-like voice that sounds like it has a little static from a radio in it) | Sensory Antenna (10 ft) | Clock Calendar | Internal Juke Box [Glitch adjusts his profile to play internally |

Opaque

| All tech-based sensory equipment is -10% to track him

Active (Toggled ON) Conditions [Cycles every 120 seconds (2 minutes) as a main process while not actively engaging]: Explosives Detector (12ft radius) | Bug Detector (60ft radius) | External Video and Audio Surveillance (EVAS) | Radar Detector (80%) | Radiation Detector (60ft radius; identifies all forms of radiation and their level of harm to organic/synthetic matter) | Forcefield:110/110 MDC | Motion Detector and Warning System | Micro Hover-Jets

Active Programs [As of beginning downtime]: Military Espionage: Undercover | Technical Resources | Technical: Computers | Military Communications: Advanced

Skills:
Find Contraband: 1d100: [31] = 31 /70% [Does Sigma have an Out-of-Phase Field]
Salvage: 1d100: [11] = 11 /90% [Does Sigma have a chassis]

Post:

When Glitch arrives at Sigma's, the robot waits patiently for the mechanical man to make his way to the front. When Sigma greets Glitch, Glitch cycles through it's log then addresses Sigma. "Your last two projects for me have proven efficient and tested in variable conditions. I have a few other projects I would like you to undertake." Glitch begins.

"First, I am seeking an additional functional chassis capable of storing holding my intelligence. This would ideally be a fully capable combat model, I understand these are not common. It does not need to be humanoid. If you do not have such a chassis, would you know where to acquire them?" Glitch asks. Then after that, Glitch begins his second request.

"Second, I am seeking to have a Out-of-Phase Field integrated into this chassis in the same way you integrated the force field. It would be an acceptable result if both could not function at the same time. The projector should be integrated into the main chassis, and if I must sacrifice compartment space I am prepared to do that as well." Glitch finishes his second request. "I have other projects as well, but these two are priorities. I also have a skill package design to discuss, and am looking to acquire additional commercial skill packages."

[Consumer]

A Man Enters a Body Building Competition...
Glitch

Sigma makes his way from one of his back rooms, his body an unusual shape as usual. He bypasses the counter to stand near Glitch, a swarm of his drones flitting about the two in a orbit. "Greetings Glitch, I am glad to see you once more." Sigma says followed by a burst of binaric static.

"Your last two projects for me have proven efficient and tested in variable conditions. I have a few other projects I would like you to undertake."

"I am glad they worked well for you. What else can we do for you? Sigma says. Whether he actually is pleased or not, is unreadable in his mostly augmetic face. Though it is likely that Glitch doesn't care either way.

"First, I am seeking an additional functional chassis capable of storing holding my intelligence. This would ideally be a fully capable combat model, I understand these are not common. It does not need to be humanoid. If you do not have such a chassis, would you know where to acquire them?"

Sigma seems to ponder the question. "I likely have all the parts necessary to build a variety of chassis, what did you have in

Please feel free to build one out of the rules for building robot in SB1, and we can work from there.

?" Sigma says, as he brushes a skull drone out of his field of view.

"Second, I am seeking to have a Out-of-Phase Field integrated into this chassis in the same way you integrated the force field. It would be an acceptable result if both could not function at the same time. The projector should be integrated into the main chassis, and if I must sacrifice compartment space I am prepared to do that as well."

Sigma nods. "I don't have one in stock, but could very easily order one. As for integration, you are not wrong, you would either use the force field or the Out of Phase Field. I dread to guess what would happen if you activated both at the same time. As for installation in you chassis, I would need to take a look, my integration of the force field was topical at best... the Promethean tech is more complicated, and requires more robust connections to merge the technologies. Not that I am incapable, just noting it is all. What I am really saying, we would have to see if you need to sacrifice other features for it." Sigma says.

"I have other projects as well, but these two are priorities. I also have a skill package design to discuss, and am looking to acquire additional commercial skill packages."

"More skill packages, that should be easy enough, I have many available." Sigma answers.

What are your Intentions?

[Yates]

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [21] = 21 | 21%
JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 | d%: [45] = 45
-----------------------------------

Character Sheet
PPE: 99/99
ISP: 104/104
HP: 31/31
SDC: 110/110
Worn:

• NE-BA-26 Special Body Armor
  
  M.D.C. by Location:

  • Helmet: 50
  • Arms: 40 each
  • Legs: 50 each
  • Main Body: 90

  
  Weight: 21 lbs. for human equivalent, 35 lbs. for giant-sized.
  Modifiers: -10% to physical skills
  Features:

  • All standard NE environmental armor features (p.35-36, DB8)
  • HUD Visor Allows 6 different screens to be viewed without impairing vision.
  • Deluxe Weapons Package
    • Twin Retractable Energy Blade (Right Forearm)
      • Damage: 4D6 M.D.
    • Plasma Encased Garrote Strangle Cord (Left Wrist)
      • Damage: 5D6 M.D.C. per melee
    • Particle Beam Blaster
      • Range: 2,000'
      • Damage: 1D4x10 M.D.
      • Payload: 10 Shot (E-Clip)
    • NE-28R Micro-Missile Wrist Launcher
      • Range: 1 mile
      • Damage: 6D6 M.D.
      • Payload: 2 missiles
  • Robotic Exoskeleton
    • Robotic P.S. of 25, +4 P.P., +20 Speed, +10' to leaps, +10% to Climbing, Reduce Fatigue by 75%
    • Restrained Punch: 6D6, Punch/Kick: 1D4 M.D., Power Punch/Jump Kick: 2D4 M.D.
  • Integrated Sensor Pod
    • 360° scanning capability
    • +3 Initiative, +2 to Parry, +2 to Dodge, +5 to Roll w/, allows user to dodge all attack, even those from behind and/or surprise
  • Built-In N-F40A Force Field
    • M.D.C.: 110
    • Voice Activated
  • Laser Distancer & Targeting
    • +1 to Strike with Hand Held Ranged Weapons
    • Range 2,000'
  • Optics Enhancements
    • Passive Night Vision: 3,000'
    • Telescopic Vision (up to 20x Magnification): 1 mile
    • Macro-Lens (6x Magnification)
    • Thermo-Imager: 2,000'
    • Light Polarization
  • Mini-Radar/Sonar System
    • Can track up to 12 targets
    • Range: 2 miles
  • Advanced Communication Package
    • Includes: Basic receiver/transmitter, secure cryptological encoding, burst transmission capability, and if the Suit has the HUD Enhancement is capable of sending and receiving text communications
    • Range: 30 miles
  • Psionic Electromagnetic Dampers
    • +2 to Save vs all Psionic Attacks and Possession Attempts, +1 to Save vs Magic Illusion and Mind Control

  
  Book Reference: p.37-39, DB8
  Main: 90/90 MDC. FF: 110/110 MDC. PB Blaster: 10/10 shots in e-clip. Micro-missiles: 2/2 shots. Note: Elaborate oversized dress worn atop EBA.
• Utility Belt
  Attachment points can be utilized to carry 1 each of the following item types: sidearm, magazine, E-clip, grenade, canteen, food ration pack, minor items or individual tools.
  • Attachment: GR-45HP "Jack Hammer" Heavy Pistol
  • Attachment: 2 GR-45HP Magazines
  • Attachment: Flashlight
  • Attachment: Survival Knife

---

Saving Throw Bonuses
Coma/Death: +20%
Magic (varies): +5
Lethal Poison (14+): +5
Non-Lethal Poison (16+): +5
Insanity (12+):
Psionics (varies):
Horror Factor (varies): +3

Mungo looks around at the rogues. "Oh my! Looks like some new faces have joined our merry little troupe, how delightfully refreshing! To all the new faces Hiya! I'm Mungo. I am absolutely enchanted to meet you!"

Yates' beak opens in excitement. "Enchanté," he replies in excitement, clearly pleased at Mungo's positivity and word choices. The Timneh extends an effeminate hand and performs an overly elaborate courtly bow. "Yates. Fabulous to meet you, darling."

If it is possible, Yates is even more astonished at being handed well over a million credits of payment for the job. Thank you for the many blessings you bestow upon me Lady Sadal. I can only hope this humble servant brightens your Tapestry with his thread. However, seeing nobody else seems to blink at being handed such life-changing money, he decides to likewise play it 'cool'. And does not say anything in particular about it.

Once back in the privacy of their ship, he allows himself moments of giddiness where his spastic energy seems to fully consume his body. When the crew begins to split up to go do their own thing, Yates asks, "Shore leave? When do we need to be back aboard?" And will acknowledge when the clarifying time is declared.

Feeling as though the new funds are burning a hole in his pocket, he siphons off a cred-stick with only 200k of his funds, leaving the remainder in his secure room and heads to the group armory where he grabs the Naruni heavy FF, donning it beneath his clothes and heads out wearing ostentatiously bright colored clothing and his slug thrower holstered at his hip.

Not necessarily being aware of the stupidity of his actions, he heads down to Level 10 with intentions on finding out how bad the damage was from the demon spawn on Level 9. Should there be security forces blocking the entryways into the lower level, Yates will inquire about what happened. And whether or not he gets any useful information, he will go looking for the nearest drinking establishment he can stumble upon in Level 10. He has money and is seemingly eager to spend it.

[Glitch]

Perception: 1d100: [40] = 40 /45%
JiC: 1d100: [32] = 32 / 1d20: [12] = 12

Conditions and ProgramsPassive (Always On) Conditions: Modulating Voice Synthesizer (Glitch maintains a human-like voice that sounds like it has a little static from a radio in it) | Sensory Antenna (10 ft) | Clock Calendar | Internal Juke Box [Glitch adjusts his profile to play internally |

Opaque

| All tech-based sensory equipment is -10% to track him

Active (Toggled ON) Conditions [Cycles every 120 seconds (2 minutes) as a main process while not actively engaging]: Explosives Detector (12ft radius) | Bug Detector (60ft radius) | External Video and Audio Surveillance (EVAS) | Radar Detector (80%) | Radiation Detector (60ft radius; identifies all forms of radiation and their level of harm to organic/synthetic matter) | Forcefield:110/110 MDC | Motion Detector and Warning System | Micro Hover-Jets

Active Programs [As of beginning downtime]: Military Espionage: Undercover | Technical Resources | Technical: Computers | Military Communications: Advanced

Skills:


Post:

"I likely have all the parts necessary to build a variety of chassis, what did you have in ?"

Glitch looks around at the parts available. Observation: He can likely provide multiple chassis the new prospect is cost. Glitch identifies. "Seeing the available parts and recognizing your own skill. I am considering a more advanced combat model. Under normal circumstances, the construction of these chassis are expensive, numbering in the millions. What would your cost be for such

Form 1: Basic Humanoid, similar model to his current form in capabilities.

Form 2: Hovercycle body based on the NE-HC-120 Shadow Combat Hovercycle.

Player to GM note: I will do more specific math on this idea and kick you a PM

that could transition between two different forms on command. And is there a possibility of providing a service to pay for them or is it credits only?" Glitch asks, recognizing he may be creating a much taller order than Sigma expects.

"I don't have one in stock, but could very easily order one. As for integration, you are not wrong, you would either use the force field or the Out of Phase Field. I dread to guess what would happen if you activated both at the same time. As for installation in you chassis, I would need to take a look, my integration of the force field was topical at best... the Promethean tech is more complicated, and requires more robust connections to merge the technologies. Not that I am incapable, just noting it is all. What I am really saying, we would have to see if you need to sacrifice other features for it."

