Joined: Mon Jan 11, 2010 5:07 pm
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Location: B'ham, AL
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Jonathan Miguel Sanchez Vila-Lobos Ramirez Marleon-- or Gentleman JohnnyMetatype : Human Magician (Chaos) buy points spent 400 Body: 3 (bp 20) Agility: 4 (bp 30) Reaction: 3 (bp 20) Strength: 1 Charisma: 3 (bp 20) Intuition: 4 (bp 30) Logic: 4 (bp 30) Willpower: 5 (bp 40) Edge: 4 (bp 20) Magic: 5 (bp 40) Initiative: 7 Essence: 6 Knowledge Skills English : N Magical Threats : 3 (kp 3) Magic Background : 3 (kp 3) Spirits : 3 (kp 3) Japanese : 3 (kp 3) Latin : 4 (kp 4) Sperethiel : 2 (kp 2) Or'zet : 2 (kp 2) Liqour : 4 (kp 4) Active Skills Sorcery Group (bp 40) Counterspelling : 4 Ritual Spellcasting : 4 Spellcasting : 4 Conjuring Group (bp 30) Banishing : 3 Binding : 3 Summoning : 3 Single Skills (bp 50) Con : 2 Palming : 2 Astral Combat : 3 Assensing : 3 Pistols (Revolvers) : 2 Positive Qualities Erased (bp 10) Magician (bp 15) Negative Qualities (total gained 35) Computer Illiterate (bp 5) Gremlins 2 (bp 10) Weak Immune System (bp 5) Enemy 2 (bp 10) Vendetta (bp 5) Resources (bp 3) Weapons Ruger Super Warhawk 6P AP(-1) Mode(SS) AMMO(6CYL) 250 Regular Ammo (10 shots) 20 Explosive Rounds +1 DV (10 shots) 50 Stick-n-Shock 6S (10 shots) 80 Concealable Holster 75 Speed Loader 25 Custom Look Level 2 1000 (revolver is as long as his leg, he wears it in his pants leg and has developed a limp to cover its presence. Meant as last ditch gag weapon.) Cavalier Deputy 5P AP(-1) MODE(SA) AMMO(7CYL) 225 Regular Ammo (10 shots) 20 Explosive Rounds (10 shots) 50 Stick-n-Shock (10 shots) 80 Concealable Holster 75 Speed Loader 25 Armors Top Hat, Tuxedo [purple, shirt white] (with Zoot Suit style jacket (tails), pants and two tone shoes[purple & white]) and mid-length cape (black): Mortimer of London's Greatcoat Line 6/5 3000 Equipments Glasses: Lennon Style [rose lenses](Rating 4) 100 Vision Enhancement Rating 3 300, Vision Magnification (optical) 100 Cigarette Case (Scent-masking Cigarettex10 + lighter) 100 Fake License: weapon (Rating 2)x2 200 Fake License: weapon (Rating 2)x2 200 Fake SIN (Rating 1) 1000 Fake SIN (Rating 1) 1000 Comlink Sony Emperor 700 OS Renraku Ichi 600 Lifestyle Middle 1 month Cane Rubber Chicken Tarot Deck Deck of Playing Cards x4 Trick Coins FLowers Certified Credstick (Standard) 25 [300] Spells (bp 21) Cast at max Magic (Force = 5) Orgasm (Realistic, Single Sense) Type M Range LOS Duration S DV (F/2)-2 Shadow (Environmental, Area) Type P Range LOS(A) Duration S DV (F/2)+1 Control Thoughts (Mental) Type M Range LOS Duration S DV (F/2)+2 Improved Invisibility (Realistic, Single Sense) Type P Range LOS Duration S DV (F/2)+1 Fireball (Inderect) Elemental, Area) Type P Range LOS(A) Damage P Duration I DV (F/2)+5 Manabolt (Direct) Type M Range LOS Damage P Duration I DV (F/2) Lightning Bolt (Indirect, Elemental) Type P Range LOS Damage P Duration I DV (F/2)+3 Spirits (bp 9) Fire Spirit, Optional Power (Fear) 3 Services Beast Spirit, Optional Power (Natural Weapon) 3 Services Earth Spirit, Optional Power (Elemental Attack) 3 Services Contacts (bp 7) Marcus a.k.a.: {$c10n.\} Loyalty 4, Connections 3 Life until New YorkJonathan Miguel Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez Marleon was born into the family of a corporate CEO. His younger years were rife with irresponsibility and a distinct lack of interest in his father’s corporation, school, and his parents’ expectations in general.