Glitch nods. "That would be acceptable. I request you to order one. As for what may need to be sacrificed. I have two large concealed compartments on this chassis's leg slots. Integrating it into one of those compartments and limiting my storage capacity would be the most ideal course. How long will it take for the ordered component to arrive? " Glitch asks. "In addition to field generator, would you be capable of installing a language translator with preprogrammed languages installed? These two installations would be the primary focus of this visit as I do not expect the chassis available immediately and need to acquire additional credits before committing to it." Glitch explains. "Though I will draft a more detailed outline for the chassis should you consider yourself willing to undertake such an assignment." Glitch finishes

"More skill packages, that should be easy enough, I have many available."

Glitch considers for a moment his own roster of packages and what he would need. "I would seek to acquire a Technical: Lore skill package. I would also seek a modified Medical, Advanced skill package. However, the acquisition of new skill packages is not as high a priority as the installation of the field generator and language translator. The chassis construction being the next priority." Glitch states, laying out his plans.

[Trorrie]

Perception: 1d100: [19] = 19 /29%
JIC: 1d20: [13] = 13 / 1d100: [37] = 37

Conditions: Mind Block Auto-Defense. Sixth Sense
Worn: Psionic Crystal Armor, sunglasses, and Phase sword, that's it.

"Why is the calamari talking...?" She thinks out loud to herself in a soft voice on seeing Mungo for the first time. She smiles to Mungo whether heard or not. "Hi."

The Draconid is also caught when given a credit stick with over million credits indicated to be on it and pockets it like no one should have seen it. HA. Mine now, and I'm not sharing. "More for my hoard."

Aboard the Rogue, Trorrie resigns to the fact her weather suit will never look as good as it once did with a frosted release of breath before putting it away. She reads for a short while until boredom claims her attention. In her initial flash of boredom, she uses

3 ISP for a small object up to 8 minutes.

to manipulate a small cup in the air letting it rise and fall in the air around the room until the time for its use elapses and the cup falls from wherever it was hovering. The whole duration she is unapologetic and continues as she is doing regardless if she's told to stop or not, if anything, if the complaint is rude enough in her head, the cup may bob through the air closer to them then they may want for a short while.

Shortly afterwards, she siphons at most 180K credits to a credit stick and leaves the rest on the original stick hidden among her things and heads out for the fun of being on Center in nice jeans and collared shirt. She looks for a bar for good music, local gossip, some pool, and Bourbon.

Trust: 1d100: [71] = 71 /45%

[Consumer]

A colorful mind.
Yates

Yates makes his way down to level ten, not a quick trip to say the least, as most of the quick trams or lifts cut off after level six. Ironically this does grant Yates the answers to questions he has mental concocted. It appears that level eight through ten are seeing some serious rebuilding, not that the scars of the demon invasion several months prior aren't evident, just seems that the bureaucracy has finally gotten around to doing the work down here. Yates could only begin to imagine how much worse it is lower.

After a hour and a half or so of travel, Yates finds himself on level ten, and standing in front of his favorite pub. The front of the building shows a few impact marks, but seems to have weathered the attack well enough. Inside the crowd is light, as it is still rather early. That being said, Yates sees someone sitting at the bar that he didn't expect. Lance McMasters, the ancient looking gunslinger sits at the bar seemingly nursing a cup of coffee. When Yates gets close enough. "Morning kid, didn't expect to ever see you down this low again." Lance says, as he gestures to the stool next to himself.

What are your Intentions?

Dreams of a dragon
Trorrie

Trorrie makes her way back down to level two, a lot of the best bars are located in Spacertown, so that's where she goes. Due to the time of the day, it's not very busy in the first bar she enters, only a few early drinkers, or folk just grabbing breakfast. At the bar, Trorrie is greeted and has her order taken, if the waitress has an issue with such early morning drinking, she doesn't show it. Drink in hand, Trorrie begins to make her rounds of the place. They do have pool tables, and there are some folk, but they don't really appear all that interesting.

What are your Intentions?

[Bryke]

Perception: 54% +2% 1d100: [43] = 43 1d100:
JiC d20/d100: 1d20: 1d20: [14] = 14 / 1d100: [1] = 1 1d100:

Conditions:
Optimistic

Status:
MindBlock: AutoDefense
Sense Dimensional Anomalies: Can automatically detect rifts, dimensional envelopes and pockets, fourth-dimensional and Two-dimensional beings, astral travelers and the invisible energy essence of alien intelligences and entities. Range: One mile (1.6) or line of sight, whichever is less.
Doesn't breathe air and is immune to radiation and normal heat, fire, cold, gases and disease. Can see in total darkness and has eagle-like normal vision.
Sixth Sense
HF 10




At The Tower:
"Well met Bel, Leary." As the humans used to say. "Good to see you both alive and well. This One is here to satisfy some debt if possible, and purchase three spells for future machinations-" Hope they have what is needed, "Talisman, Teleport: Superior, Teleport: Lesser, Golem? Also might you know where This One could acquire a specific familiar?"

Curious, what will they have me do that they cant do themselves OR that they don't want to do.. do I wait for them to contact me about these favors?

Bryke waits for the response.


Away from The Tower:
The Promethean powers on his HPC, activating a dynamic short list of things that pops up virtually in front of him, the reflected light produces a mirrored version projected onto the front of the little giants armored stomach. He reads in silence:


1. Establish a working business or line of gear with the name "Qrush" as moniker for creations.
2. Get the spell Talisman, Teleport: Lesser and Teleport: Superior, Golem
3. Add the spell, Invisibility: Superior to cloak (will activate whenever This One puts the hood up, add noise cancellors)
4. Place a permanent D-Envelope on both ships, and on his cloak. Let the team know of its existence... see who can activate or see it.
5. Get a reinforced MD-Cloak.
6. Purchase a bracer or some other focus for Teleportation Spells. OOC: I see teleportation spells as defensive, thus bracers... the only other thing I liken it to would be a lens of some sort.. so a magnifying glass... or telescopic thing added or provided by his Multi-Tool)
7. Place Time Hole on something and use as a Maker-Space.
8. Create a mummy TW style.
9. Take care of some debts.
10. Find a Techno Eagle or lizard as a familiar.
11. Purchase items for the familiar, (phase blaster (give it the PH-400 Blaster), anti-gravity pack, and a spacer suit... OOC: Im thinking that absorbing these will change the colors of this familiar to matte-black with fire orange tiger stripes)
12. Develop line of TW Grenades (warped space, etc.)
13. Get a sign placed into Qlu'Bar, (Qrush) that will be focus for Magic Warrior. Thinking a clasp of wood maybe... transmuted by ironwood
14. Make 2 Kharambits that are also gunblades. OOC: Will use his dual Phase Beamers and modify them to be gunblades.
15. Purchase a compass, or place one into second multi-tool. OOC: This is for the navigation space magic. Eventually wanting this thing to turn into his "staff" that is pseudo-living is what I am going for. By living I just mean it articulates, transforms. The focus items that are needed for spell casting can be produced by this item... It will function like a TW "wand" in my mind. When a proper focus is known and needed the "staff/wand" articulates into something proper, that the spell caster, user, Bryke thinks of as a focus. Will put this into the tinkering thread as it is a wip.
16. Tinkering: make a host of miniature robots.
17. Program an a.i. assistant on this HPC.
18. Make Heavy TW weapon that shoots Fire Globes
18. Order travel bags for Heavy Weapons.
19. Make a TW "SkySurfer" OOC: Surfboard for Bryke to leyline "surf" on.

Once going over the list mentally, he looks around in thought, and steps out to attend to these errands in some logical order.

................................................................................
Tinkering Thread:
OOC: This is my first go at this, so this is my heads up on some of the ideas I am thinking of accomplishing during this "downtime"
1. Add Invisibility: Superior to MD cloak
2. Add permanent Dimensional: Envelope to both ships, and cloak
3. Make a focus device that attaches permanently to Qlu'Bar for "Warrior" spell
4. Make a couple TW "grenades", one each for warped space, and time stop (focus object, dense metal, sphere or cube with flat corners)
5. Turn phase beamers into kharambit style gunblades
6. Make a mini-robot
7. Make an Ai assistant (that is anti-Glitch, and anti-psionics if possible )
8. Make a TW "SkySurfer"
9. Turn one of his multitools into a "wizard staff/wand"

[Consumer]

Debtor
Bryke

"Well met Bel, Leary. Good to see you both alive and well. This One is here to satisfy some debt if possible, and purchase three spells for future machinations, Talisman, Teleport: Superior, Teleport: Lesser, Golem? Also might you know where This One could acquire a specific familiar?"

The two wizards look to the Promethean, Bel looks annoyed, while Leary is less readable. "So, you've come here to ask for more spells instead of asking what can you do to repay the multiple debts you owe. Interesting." Bel says, his voice is one of annoyance. Leary promptly gets up and leaves the room through the portal system. Leaving Bryke alone with Bel.

"I don't think there are any spells available to you until you work off the debt. We can start now if you'd like. I need a TW Lightblade for a client. All the parts should be in the auxiliary lab. Go make it and bring it back to me." Bel says.

This is my way of teaching you how to actually build a TW device. Please in your next post write out the construction info to build 1 TW Lightblade, and this will bring you one step closer to being free from The Blacktower's Debt. ~Consumer

What are your Intentions?

[Bryke]

Perception: 54% +2% 1d100: [24] = 24 1d100:
JiC d20/d100: 1d20: 1d20: [1] = 1 / 1d100: [22] = 22 1d100:

Conditions:
Optimistic

Status:
MindBlock: AutoDefense
Sense Dimensional Anomalies: Can automatically detect rifts, dimensional envelopes and pockets, fourth-dimensional and Two-dimensional beings, astral travelers and the invisible energy essence of alien intelligences and entities. Range: One mile (1.6) or line of sight, whichever is less.
Doesn't breathe air and is immune to radiation and normal heat, fire, cold, gases and disease. Can see in total darkness and has eagle-like normal vision.
Sixth Sense
HF 10

But that was the first thing asked? DId you not hear me... or did you choose- "Bel... Leary.. This One inquired about his debts first, and how he could repay them? Did you not hear This One ask -This One will say again, how can This One repay some or all of these debts? Does This one need to ask directly or will they call on This One whenever they need?" To think. You have taught This One so much in such a short time... some thing that can possibly not ever be repaid, yet you think This One would renege. Maybe should have given more separation in inquiries.

"Bel... mentor. This One has done all you have asked when you have asked it, never would he think to go back on his word with you first and foremost. By extension, all those that dwell with you freely in this Tower are extensions of you in that regard- in other words, This one will never not keep his word with you and those that dwell with you, whom he has also given his word to. This is the main reason This One does not say much, often, because he is responsible to keep all words given here.That said, absolutely This One will complete the task you have given." Aliens... do you not know me by now. Maybe This One does not know YOU. And that is the-

"This One will go now and make the Lightblade."

Bryke then sets out to create/tinker the item. On the way he will ask those that he has incurred debt with what he can do to repay them now if possible. His misunderstanding was thinking that they would call on him when the favor needed doing and he, because of this misunderstanding, thought that he would need to drop whatever he was doing in order to repay it since he gave his word- so long as he was not on mission or off-world.

[Consumer]

A Man Enters a Body Building Competition...
Glitch

"Seeing the available parts and recognizing your own skill. I am considering a more advanced combat model. Under normal circumstances, the construction of these chassis are expensive, numbering in the millions. What would your cost be for such

Form 1: Basic Humanoid, similar model to his current form in capabilities.

Form 2: Hovercycle body based on the NE-HC-120 Shadow Combat Hovercycle.

Player to GM note: I will do more specific math on this idea and kick you a PM

that could transition between two different forms on command. And is there a possibility of providing a service to pay for them or is it credits only?"

Sigma seems to be either thinking or observing, or possibly both. "That is a hard question to answer, at least assuredly. I do consider myself an expert in all things robotic, your current frame is rather unique, and I have not had the pleasure of going over it in great detail. A more generic answer to your query is, a few million credits, but certainly guaranteed to be top notch. As for payment... I don't currently have any tasks worth that quantity, so in this case I think it would have to be in credits." Sigma says in his scratchy speaker voice.

"That would be acceptable. I request you to order one. As for what may need to be sacrificed. I have two large concealed compartments on this chassis's leg slots. Integrating it into one of those compartments and limiting my storage capacity would be the most ideal course. How long will it take for the ordered component to arrive? "

Sigma nods. "A few hours at most, delivery drivers aren't as efficient as machines." Sigma answers.

"In addition to field generator, would you be capable of installing a language translator with preprogrammed languages installed? These two installations would be the primary focus of this visit as I do not expect the chassis available immediately and need to acquire additional credits before committing to it."

"A simple task, do you have one to install or is one needed to be purchased?' Sigma asks, nodding at the answer.

"Though I will draft a more detailed outline for the chassis should you consider yourself willing to undertake such an assignment."

"Of course, I so rarely get anything resembling a challenge these days, your general arrival in my life has made it much more interesting." Sigma says, a hint of pride in his vocalization.

"I would seek to acquire a Technical: Lore skill package. I would also seek a modified Medical, Advanced skill package. However, the acquisition of new skill packages is not as high a priority as the installation of the field generator and language translator. The chassis construction being the next priority."

Sigma nods. "I have both of those, and we can certainly figure out the details of the chassis as soon as it is convenient to you. To be frankly honest, It would be better if I had the parts on hand when you do manage to acquire the necessary funds." Sigma answers.

"Is there anything else you need?"Sigma finishes with.


What are your Intentions?

[Glitch]

Perception: 1d100: [62] = 62 /45%
JiC: 1d100: [89] = 89 / 1d20: [10] = 10

Conditions and ProgramsPassive (Always On) Conditions: Modulating Voice Synthesizer (Glitch maintains a human-like voice that sounds like it has a little static from a radio in it) | Sensory Antenna (10 ft) | Clock Calendar | Internal Juke Box [Glitch adjusts his profile to play internally |

Opaque

| All tech-based sensory equipment is -10% to track him

Active (Toggled ON) Conditions [Cycles every 120 seconds (2 minutes) as a main process while not actively engaging]: Explosives Detector (12ft radius) | Bug Detector (60ft radius) | External Video and Audio Surveillance (EVAS) | Radar Detector (80%) | Radiation Detector (60ft radius; identifies all forms of radiation and their level of harm to organic/synthetic matter) | Forcefield:110/110 MDC | Motion Detector and Warning System | Micro Hover-Jets

Active Programs [As of the Hunt]: Military Espionage: Undercover | Military Intelligence | Technical: Computers | Military Communications: Advanced

Skills:


Post:

"A few hours at most, delivery drivers aren't as efficient as machines." ... "A simple task, do you have one to install or is one needed to be purchased?'

Glitch nods in understanding. "Organics rarely are." Glitch answers simply. "Yes. I require one to be ordered as well." Glitch confirms.

"I have both of those, and we can certainly figure out the details of the chassis as soon as it is convenient to you. To be frankly honest, It would be better if I had the parts on hand when you do manage to acquire the necessary funds." "Is there anything else you need?"

"No. I will return in 6 hours to allot time for their inefficient delivery methods. For now, we will focus on the installation of these two additional components before the modified chassis." Glitch states and will then leave Sigma's location.

The robot is not idle and will seek out a means to garner additional credits. Observation: Those that live within the Manors are more likely to be willing to part with the credits I require than those living in the slums. I will start my search for contracts in that area. Glitch decides, recognizing the sheer amount of credits those who occupy the Manors possess to live their lives of decadence and leisure. With that, Glitch goes on a Hunt to maximize his time before returning to Sigma's. Glitch will cycle out one of his program packages to maximize his efficiency during his Hunt.

Glitch's Hunt

After leaving Sigma's, Glitch doesn't idle and instead seeks out means to augment his own financial means. The last few jobs barely paying enough for simple projects, with much larger projects beginning to form in the intelligence's logs, Glitch knew he needed one thing. Money. How he acquired it was of little consequence to him, and the overwhelming cultural society of Center meant even less to him. Glitch searches for various jobs that are considered beneath the Security Forces or not even brought to their attention.

During his search, Glitch runs across a plight of organic decadence and survival. One of the influential powers that be that live under Thraxus's domain that is the Manors has a problem. One of their servants recently stole something from them after witnessing something. If word gets out about what was witnessed, one of Thraxus's unbreakable rules of the Compact would be broken; embarrassing oneself and their neighbors due to unjustifiable acts done within one's home. Normally, what is, is within Center and especially within the Manors, but as Glitch discovers; their reputation means even more to them.

After a brief meeting with the security's head of the House, and being provided a description of his target, Glitch sets off. The intelligence has two goals; the capture, not death, of a human servant and the acquisition of a datastick stolen that details a number of villainous acts carried out by this Lord done to his own servants. Glitch finds himself amused greatly by the level of decadence that those in power over others seem to display. Entertainment in normal form becomes fleeting and instead they turn their lust for amusement into tortures on their own. Another reason, among many, Glitch truly detests organic life. They in power do not seek self-evolution, merely entertainment in the most immoral ways. Those trying to survive give up on themselves and their own, scraping and betraying their own family for another day of life and reprieve from their masters. It's a cruel circle that Glitch finds both amusing and disgraceful.

Glitch's search eventually leads him to Level 6 of Center, by far the furthest down he has had to go. The intelligence is operating off the publicly available maps and the information available about the lower levels. He knew his target and his target didn't know him; an advantage he often enjoyed. He expected to be hassled, a lone being traveling the lower levels must be ready to deal with threats and he expected no reinforcements. Truly, if he was not careful, he could find himself decommissioned. That would be realized as the intelligence rounded an alleyway and found himself met by three undesirables who must've thought they were dealing with a lost human in armor by the way they spoke.

They were ill-prepared for the Intelligence operating an assassin chassis, and in several swift moves, Glitch plunged his extended blade from his arm into the heart of one of the assailants. Then the intelligence unleashed a flamethrower that burned like melting plasma on the other two, swiftly ending the second one. Glitch's chassis was scratched, but the third one seemed to lose the will to fight after his allies fell. Not that it matter to Glitch as his extended steel climbing cord extended from his wrist and wrapped around the neck of the assailant in a swift motion. This undesirable would tell Glitch what he knew, and maybe the Intelligence would let him live. Showing the face of his target, the undesirable nodded in fear. Glitch moved closer towards his face, the normally opaque visor suddenly lit up with the face of a digitized demon as Glitch softly demanded the undesirable think hard about his answer.

Glitch soon had a lead, though before following it Glitch released the undesirable from his steel wire grip. Then, just as quickly, the particle beam on Glitch's forearm erupted painted the alleyway with what was left. The intelligence wasn't keen on leaving survivors and in such a place as the Lower Levels, such acts were common place enough. Looking around, Glitch noted that no passerby was looking or staying nearby for too long. Getting in other's business down here was a swift way to die. Glitch accepted this, and continued his hunt.

It wasn't long thereafter Glitch managed to track the renegade servant to a run down pub and inn. Inside, Glitch moved swiftly and silently, checking various rooms until he found his target. Sleeping in what they assumed was a temporary haven. The intelligence quickly surveyed the room and found the datastick tucked inside the bag at the head of the bed. Glitch then silently stood there, staring down at the bed and internally reviewing the contents of the datastick for his own interest in what could be so horrible, before securing it in his chest compartment. Truly it was horrible by organic standards; the Lord of this manor appeared to partake in many rituals that would be deemed unsanctioned in even the most free of brothels. Not that it matter to the Intelligence, none of it was information worth retaining but certainly would be embarrassing to one's reputation.

Glitch did not wake the renegade servant and instead watched until they ended up rising themselves. As if they sensed Glitch's presence standing mere feet from them, they were soon cowering in the corner as a digitized smile crossed the opaque face and Glitch made them an offer. They could walk, or be carried back to their Lord. Though the resident pleaded for freedom and exclaimed at the horror they would face when they returned, it fell on artificial ears that cared not for such a plight. Amusing it was to Glitch that this servant thought of him as another organic that may be sympathetic. A truth Glitch didn't care to argue or reveal. Instead, once it was realized they wouldn't come quietly, Glitch leaned in. A gaze of fear washed over the resident as their pupils dilated before Glitch, and then, with brief puff of gas, the resident was unconscious.

Glitch sheathed his chemical dispenser and made a note to refill his tranquilizer as he then carried the servant out on his back. The bartender gave the intelligence a quick look, though made no move to intervene. Glitch soon found himself traveling back towards the Manors. Passing the area where he dispatched the three undesirables. Glitch truly hoped that returning this servant slave and the datastick of incriminating information was worth it. He needed money, not wasted time.

Passing the security checkpoint, the Promethean Guards looked at the Intelligence for a moment and questioned him. Once it was revealed this was a servant of one of the manors and Glitch had been requested to locate it, he was let through without incident and soon found himself back at the Manor. Glitch hands over the unconscious servant and the datastick without a word. Ironically to the Intelligence, he finds himself being praised for his professionalism and efficiency by an organic. Something that never ceases to amuse the intelligence. Organics that praise professionalism while being the primary causes of pain and horror in others; no what they are praising is their problems being solved so that they can continue their downward spiral of decadence. Glitch feels no remorse for the servant who is likely to meet a horrible fate just as predicted, while also recognizing that one day, Glitch may well find himself hunting down the Lord of this Manor in the same ruthless way.

What is scarier than a ruthless hunter-killer that was built to be apathetic and follow orders without remorse? One that chooses whose orders to follow themselves based on their own needs. So long as they paid, no target would be free of fear. No organic, no sentient, no being was above being hunted for a price. Especially those making their homes on Center.

Upon the completion of his first Hunt, regardless of the amount of credits acquired, he will return to Sigma's for the installation of the Field Generator and Language Translator.

[Trorrie]

Perception: 1d100: [75] = 75 /29%
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 / 1d100: [12] = 12

Conditions: Mind Block Auto-Defense. Sixth Sense

Dreams of a dragon
Trorrie

Trorrie makes her way back down to level two, a lot of the best bars are located in Spacertown, so that's where she goes. Due to the time of the day, it's not very busy in the first bar she enters, only a few early drinkers, or folk just grabbing breakfast. At the bar, Trorrie is greeted and has her order taken, if the waitress has an issue with such early morning drinking, she doesn't show it. Drink in hand, Trorrie begins to make her rounds of the place. They do have pool tables, and there are some folk, but they don't really appear all that interesting.

"In my defence, my day started at later hour." She says, getting her bourbon and only just realizing how early it is and not late, but doesn't expect it to get her much if anything in any capacity. Her hopes of gab and pool are dashed by the lack of takers and sits to drink alone the singular glass.

"Actually... Is three poached eggs and a waffle or two in my future?" She asks nicely after a taste of the bourbon in hand.

It being early in her current line of wandering and pursuit of entertainment, she kept her hopes up for something to happen, even if it wasn't in this specific establishment. Leaving an empty glass upside down on the counter, she pipes up to the closest individual, "Anything going on in town at any time today I didn't notice before I got here?"

[Consumer]

Debtor
Bryke

"Bel... Leary.. This One inquired about his debts first, and how he could repay them? Did you not hear This One ask -This One will say again, how can This One repay some or all of these debts? Does This one need to ask directly or will they call on This One whenever they need?"

Bel sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, and turns the video screen off. "Bryke, yes you did ask first about debts, but then promptly asked for more services that likely would incur more debts, that is why I said what I said."

"Bel... mentor. This One has done all you have asked when you have asked it, never would he think to go back on his word with you first and foremost. By extension, all those that dwell with you freely in this Tower are extensions of you in that regard- in other words, This one will never not keep his word with you and those that dwell with you, whom he has also given his word to. This is the main reason This One does not say much, often, because he is responsible to keep all words given here.That said, absolutely This One will complete the task you have given. This One will go now and make the Lightblade."

Bel shakes his head. "You done all I've ask for thus far. I would think a being such as yourself would not enjoy being in the service of others. When you accrued as many favors to people in the tower as you have, I would have thought you would be on the ball asking what you can do, instead of waiting for one of us to randomly ask. That being said, I purchased your debt, so you only owe me now. So please go make the Lightblade, I need it for a customer." Bel says.

With that Bryke heads to the auxiliary workshop to get to work. Bryke finds just as he was told all the necessary parts and then some for building the Lightblade. Bryke also finds some notes to help him in his project. A few days pass as he works on the project. Bryke finds time to eat and rest as he works, until eventually Bryke is holding a finished Lightblade in his large hands.

What are your Intentions?

[Yates]

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [98] = 98 | 21%
JIC: 1d20: [9] = 9 | d%: [25] = 25
-----------------------------------

Character Sheet
PPE: 99/99
ISP: 104/104
HP: 31/31
SDC: 110/110
Worn:

• N-F40A Heavy Force Field
  
  M.D.C. by Location:

  • Force Field: 110

  
  Weight: 15 lbs.
  Modifiers: none
  Features:

  • 8 hour duration per E-clip

  
  Book Reference: p.122, DB2
• Utility Belt
  Attachment points can be utilized to carry 1 each of the following item types: sidearm, magazine, E-clip, grenade, canteen, food ration pack, minor items or individual tools.
  • Attachment: GR-45HP "Jack Hammer" Heavy Pistol
  • Attachment: 2 GR-45HP Magazines
  • Attachment: Flashlight
  • Attachment: Survival Knife

---

Saving Throw Bonuses
Coma/Death: +20%
Magic (varies): +5
Lethal Poison (14+): +5
Non-Lethal Poison (16+): +5
Insanity (12+):
Psionics (varies):
Horror Factor (varies): +3

When Yates gets close enough. "Morning kid, didn't expect to ever see you down this low again." Lance says, as he gestures to the stool next to himself.

"PewPew McMasters?!" Yates gasps in astonishment and is inclined to fling his arms wide to wrap the gunslinger in a warm embrace before he thinks better of it. Instead, the Timneh takes the cue and sets himself in the adjacent stool.

"Darling, so good to see you in one piece. That was some messy business." Yates gestures at the barkeep, calling for two more of whatever McMaster is drinking. The Timneh is unable to fully mask his disappointment at the hot cafe that is soon set before him.

"Is business slow?" Yates asks, nudging the mug of coffee as though it were some foreign object, "Just not used to the alcohol content of your beverages being below 5%." I wonder how many Hell's Riders were claimed by the demonic invasion? Maybe PewPew was forced to add to his lifelong loss-tally and it is starting to weigh on him. Hence the caffeine.

Should McMaster refuse to share, Yates will not pressure him. Knowing that the old gunslinger moves at his own pace and like a coiled rattlesnake, does not respond well to being prodded. So if nothing else, Yates will join McMaster in silence, sitting there, nursing a cup of coffee.

[Pertinax]

Perception (36%) 1d100: [81] = 81
JiC 1d20: [12] = 12 / 1d100: [29] = 29

"Why are you here?"

Pertinax pours himself a cup of tea and contemplates the question for a second. His 'gills' flare open and shut as he lets out a heavy but quiet sigh. "I ask myself that question all the time." He takes a gulp of tea. It is near boiling. But tarloks are raised on a scorching plant, and what would burn the average human is mildly unpleasant to a tarlok. And what is Pertinax if not mildly unpleasant? He stares at the cup, balanced between his king finer and thumb. "The last time I was here, I swore that I would never return. The neighborhood was in ruins, and security might have been..." Rather than admit anything about his involvement with the destruction of the Raggedy Man's lair, Pertinax finishes his cup. As he pours himself another from the teapot next to him, he continues "They have cleaned things up; I do not like it. It feels harder to be invisible. (Perhaps I am being paranoid.) But still, I came here."

And so begin's Pertinax's soliloquy. The bartenders and regulars at Croc's have heard parts of this rant before, though never all of it all together, least of all while sober. On being a dreadmaster: "It was unpleasant work. Moreso than the jobs I have done for Croc on occasion. Oh, the things that I did. I could tell you, but it would make your skin crawl. However, it was intellectually stimulating. Each mission, regardless of if it was breaking a prisoner of war or infilitrating an alien planet, was a puzzle to solve. And I was good at my work, you know..."

On his marriage: "We had an honorable bond, one that fit with the expectations of Tarlok society. It is not what you would call 'love'; tarloks do not value 'love'; and, in fact, as best as I can recollect, our last years were not pleasant ones. But we produced children, many many children..."

On his kids: "Tarlok males are not active parents. I was no different. But I like to think that I set a proud example for my sons. At least until I ended up here. I hope that their duty to the army is enough to wash the shame of having me for a father."

On hobbies: "I often hear people talk about 'down time', but I still struggle with it. Time between missions was used to further your civic commitment to the Tarlok Empire. You can join a neighborhood watch, or volunteer to clean and preserve Imperial Monuments, or even engage in intramural blood sports to maintain physical fitness. If alone, you should be reading the records heroes. You look at me like that is all dull work, but socializing in the officer's club was a great way to show respect for your leaders and improve your chances for a promotion. Plus the liquor they served..."

On his home planet: "It is a harsh land, but that is the best kind. It forges character..."

On his current team: "You have met them, so you understand. There is a distinct lack of professionalism, as if they want to know about my life when off mission. Why? What are their agendas? I suppose I understand Glitch. It is easy to understand a homicidal maniac. Then again, we are all kinds of homicidal maniacs."

On his dreadlor: "He seems ok. He found a life without me, a purpose that is not bound to the Tarlok Empire..." And: "I sometimes think that all my dreadlor have been found by others, and they are now free in new lives. What if my entire mission is a failure? Or worse, what if it is better that my mission fails?"]

On the most recent mission: "I cannot reveal the client, obviously, nor, for that matter, anything about the mission. But I will say that it was a success. At times it felt too easy. Maybe we are more competent than I think. No one was hurt, and I feel oddly satisfied about that..."

In all of his ramblings, Pertinax seems to circle back to a common theme, a deep sense of discontent. He cannot put his king finger on exactly what he feels. You are not depressed; no, you are very familiar with depression, and this is not the same. Nor is this your latent rage. It almost feels like restlessness. As he finishes his third pot of tea he flatly says, "I am unmoored in the Three Galaxies without a mission."

[Mungo]

JiC 1d20: [13] = 13 , 1d100: [11] = 11
Perception vs 34% 1d100: [94] = 94

At the meeting in Holt's office Mungo, greets Glitch and Bryke warmly. To Glitch, he slithers closer. "Ah, so efficiency has been improving? That is good news. Although, have you met me? I am many things, but I'm not terribly efficient" He shrugs as if to say, it is what it is.

He raises a surprised eyebrow at Brykes Mungo - Fungo comment. "My word I can honestly say I've never heard that one before. How delightfully original! Bravo."

"Enchanté, Yates. Fabulous to meet you, darling."

Mungo inhales deeply, apparently savouring the moment. "My goodness! What a breath of fresh air to be called Darling. Thank you, my good man. Thank you!" He takes Yatè's hand in several tentacles and shakes his hand vigorously. Gosh, I get called darling all the time while spending time around theatre peeps, but this must be the first time it's happened at work! How liberating! Mungo decides he likes this new guy immediately.

Once the meeting breaks up Mungo doesn't have anywhere in particular to be so he follows Pertinax to Crocs. Which seems to be the place where the Tarlok chooses to spend his time when he's not working. He reaches the bar in time to catch Pert's extended monologue. That bartender looks incredibly bored. How very on-brand for Pert not to even notice. He might as well be talking to a lamppost.

"I am unmoored in the Three Galaxies without a mission."

Mungo slides up onto the seat beside Pert. "Yes, yes you are Pertinax." Mungo gives the Tarlok a side eye to see how the guy is reacting to being followed and now having to actually talk to someone. Assuming the Tarlok isn't going to lash out Mungo continues. " And that, my friend makes you absolutely unique, one of a kind, a beautiful unique ice comet traversing deep space on its lonely path between the stars out in the dark. The rest of us are laser-focused on our purpose, our raison d’être. You on the other hand are doomed to..."

Mungo pauses for effect, as he does.

"Come on Man! Must you be such a wanker?! Pull your head out of your arse and either find a mission that suits you or move on from the Tarlok empire is the 'be all and end all of everything, but now I've borked it all up... boo... hoo...' funk you've been in since I met you."

Mungo looks at the bartender. "I'll have a pot of tea too please."

[Pertinax]

<Rolls carry>

"Yes, yes you are Pertinax."

At the sound of one of his teammates prying into his life off mission, the tarlok starts to make an irregular harsh clicking sound like a busted Geiger counter right before it sputters and dies shortly before its user also dies of acute radiation poisoning. He glares at Mungo, for daring to follow him to Croc's.

"And that, my friend makes you absolutely... all boo hoo' funk you've been in since I met you."

He uses that word, 'friend'. Do you think he actually considers you a 'friend'? Or is he being sarcastic, as he usually is? "I am not contemplating starting a coup, thank you very much," Pertinax snaps. "I was contemplating the fact that I do not know what to do with my 'downtime'. It is not something I accustomed to having. When I was a dreadmaster, I used that time to drill my dreadlor to make sure they were in optimal condition for redeployment, I spent time at the officer's club networking..." Pertinax drones on for a bit, not realizing that the Mungo is not paying attention until the octoman places his own order.

"I'll have a pot of tea too please."

"But fine, my 'friend'" Pertinax says. Do you really consider him a 'friend'? Or are you being acidic, as you usually are? He grabs his empty cup and moves it to a nearby empty table. He sits down and kicks the other chair back, inviting Mungo to sit down. "If you want to talk, we can discuss my ennui over a pot of tea."

[Consumer]

Therapy... Maybe?
Pertinax & Mungo

Pertinax pours his soul out, in a series of comments. All the while the scarred bartender listens, but doesn't respond, he just continues to tend the bar while the Tarlok ruminates on his past existence. Once Pertinax is through, Mungo who came in behind Pertinax speaks up.

"Yes, yes you are Pertinax." Mungo gives the Tarlok a side eye to see how the guy is reacting to being followed and now having to actually talk to someone. Assuming the Tarlok isn't going to lash out Mungo continues. " And that, my friend makes you absolutely unique, one of a kind, a beautiful unique ice comet traversing deep space on its lonely path between the stars out in the dark. The rest of us are laser-focused on our purpose, our raison d’être. You on the other hand are doomed to... Come on Man! Must you be such a wanker?! Pull your head out of your arse and either find a mission that suits you or move on from the Tarlok empire is the 'be all and end all of everything, but now I've borked it all up... boo... hoo...' funk you've been in since I met you."

"I am not contemplating starting a coup, thank you very much, I was contemplating the fact that I do not know what to do with my 'downtime'. It is not something I accustomed to having. When I was a dreadmaster, I used that time to drill my dreadlor to make sure they were in optimal condition for redeployment, I spent time at the officer's club networking... But fine, my 'friend' If you want to talk, we can discuss my ennui over a pot of tea."

"Only have the one pot, Pertinax is the only guy who comes in here asking for tea. I'll go ans refill it." The Scarred Bartender says as he takes the pot and goes in the back for a few minutes, returning with an extra cup and the now refilled tea pot.

"Pertinax it sounds like you need a hobby. Now I wouldn't say you should take up stamp collecting. You do need to find something that at the very least keeps your hands and mind busy when you have free time. For me it's reading, but I know that isn't for everyone." He says as he cleans another glass. "Folk like us are born into violence and usually die from violence... It's rare when we can find time to live a life free of it." He says with a sigh. "So in a crude way the Octoman is right." The scarred man says acknowledging Mungo's commentary.

What are your Intentions?

---

A man enters a body building competition...
Glitch

Glitch takes a minor job while waiting for Sigma to get the parts delivered, all in all relatively simple task (Awarded 19,000 Credits for the work). Glitch is considering looking for something else to do when Sigma messages him. A quick trip back to the Technologist's shop finds Glitch sitting in a chair likely designed to perform cyber surgery. "This should take me approximately three hours, depending on the complexity of the wiring harness. I will need to take you offline for portions of the work." Sigma says as he gets to work.

By Glitch's internal clock it's a hair earlier than three hours when Sigma finishes the install. "All done, systems integrated. Should take about an hour for the firmware to settle, but I doubt it will prove to be an issue." Sigma says. "The services come to six hundred and thirty thousand universal credits." Sigma says.

Integrated Out of Phase Field
M.D.C. by Location:

• Field Projector: 10

Weight: 5 lbs.
Modifiers: +1 to dodge (doesn't stack)
Features:

• Turns the wearer intangible
• Vulnerable to magic, psionics, & phase beamers
• Integrated Power Supply: 2 hours (or 40 use) total duration/24 hour period.

Book Reference: p.124-125, DB2

Integrated Language Translator

• Weight: .5 lbs.
• Features: Programmed with the nine common languages spoken in the Three Galaxies; 3 hr. recording capacity
  • Accuracy: 98% for one speaker, 78% for multiple speakers.
  • Programmed Languages. Trades 1-6, Dragonese/Elven, Kreeghor, Promethean.
  • Can accept disks for additional languages (up to 12 aditional)
• Book Reference: p.262, R:UE

What are your Intentions?

---

A colorful mind.
Yates

"PewPew McMasters?! Darling, so good to see you in one piece. That was some messy business. Is business slow?" Yates asks, nudging the mug of coffee as though it were some foreign object, "Just not used to the alcohol content of your beverages being below 5%.

McMasters chuckles in a deep baritone. "Yates, I don't think you've ever been up this early in the morning." The old killer says, with a smile. "Just drinking my morning coffee, the booze comes a little later. As for business... Not slow per say, just unreasonably peaceful the past few months. After those demons tore through here, Several of the more violent gangs saw their numbers eaten, literally... so now they're weakened to the point of impotence. So we're just kind of watching while doing our thing." McMasters says, before finishing his coffee.

"So enough about an old man, what about you Yates? What is new?" McMasters asks with genuine enthusiasm.

What are your Intentions?

---

Dreams of a dragon
Trorrie

"In my defence, my day started at later hour... Actually... Is three poached eggs and a waffle or two in my future?.. Anything going on in town at any time today I didn't notice before I got here?"

The Waitress shrugs. "Unless you're local, time is really relative to whatever you were doing. I can put in an order for breakfast for you. As for is anything going on in Center, could be, I personally don't know, nothing that interests me really is going on as far as I know." The Waitress answers before heading off to get Trorrie breakfast.

A little bit later, she returns with a plate of Eggs and Waffles, and a caddy of condiments for them. "There you go." The Waitress says. "If you're just looking for fun, I'd head down to level three or four, there is always things to do down there." The waitress says before heading off to help one of the other guests.

What are your Intentions?

[Bryke]

Perception: 54% +2% | 1d100: [47] = 47
JiC d20/d100 | 1d20: [11] = 11 / 1d100: [21] = 21

Conditions:
Optimistic

Status:
MindBlock: AutoDefense
Sense Dimensional Anomalies: Can automatically detect rifts, dimensional envelopes and pockets, fourth-dimensional and Two-dimensional beings, astral travelers and the invisible energy essence of alien intelligences and entities. Range: One mile (1.6) or line of sight, whichever is less.
Doesn't breathe air and is immune to radiation and normal heat, fire, cold, gases and disease. Can see in total darkness and has eagle-like normal vision.
Sixth Sense
HF 10


.................
Before Heading Out to Make the LightBlade:

Bel shakes his head. "You done all I've ask for thus far. I would think a being such as yourself would not enjoy being in the service of others. When you accrued as many favors to people in the tower as you have, I would have thought you would be on the ball asking what you can do, instead of waiting for one of us to randomly ask. That being said, I purchased your debt, so you only owe me now. So please go make the Lightblade, I need it for a customer." Bel says.

Maybe I planned to wait them out.. mean.. only one who out lives me in this place is big bro' And he can't be charged with keeping my ledger. He smiles at the inner quip looking off into the direction of the second stage Prometheans' space, but thinks it best to keep that to himself. Besides, never thought of these favors as that pressing... -Never seen Bel make that face tho, ssslike he's at a loss in the patience department right now- yeah. Maybe no jokes right now- but it was such a good one. His mouth makes the shape of a word as his gaze comes back to Bel, he goes to speak, mouth agape and silent though, he looks at his mentor and thinks differently, "Aaaaaalright Bel- hear ya. This One will get back with you when done." He nods and walks off.

...............................
After Making the LightBlade:

One down, four more to go- damn.. wonder what he had to pay to acquire my debt.. shit.

The Promethean holds the finished hilt up to the spotlight, surveying his work methodically. A smile washes over him as the pride in accomplishment hits his mental like the warm wave of shower water, splashing him for the first time, in a "soft" water salt-filtered system.

OOC Comments

If you dont know... I hope you do some day.

That'll do it. Think this is some of my best work- well haven't made a whole lot yet to measure that by, but still. Its some good force by distance for sure. He smirks at his own physics joke, turning into a big smile when he takes the finished work to Bel.

"What do you think- does it qualify?" He says, smile fading, The Promethean unconsciously forms a more serious demeanor. Anxious about what his mentor will say about his work foremost, but also if it will count toward the sizeable favor pool.

What can This One do to get a second taken off ledger? He is stone-faced but secretly hopes they can be done in a hurry. Refusing to look at his timepiece though or seem as if he is in a hurry. Maybe in between doing these favors I can use the lab(s) to make some much needed things for self- If only I could be in two places at once-
"Actually.. Is there something big This One can do that could count for more than one favor?" Bryke says, with hope in his near imperceptible contra base.

[Trorrie]

Perception: 1d100: [98] = 98 /29%
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 / 1d100: [27] = 27

Conditions: Mind Block Auto-Defense. Sixth Sense
Worn: Psionic Crystal Armor, sunglasses, and Phase sword, that's it.

The Waitress shrugs. "Unless you're local, time is really relative to whatever you were doing. I can put in an order for breakfast for you. As for is anything going on in Center, could be, I personally don't know, nothing that interests me really is going on as far as I know." The Waitress answers before heading off to get Trorrie breakfast.

"Oh yeah. I'm not on some frozen mining world anymore." She remembers the planet she is on. "Travel does that."

A little bit later, she returns with a plate of Eggs and Waffles, and a caddy of condiments for them. "There you go." The Waitress says. "If you're just looking for fun, I'd head down to level three or four, there is always things to do down there." The waitress says before heading off to help one of the other guests.

"Thanks." She answers with a little smile and proceeds to move the eggs onto one waffle, give them some honey and top it with the other waffle like a sandwich.

She nods with the answer to where she may find entertainment and takes a bite of the potentially runny sandwich she had constructed. She accepts there will be some mess as she tries to keep it to a minimum to some avail. Any looks she may receive are only met with a "Hi. Good food here."

Afterwards, she pays with a nice tip and, "Enjoy the rest of your day."

She makes her way to the third level with an intentional frown for her own amusement for a while. At some point, with telekinesis, Trorrie shifts something small and inconspicuous so that someone not far behind her slips or the individual is in a momentary panic at the perception of something gone missing. She gives a shot at not showing she finds the misfortune momentarily amusing. One or two unattended children that meet the Draconid on her way to destination currently-unknown get an energy drink from the nearest vending machine and sent on their way. The children get the standard, "Where're your parents?" and similar questions and answers during the interaction.

At no time does she forget she is on one of the most important planets in the three galaxies in one of the sketchiest parts of its city but she doesn't walk around entirely on edge of the probability of being mugged, she walks like she knows where she's going though she necessarily does not. She observes the deals going on in the windows.

[Pertinax]

Perception (36%) 1d100: [37] = 37
JiC 1d20: [10] = 10 / 1d100: [81] = 81

Armor
Talisman of Armor of Ithan (Inactive)
Black boots
Blue pants
Blue and orange hooded jacket

Weapon
Ripper vibro-knife
Kimarxi hunting knife
HW-19 stun pistol (20/20)

"Pertinax it sounds like you need a hobby. Now I wouldn't say you should take up stamp collecting. You do need to find something that at the very least keeps your hands and mind busy when you have free time. For me it's reading, but I know that isn't for everyone."

"I read plenty," Pertinax snorts. His tone is dismissive but not hostile, as if to dare someone to question how well read the tarlok is*. "But I cannot spend every moment between missions reading. I grow restless without a purpose." You have a purpose! You must find your missing soldiers! Create a battalion! Overthrow the decadent government of the Tarlok Empire and restore it to its proper glory!

"Folk like us are born into violence and usually die from violence... It's rare when we can find time to live a life free of it. So in a crude way the Octoman is right."

"He is," Pertinax says with a stiff nod. "My personal pursuits are space whale hunts." When the two give Pertinax a confused look he snaps, "I mean it is a futile hunt for an impossible goal, as in the famous Golgan novel, Möbius Dyck? I read more than just tarlok military history." He says that last part with actual hostility. Why does no one think that tarloks are well read?**

If the scarred man has returned with a fresh pot of tea, Pertinax will pour himself another cup. Holding the glass between his thumb and kingfinger. "So what should I do when I am not hurting people, or drinking, or reading?"

* Oddly enough, no one in the entire Three Galaxies has ever questioned how well read a tarlok is.
** Because they are not.

[Glitch]

Perception: 1d100: [6] = 6 /45%
JiC: 1d100: [55] = 55 / 1d20: [15] = 15

Conditions and ProgramsPassive (Always On) Conditions: Modulating Voice Synthesizer (Glitch maintains a human-like voice that sounds like it has a little static from a radio in it) | Sensory Antenna (10 ft) | Clock Calendar | Internal Juke Box [Glitch adjusts his profile to play internally |

Opaque

| All tech-based sensory equipment is -10% to track him

Active (Toggled ON) Conditions [Cycles every 120 seconds (2 minutes) as a main process while not actively engaging]: Explosives Detector (12ft radius) | Bug Detector (60ft radius) | External Video and Audio Surveillance (EVAS) | Radar Detector (80%) | Radiation Detector (60ft radius; identifies all forms of radiation and their level of harm to organic/synthetic matter) | Forcefield:110/110 MDC | Motion Detector and Warning System | Micro Hover-Jets

Active Programs [As of the Hunt]: Military Espionage: Undercover | Military Intelligence | Technical: Computers | Military Communications: Advanced

Skills:


Post:

"This should take me approximately three hours, depending on the complexity of the wiring harness. I will need to take you offline for portions of the work."

While still something the intelligence wasn't truly comfortable with, he had grown confident in Sigma's intentions and was more willing to trust the machinist. Glitch didn't protest like he did the first time and instead simply acknowledged it. Log: Sigma is far more concerned with a challenging project than randomly betraying me and is the first person since my creator to take me offline. Glitch logs, recognizing how long it's been since he allowed someone else to shut him down.

"All done, systems integrated. Should take about an hour for the firmware to settle, but I doubt it will prove to be an issue." ... "The services come to six hundred and thirty thousand universal credits."

When Glitch powers back and and runs the firmware update on the new hardware as he looks to Sigma. "Acceptable." Glitch doesn't try haggling. The concept of haggling was counter-productive to the intelligence. Glitch expects the best, most precise work, so whatever price they require to accommodate that level of competence was usually acceptable at face value. (Would you like me to deduct the credits or you? I also did not add the 19k from the previous job to Glitch's sheet.)

After settling accounts for the work, Glitch nods to Sigma and prepares to leave. "I will return soon to further discuss the transformable chassis project." Glitch states and then leaves to start a new hunt.

After the successful installation of the translator and the Out of Phase Field, Glitch decides to test his new equipment by seeking out a more challenging mark. Glitch walks the streets of Levels 1 and 2, letting the firmware settle before engaging. To the intelligence, it made all the sense that on the planet where no extradition was possible, assassination marks would be all the more prevalent to rid certain powers that be of potential troublemakers. Glitch wasn't built for mercy, he had killed his own creator, after all.

No, Glitch was built with two main things in mind; infiltration and assassination. Getting into a location without being caught, killing a target and retreating before security even knew what had happened. As Glitch likes to put it, when he as to fight through guards, it's because he's made a mistake and the intelligence rarely made such mistakes. Now with the new Out of Phase field, one of his primary functions could be achieved more efficiently.

Fortunately the assassin intelligence had some experience with finding the right clientele with the right sort of trouble makers. It didn't take him long to find another contract, some ambassador had tracked a runaway from their homeworld but couldn't get to him. Glitch found himself being hired through an intermediary, to hunt down and eliminate a single target. They had the location, and some decent information on the target but Phase World Security Forces and non-extradition treaties prevented any direct action. Less they risk their ambassadorial stature on this fair planet. No, this target had thought of everything. They hired local muscle and were holed up in some hole-in-the-wall bar. Glitch would need to get past the muscle and take out the target, then leave without being detected. No shoot outs, no Security Forces, no local alarm until the deed was long done. A challenge for the intelligence, and one he reveled in.

Glitch soon found himself heading back towards the lower levels, his weapons secured on his back as the firmware finally had time to settle. Now below level 4, Glitch tested the Out of Phase Field. He engaged the Field and crossed through a solid wall, passing by a checkpoint manned by local gangoons without trouble. Next would be infiltrating the dive bar.

Glitch didn't have to look for it, his client was well informed and tired of waiting for them to come out of hiding. Glitch found the dive bar quickly and found it was populated largely by organic females. Most of the identifiable males were of the hired muscle, all carrying assault weapons, of various races. Child's play The assassin intelligence opaque visor briefly flashed a distorted smile. Glitch knew his target was a

There are small alleyways that are barely big enough for a person, the windows to either building boarded up. Glitch could hear the sound of the music pumping from the dive bar. Glitch knew his target; a Kreeghor defector. This will be the second time he's come face to face with a Kreeghor and the first time was dangerous enough. Worth the credits this time, the intelligence hoped. The first time was for his Creator.

He knew this infiltration wouldn't be simple, but the intelligence had nothing but time. Using his Out of Phase Field, he peered inside the walls of the dive bar and narrowly avoided a guard making his rounds. A human from the looks of it. Good. Glitch moved in and followed the guard until he found a security room; just what the Intelligence needed. Without opening the door, Glitch peered inside and found a Wolfen at one of the terminals. Glitch loaded his tranquilizer and readied his garrot wire, then snuck inside. He deactivated his Out of Phase Field. The dark security room of the dive bar already giving the jet-black intelligence an advantage as he swiftly wrapped the wire around the unsuspecting Wolfen's throat before it could bark for help. Glitch locked his legs around the Wolfen's to prevent him from kicking, and brought him to the ground until he lost consciousness. Glitch scanned the room and found a gun locker. Large enough to uncomfortably house the Wolfen, good. Glitch crammed the unconscious organic within and locked the locker from the outside before moving to the terminal.

Glitch disabled the cameras on the location and erased all camera footage from two hours prior. Enough to cause a wild goose chase should one even be had. Glitch checked the guard rotations, and determined no one was scheduled to relieve the Wolfen for at least half an hour. Plenty of time. Glitch also ensured the music was blasting as loud as it could be. Then, using the blueprints of the bar, he climbed up the ceiling and reactivated his Out of Phase Field to ascend through the floor to the next level. He was one room away from his target. Security on this floor was noticeably lighter due to there being no direct access except via the floor below. A mistake, the Intelligence determined.

Glitch found the target in the V.I.P. room; a room with a large one-sided window to look upon the organic strippers from relative privacy. Fortunately, there were none within the room itself. Glitch noticed a computer terminal in the corner that likely had the intelligence that needed to be expunged. But first, the target. The large hulk of a brute was sitting on a couch, drinking something and watching the show. Oblivious to the threat in the room with him. While distracted by the show, Glitch doused the target's drink with the tranquillizer then retreated to the shadows of the room. He must've viewed himself as untouchable in this area, safe from the enemies he's made. It would be the last mistake he made.

Glitch waited until the target took another drink, he noticed the flavor changed and looked at his drink, then around the room. Glitch's dark silhouette practically invisible in the darkness as Glitch saw him shrug and pour another drink after downing the first one. Not one to waste alcohol. Then the Kreeghor started becoming drowsy, and this is what Glitch was waiting for. They had tough hides. Glitch drew his trusty blade and leveled a precise strike at the Kreeghor's neck from behind. Aiming inbetween the plates, he swung. The inebriated Kreeghor felt the powerful blow as Glitch's calculations provided contact at a critical location, the blade slicing through almost seamlessly. Glitch wasn't surprised to find that his blade wasn't enough even with such a blow. Fortunately, that wasn't the only trick up his sleeve. The blade then sent an electrical discharge through the target. The Kreehor attempted to retaliate as it stood up and blindly attacked Glitch with a wild and wide bare-knuckle strike. Glitch was continually impressed by their resilience.

Unfortunately for the Kreeghor, the tranquilizer was in full effect and causing his movements to be sluggish. The target did try to call for help, Glitch could tell from the gargled Kreeghor speak his translator picked up. It was moot though as Glitch's initial strike slit through part of his throat. In one more swift action, Glitch leveled his sword again at an angle, dodging the wild haymaker and with this strike, taking the brute's head cleanly off. The body fell back on the large couch it had been occupying as the head rolled down the room. Glitch moved the body to lay flat on the couch, then collected the head. He quickly looked over the contents of the computer and recorded himself erasing all the intelligence that was to be sold. A traitor among organics; such a commonality.

Glitch had no cause to go back the way he came. Instead, with the head secured, Glitch simply exited through the wall leading to one of the back alleys, peering down to avoid any guards. They didn't patrol the alleyways; too dangerous, perhaps. Whatever the reason, Glitch disappeared into the next building, then made his way back to the Level One. Glitch was gone long before the Wolfen or Kreeghor were ever noticed, in fact Glitch still wasn't sure the Wolfen would live, not that it mattered. The head of his target secured wrapped in a bag, he dropped it off at the drop point along with the video evidence of the file erasure. It was hard to tell if his client was pleased, but that's a normal thing for their race. Instead, Glitch took his payment and made his way back to the Rogue.

This time to restock on his expended doses and begin work on the new chassis he'd be commissioning from Sigma. Glitch had no intention on telling the Rogues about his plans, or his hunts. Whatever money he made he would file away until he acquired the required amount to continue. For now, Glitch was pleased his Out of Phase field worked as expected.

[Yates]

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [24] = 24 | 21%
JIC: 1d20: [7] = 7 | d%: [98] = 98
-----------------------------------

Character Sheet
PPE: 99/99
ISP: 104/104
HP: 31/31
SDC: 110/110
Worn:

• N-F40A Heavy Force Field
  
  M.D.C. by Location:

  • Force Field: 110

  
  Weight: 15 lbs.
  Modifiers: none
  Features:

  • 8 hour duration per E-clip

  
  Book Reference: p.122, DB2
• Utility Belt
  Attachment points can be utilized to carry 1 each of the following item types: sidearm, magazine, E-clip, grenade, canteen, food ration pack, minor items or individual tools.
  • Attachment: GR-45HP "Jack Hammer" Heavy Pistol
  • Attachment: 2 GR-45HP Magazines
  • Attachment: Flashlight
  • Attachment: Survival Knife

---

Saving Throw Bonuses
Coma/Death: +20%
Magic (varies): +5
Lethal Poison (14+): +5
Non-Lethal Poison (16+): +5
Insanity (12+):
Psionics (varies):
Horror Factor (varies): +3

McMasters chuckles in a deep baritone. "Yates, I don't think you've ever been up this early in the morning."

"They say that the early bird catches the worm, you know." Yates quotes before making a disgusted look suggesting how unappealing the idea is to him, "But I make an exception for you today." The Timneh retorts, cracking his beak into a wide grin.

"Just drinking my morning coffee, the booze comes a little later. As for business... Not slow per say, just unreasonably peaceful the past few months. After those demons tore through here, Several of the more violent gangs saw their numbers eaten, literally... so now they're weakened to the point of impotence. So we're just kind of watching while doing our thing." McMasters says, before finishing his coffee.

"Watching and waiting. Waiting and watching. So dull, darling." Yates gently reprimands while rolling his eyes dramatically. "That is so... without purpose. Take advantage of the lull. Expand!" The Timneh balls up a fist with emphasis.

"So enough about an old man, what about you Yates? What is new?" McMasters asks with genuine enthusiasm.

"Yes well, the story is as old as time. Yates flees the lower levels of Center. Is blessed by Sadal to be spirited away to the manor of Lord Thraxus on Level 1. Is recruited to one of Thraxus' mercenary teams. Is successful on mission. And goes knocking around old haunts during his downtime on Center." He waves a hand dismissively at the repetitive nature of such common children's stories.

Then he produces the cred-stick that he had intended to spend frivolously in the lower levels and slides it across to McMasters. "Here, take. I invest. Go expand!" Yates again does the fist balling action.

[Mungo]

Perception v34% 1d100: [70] = 70
JIC, 1d20: [20] = 20 JIC, 1d100: [2] = 2

"Folk like us are born into violence and usually die from violence... It's rare when we can find time to live a life free of it. So in a crude way the Octoman is right."

"He is," Pertinax says with a stiff nod.

Mungo turns his head to the side, away from the bartender and Pertinax and rolls his eyes as dramatically as he can muster. Crude?! Right - in a crude way. As in merely correct? My dear dispenser of beverages: I hit the nail on the fucking head! You bloody Buffoon! Ahem... onwards with good manners and such... Doing so he manages to avoid an unseemly outburst.

Mungo considers Pert’s question about what to do during downtime and comes up with an idea.

“You need a Change of scenery Pertinax! No, I’m not talking about a vacation... Well I am actually! But not in the way you expect.” Mungo pauses and focuses his energies and casts a spell on himself [cast metamorphosis human on himself.] His appearance changes completely as the spell morphs his form into a pretty normal looking human male. Brown eyes, slightly curly hair, fair complexion and a distinctly average height, weight and build. “Hello! You may call me Fungo! I’m Mungo! But more fingers, less legs and a comically tiny head. Look! Fingers!

Anyhoo! What I’m suggesting is we give you a break from being you. No longer will people be repulsed by your mere presence and the stupidity of your species evolution, evidenced by your hunting armoured form! That’ll only happen once you open your mouth and reveal your true character. If you allow me I cast this spell on you and we go out and see what happens. Grab a meal! Go shopping! Go to a sporting event! I’ll be Fungo and you can be Guy Incognito, the most average human men who ever averaged!”

Mungo leaves the question hanging, waiting for Pert to reply.

[Pertinax]

<Rolls carry>

Pertinax watches Mungo transform into a human with mild amusement. As a species, tarlok are not magic users, and thus very dismissive of the entire practice. You cannot say that it is an improvement in his appearance, but he does look like he would blend fit in one of the upper levels. And less squishy.

"You need a Change of scenery... Grab a meal! Go shopping! Go to a sporting event! I’ll be Fungo and you can be Guy Incognito, the most average human men who ever averaged!"

The amusement fades at Mungo's proposal. He drains his tea and pours himself another cup, letting it rest between his two fingers as he ponders the idea. It is not the first time you have put on a human disguise.* But that was in service of the Tarlok Empire, not to have some jollies. Then again, what is the point of serving the Tarlok Empire. And then he mutters, "Fux it."

He gets up and spreads out his arms, signaling for Mungo to do his magic. "Guy Incognito?" He turns to the scarred man, cleaning a glass at the bar. "Tedrick, how do I look?" Regardless of what the scarred man says, Pertinax says to Mungo. "Let's go."


* You are standing on a street in one of the more heavily bombed parts of Rylor. If your contact is to be believed, you will soon be meeting with with leaders of the Skryapers (stupid name). And you have little reason to doubt him. After all, the best shertar scientists spent hours altering your appearance so you resemble a human mutant. Granted, without serious skeletal realignments (that you firmly rejected) you would never look like a proper human. But the prosthetics make you look like a perfectly convincing bio-freak, as the natives call them.
And it worked! This you are sure of. You went to a human gathering and blended in with the natives. As you seamlessly mingled with them, you noticed one that clearly looked like a resistance member, a young man with dyed blue hair, several facial piercings, and a scar on his chin. You effortlessly slided next to him and said, "Hello, fellow Seeronian, it is a lovely afternoon."
The man responded but a polite nod, an invitation to further conversation.
"I am looking for the local resistance cell, can you introduce me to them." The human raised his eyebrow at the mention of the resistance, so you applied more subterfuge. "I was forcibely moved here by the tarlok from my home city, Zabar, you see. Now I want to get my revenge."
Although initially skeptical, the man relented and told you where a small squad of Skraypers meet new recruits. He said that they meet any time between 2200 and 0200. You do not like having to wait four hours, but the man explained that the tarlok patrols are too tight to meet at the same time every night. This makes sense, you know that the tarlok occupation of Seeron is a fine tuned machine.
So you are waiting. And waiting. Midnight passes, and you do not see a single other person on the street. By 0155 you start to doubt that anyone will show up. Yet you wait an additional 30 minutes. Watching the sunrise, you wonder why the Skraypers did not show up last night. Hopefully one of the tarlok patrols caught them earlier in the evening.

[Consumer]

Therapy... Maybe?
Pertinax & Mungo

"I read plenty, but I cannot spend every moment between missions reading. I grow restless without a purpose."

The scarred man nods, but Pertinax is unsure if it's because he is being placated, or that he agrees. "Nor would I expect you to, that would just be another vice. We're creatures fueled by an inbalance of chemicals in our very blood. It's very hard to argue with ones blood. Believe me I have tried." The scarred bartender says.

"He is, my personal pursuits are space whale hunts. I mean it is a futile hunt for an impossible goal, as in the famous Golgan novel, Möbius Dyck? I read more than just tarlok military history. So what should I do when I am not hurting people, or drinking, or reading?"

The bartender shrugs. "That's one thing I can't tell you. It's different for everyone. I only make suggestions, it's up to you to go out and find what will bring peace to your mind." The bartender says.

“You need a Change of scenery Pertinax! No, I’m not talking about a vacation... Well I am actually! But not in the way you expect.”

A quick casting of a spell later, leaves Mungo in the shape of a relatively normal human, the only tell tales seem to be a gentle swaying of Mungo's new form, likely just a natural habit.

“Hello! You may call me Fungo! I’m Mungo! But more fingers, less legs and a comically tiny head. Look! Fingers! Anyhoo! What I’m suggesting is we give you a break from being you. No longer will people be repulsed by your mere presence and the stupidity of your species evolution, evidenced by your hunting armoured form! That’ll only happen once you open your mouth and reveal your true character. If you allow me I cast this spell on you and we go out and see what happens. Grab a meal! Go shopping! Go to a sporting event! I’ll be Fungo and you can be Guy Incognito, the most average human men who ever averaged!”

"Fux it. Guy Incognito?"

Fungo, formerly the Octoman known as Mungo, casts the spell once more, and Pertinax is transformed into another equally forgettable human. It is a rather good disguise, save Guy Incognito's habit to hunch like a cheap horror movie villain.

"Tedrick, how do I look?" Let's go."

The bartender laughs. "Should be good, I'd say." Pertinax and Mungo leave, the bartender still chuckling over the whole thing.

What are your Intentions?

---

A man enters a body building competition...
Glitch

The procedure under the skilled hands of Sigma goes exactly as forewarned, three hours to the second. The new icons in Glitch's HUD showed the systems were working out the firmware updates. Sigma takes his payment and nods at Glitch's mention of returning later for a conversation.

Glitch goes on a little adventure, finishing and making his way to the phase transport pads on level two. It's while enroute that Glitch notices his account ding, with a payment of fifty thousand credits.

What are your Intentions?

---

A colorful mind.
Yates

"They say that the early bird catches the worm, you know. But I make an exception for you today. Watching and waiting. Waiting and watching. So dull, darling. That is so... without purpose. Take advantage of the lull. Expand!"

The old man laughs. "You always were a strange bird Yates. As for expansion, that's not my job to say, I'm just in charge of security, the bulk of the business rests on other shoulders." McMasters says.

"Yes well, the story is as old as time. Yates flees the lower levels of Center. Is blessed by Sadal to be spirited away to the manor of Lord Thraxus on Level 1. Is recruited to one of Thraxus' mercenary teams. Is successful on mission. And goes knocking around old haunts during his downtime on Center. Here, take. I invest. Go expand!"

McMasters' nods approvingly. "Working for Thraxus now, well you've definitely hit the big time then. Even still remembers his humble roots. You have always been a good kid Yates, so I think you'll do fine with these mercs you've joined. Make a name for yourself out in the stars, then come back in your retirement." McMasters says with twist of nostalgia in his tone. The gunfighter picks up the credstick an looks at it.


What are your Intentions?

---

Dreams of a dragon
Trorrie

Trorrie for her part, wanders the busy level three, trying to find ways to amuse herself. Mild pranks and surprising acts of kindness in equal measure. Trorrie spends most of her time wandering the aisles and throughways of the Open Market Square, skirting the edge of Wonder World and the expenses such a place incurs. The market is full of interesting spaces selling all manner of things, some cheap as can be while others cost a type of wealth the young Draconoid has only dreamed of. For all her wandering though, Trorrie still doesn't manage to notice anything particularly special. (Crit Fail Perception)

What are your Intentions?

Debtor
Bryke

"What do you think- does it qualify?.. What can This One do to get a second taken off ledger?.. Actually.. Is there something big This One can do that could count for more than one favor?"

Bel turns the light blade over in his hands thoughtfully, callused old fingers running over the casing. The old master Techno-wizard mumbling to himself as he does such. Eventually, Bel activates the weapon and looks at the blade once more. "Hmmm." Issues from Bel's throat, before he shuts the blade off. "Not quite standard, and the added sense magic is an odd touch, it should work. Though in the future I would refrain from adding anything to projects I give you." Bel says as he puts the sword hilt on the end table next to him.

Bel looks thoughtful for a moment, before shrugging. "Actually to be fair, I don't have anything for you to do at the moment, small or big alike. So you're free to pursue your own agendas for the moment." Bel says with a mildly dismissive hand gesture. This leaves Bryke with an indeterminate amount of time to try and get something done.


What are your Intentions?

[Glitch]

Perception: 1d100: [45] = 45 /45%
JiC: 1d100: [50] = 50 / 1d20: [9] = 9

Conditions and ProgramsPassive (Always On) Conditions: Modulating Voice Synthesizer (Glitch maintains a human-like voice that sounds like it has a little static from a radio in it) | Sensory Antenna (10 ft) | Clock Calendar | Internal Juke Box [Glitch adjusts his profile to play internally |

Opaque

| All tech-based sensory equipment is -10% to track him

Active (Toggled ON) Conditions [Cycles every 120 seconds (2 minutes) as a main process while not actively engaging]: Explosives Detector (12ft radius) | Bug Detector (60ft radius) | External Video and Audio Surveillance (EVAS) | Radar Detector (80%) | Radiation Detector (60ft radius; identifies all forms of radiation and their level of harm to organic/synthetic matter) | Forcefield:110/110 MDC | Motion Detector and Warning System | Micro Hover-Jets

Active Programs [As of the Hunt]: Military Espionage: Undercover | Military Intelligence | Technical: Computers | Military Communications: Advanced

Skills:


Post:

As the credits ding into Glitch's account, the Intelligence could be considered quite pleased with the results. Observation; I would need to take on several lower rung jobs before landing on that might be worth enough to fund my second chassis. It is more conceivable that I will receive the necessary funds from the next group assignment the Rogues acquires. I will return to them and check in. Glitch decides. Not willing to commit to another Hunt without learning about what has transpired for the others.

When Glitch returns to the Rogue and finds it devoid of life, Glitch first walks the catwalks and hallways of the ship to determine no stowaways or undesirables have arrived. Presuming he is alone, the Intelligence begins construction a Chassis design in his internal databanks while standing on the bridge, looking outward, waiting.

[Yates]

-----------------------------------
Perception: d%: [28] = 28 | 21%
JIC: 1d20: [17] = 17 | d%: [30] = 30
-----------------------------------

Character Sheet
PPE: 99/99
ISP: 104/104
HP: 31/31
SDC: 110/110
Worn:

• N-F40A Heavy Force Field
  
  M.D.C. by Location:

  • Force Field: 110

  
  Weight: 15 lbs.
  Modifiers: none
  Features:

  • 8 hour duration per E-clip

  
  Book Reference: p.122, DB2
• Utility Belt
  Attachment points can be utilized to carry 1 each of the following item types: sidearm, magazine, E-clip, grenade, canteen, food ration pack, minor items or individual tools.
  • Attachment: GR-45HP "Jack Hammer" Heavy Pistol
  • Attachment: 2 GR-45HP Magazines
  • Attachment: Flashlight
  • Attachment: Survival Knife

---

Saving Throw Bonuses
Coma/Death: +20%
Magic (varies): +5
Lethal Poison (14+): +5
Non-Lethal Poison (16+): +5
Insanity (12+):
Psionics (varies):
Horror Factor (varies): +3

McMasters' nods approvingly. "Working for Thraxus now, well you've definitely hit the big time then. Even still remembers his humble roots. You have always been a good kid Yates, so I think you'll do fine with these mercs you've joined. Make a name for yourself out in the stars, then come back in your retirement." McMasters says with twist of nostalgia in his tone. The gunfighter picks up the credstick an looks at it.

"200k." Yates clarifies softly.

What is that look? Does he miss the violent life of a mercenary? Maybe he was hoping to go out in a blaze of glory one day instead of nursing caffeine in the early hours of the day.

"And darling... Give me a better way to contact you. There may be a day in the future, Sadal willing, where it would be helpful to have extra friendly guns on our side. And I'd like to be able to subcontract you without combing the depths of Center to find you." Yates opens his beak in a broad smile, "What is your going rate anyway?"

Yates will wrap up his meeting with McMaster and head back to the Rogue, confident once again that he walks Sadal's path set before him.

[Trorrie]

Perception: 1d100: [30] = 30 /29%
JIC: 1d20: [20] = 20 / 1d100: [62] = 62

Conditions: Mind Block Auto-Defense. Sixth Sense
Worn: Psionic Crystal Armor, sunglasses, and Phase sword, that's it.

Wandering the Open Market of Level Three growing boring to her Trorrie seeks our something she knows would have her attention for an extended period: books, talking to the knowledgeable, and fast bikes. She gives her wandering a purpose as she still tries to avoid Wonder World; a place she would certainly be drained of money as fast as she entered such an enticing area. The Open Market is tempting enough with its enormous selection of stores and restaurants without venturing through the Wonder World as well. Another day perhaps?

Which was found first was interrupted for only seconds with her stop at a window with vibrant coats on display. Ooooh... look at the embroidery...

The actual first store she enters is a little book shop. Trorrie looks over the shelves of books with no specific topic in mind, simply looking through for titles that catch her eye, reading the back cover then a chapter or small section before putting it back to find another book. She could easily find herself in a discussion of the difficulties some have with telling the difference between the activities of many magical and supernatural creatures and a fabrication meant only to scare others out of doing something.

Lore: Demons and Monsters: 1d100: [3] = 3 /68% To recall information on demons and monsters accurately.

Her time at a bike shop after drowning time in literature is met solidly by her looking at the bikes on the showroom floor and reading into what specifically some of them can do, speed, handle-ability, and fuel being a priority. Gasoline can be expensive, and giving an engine other than solid oxide a chance could be a consideration, even if the actual purchase would not be happening today, tempting as it may be.

[Mungo]

Perception vs 36%
JIC: JIC:

"Tedrick, how do I look? Let's go."

“Tedrick, you look so incredibly mundane I can’t even bring myself to describe you. You are that dull and that boring!” Mungo states while looking Tedrick up and down. “So, what shall we do? The spell will wear off eventually. Therefore, time is somewhat of the essence. This little jaunt is for your benefit and you get to decide the itinerary. Consider me your wingman til the spell wears off.

Mungo pauses and focuses his attention and he tries to stand up. Whoa, easy there old boy... don’t want to fall flat in my face. He takes a couple of ginger steps forward as if unsure about this whole biped walking thing that bipeds make look so easy. After a few steps he smiles. “Ah good! I’m getting better at this whole two legged thing! Let’s go!”

He accompanied Pert out the door and into a land of biped mundaneness. Unless of course, Pert goes full-Pert and fuckery ensues. Which would not be a surprise. Then again Pert may go full-Pert and slump into a depressive mood and Emo out. Time will tell! Such excitement! Either option is fine with me!

[Pertinax]

Perception (36%) 1d100: [81] = 81
JiC 1d20: [9] = 9 / 1d100: [83] = 83

Armor
Talisman of Armor of Ithan (Inactive)
Black boots
Blue pants
Blue and orange hooded jacket

Weapon
Ripper vibro-knife
Kimarxi hunting knife
HW-19 stun pistol (20/20)

Guy Incognito steps out into the streets of Level 11. You are a new man. True, Pertinax has worn disguises and taken on alter egos before, but those were for missions. This is for pleasure. He is not burdened by his past. He isn't a rogue tarlok dreadmaster. And he is not banned from most drinking establishments on Levels 11, 12, 13, and 14 for being a foul drunk.

"So, what shall we do? The spell will wear off eventually. Therefore, time is somewhat of the essence. This little jaunt is for your benefit and you get to decide the itinerary. Consider me your wingman til the spell wears off."

That is the question. What do you do for fun? Pertinax 'Guy Incognito' stops to consider this. Since he is not tarlok dreadmaster, drinking in a sullen bar doesn't have the same allure, if it was ever alluring in the first place. Pertinax never had time for frivolities; even his entertainment was ponderous and moralizing. "I had not thought about this," he admits sheepishly. "What do humans do for fun? They go to shows, correct? So perhaps we should 'catch a show'."

"Ah good! I’m getting better at this whole two legged thing! Let’s go!"

"What shall we see? You seem to be a connoisseur of the arts."

[Bryke]

Perception: 54% +2% | 1d100: [64] = 64
JiC d20/d100 | 1d20: [2] = 2 / 1d100: [36] = 36

Conditions:
Optimistic

Status:
MindBlock: AutoDefense
Sense Dimensional Anomalies: Can automatically detect rifts, dimensional envelopes and pockets, fourth-dimensional and Two-dimensional beings, astral travelers and the invisible energy essence of alien intelligences and entities. Range: One mile (1.6) or line of sight, whichever is less.
Doesn't breathe air and is immune to radiation and normal heat, fire, cold, gases and disease. Can see in total darkness and has eagle-like normal vision.
Sixth Sense
HF 10

Let's look at this thing again. Bryke thinks alone back in the Towers' shop. Released from duties for now, the town is its so to speak. This One should be getting while there is time enough.

He again activates his HPC fingering the holographic hard light keys that split between the "G" and the keys up down and to its left, projected onto his left hand, and likewise from the "H" and to the right, projected onto his right hand. A hand gesture allows the numpad to toggle onto whichever hand he chooses, sometimes left, sometimes right.

The screen displays in front of him:



.......................................................
This One's Creation(s)/Shopping List:

1. Focusing Apparatus (Wand)
2. Grenade: Warped Space
3. Grenade: Time Stop
4. Field Generator: Paradox
5. Cleanse Bar
6. Cloak: Invisibility Superior
7. Dimensional: Envelope
8. Dimensional: Pocket
9. Droid: Surveillance would need to make it organic or magical in some way other wise it can be hacked..
10. Start a Business near impossible with the Naruni and Thraxxus as direct competitors..
11. T'zhee Weapon(s) and Ammo
.....................................................................

Think only a couple of these can get done in time. Will have to hold off on the rest.

"When This One is here next, This One will take care of more favors. Til' next time Bel." The Promethean says with a smile and leaves the Tower.

Bryke heads to Center's upper levels to find a Tzhee pistol and/or ammo. Once finished with that, he heads back to ship to work on this creation list of his.

Upon his return to the ship The Promethean pauses to study Glitch... Can not place it... but something is different about that guy... is he taller? Fascinated with the possibilities Bryke asks,

"Can you grow over time Android???"

He will continue walking, albeit slower, to listen for an answer- no doubt the answer is yes he thinks quietly, but how is the question and in what ways. as he heads to the workshop

......................................................................................
Rolls
Bryke searches for sellers and hideouts of the Tzhee, the Tzhee Pirhana Gun and/or the ammo of that weapon on the web and darkwebs of Center. The Promethean uses his imposing frame to gain information when/if applicable: Computer Operation 65% | 1d100: [31] = 31 , Research 45% | 1d100: [49] = 49 , Lore: Demons & Monsters 80% | 1d100: [9] = 9 , Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 55% | 1d100: [80] = 80 , Natural HF of 10.

[Consumer]

Therapy... Maybe?
Pertinax & Mungo

Fungo and Guy Incognito make there way quickly from Croc's to explore the idea of being average. Strangely enough, Pertinax notes that it's almost peaceful to act the part. No one seems to pay him much mind, and more so they don't cause him any grief, which is common enough among his species. The duo catch a early matinee of a fusion opera/play in the style of some species neither have heard of. It's decent enough, certainly isn't going to get anywhere further than a playhouse on the lower levels. Eventually the metamorphosis enchantment fails and Pertinax and Mungo are once again themselves. Following this, the pair makes their way back to the Rogue.

---

A man enters a body building competition...
Glitch

Glitch done with what he deems important for the moment stalks the catwalks and halls of the Rogue. With no one around, Glitch makes his way to the bridge and begins working out the details of a possible future body.

---

A colorful mind.
Yates

"And darling... Give me a better way to contact you. There may be a day in the future, Sadal willing, where it would be helpful to have extra friendly guns on our side. And I'd like to be able to subcontract you without combing the depths of Center to find you. What is your going rate anyway?"

McMasters hands Yates a card. "Number is on there. As for my going rate, really depends on the job. Some things I do real cheap, because I like what I'm hearing, others I charge a fortune, because I really don't want to do it. So it's a case by case situation." McMasters says. The duo part, and Yates makes his way back to the ship.

GM Note: Unknown to Yates at the moment. McMasters pick pocketed the money back onto your person. ~Consumer

---

Dreams of a dragon
Trorrie

Trorrie spends some time wandering about looking at things that interest her. Bikes, books, and other weirdness. All in all it's a pleasant experience for the Dracanoid. Eventually, Trorrie makes her way back to the Rogue.

Debtor
Bryke

Bryke, freed of any immediate duties by his mentor Bel, gets while the getting is good. Not before updating his to-do list though. Bryke heads up to the upper levels to do some shopping. After a few hours of scouring shops and websites, Bryke is unable to find anyone selling the T'zee Piranha Gun on Center. With nothing else, Bryke makes it to the Rogue.

What are your Intentions?