He began to show some magical aptitude during his delinquent teens while terrorizing his parents’ reputation and the local female community with his scandalous lack of discretion. His father sent him to be apprenticed to one of his corporation’s highest ranking mages, hoping this would give his son some discipline and a direction in life.
He was very, very wrong. Formal training in magic only served to aid Johnny’s dilettante behavior. After being thrown out of his Master’s home for bedding both his master’s daughter and wife Johnny returned home to further degrade his family name.
After he was publicly involved in a scandal involving an Ork prostitute, three disreputable dwarves, and the daughter of one of his father’s strongest corporate allies his father became enraged. He publicly humiliated Johnny by striking him on the steps of the family home in front of several news agencies. Johnny decided he was fed up with his father’s draconian expectations and rules, and tired of the imagined mistreatment by his family. He chose to make them regret their poor conduct towards him by running away. Johnny believed this would hurt them emotionally and give him the freedom he had always wanted.
Much like his father, Johnny was very, very wrong. Upon finding Johnny gone and reading the letter he had left, his father acted quickly by having an unmanned hover crashed and declaring Johnny dead, with the tearful family by his side at numerous press conferences. Little did the public know they were tears of relief and happiness, not sorrow.
Johnny found himself alone with very little resources in the shadows. He learned quickly that his skills with magic were valuable and that his refusal to learn while young had left him with an utter lack of technical know-how. While he made fortune after fortune on runs he spent a large percentage of it hiring the abilities of hackers. Between his expensive tastes and constant need of hackers he was perpetually destitute.
A year into his shadow-running career he made the acquaintance of a rather talented techie named Marcus. Marcus was known in the Matrix as the Scion of the Root, or {$C10N.\}. He and Johnny came to a mutually beneficial agreement. Johnny would provide magical security and muscle while Marcus provided everything else.
These two, along with various fill in runners, gained a staggering amount of notoriety and respect in New York’s shadowy underworld. Marcus the Dwarf a.k.a.: {$C10N.\}
Coming home struggling with the after-burn of Novacoke and Troll whiskey wasn’t easy, but Marcus had gotten used to it. What made today different was that his rig and several other expensive electronic toys were ruined.
Johnny. Only Johnny. Damnit, he thinks as he looks down on the ruined kit. If the little bastard wasn’t so talented he’d of died shortly after starting puberty.
The proximity alarms he’d rigged on the front entrance begins wailing, announcing a visitor. Oh, god. What now? He finds the monitor and tries to get it up and running then gives up when the door opens of its own accord.
“Marcus? Marcus, dear, are you here? I just met the most darling pair of Ork twins, Tweety and Pinky. These girls have the most amazing…” Johnny drawls as he comes in. He’s been out, Marcus thinks. The Hawaiian shirt and wide brimmed hat only come out when he’s going to that damned freak bar, the Frisky Troll.
“Johnny what happened to my kit?” Marcus interrupts him, not interested after the last double-date incident had landed him in the hospital.
“Kit? Oh, your little machines. You weren’t here and I tried to call you, but they started acting weird and…”
“Johnny, how many times have I told you not to touch my equipment? Do you know how expensive this kit is?” Marcus asks, more than a little irritated.
“Marcus darling, you worry too much! Here, I’ll whistle up a Wadsworth and have it find you a new one…”
“NO! No, Johnny, no spirits, not this time please,” remembering the last time Johnny brought a spirit into the house. Their senses of humor are even stranger than Johnny’s.
“Well then find one and I’ll buy it for you.”
“Johnny it’s not about the money,” he replies sounding tired.
“I know! We’ll steal one! I heard one of the Corps just opened new offices over in the Kitchen. They can’t have been hit yet.”
“No, we don’t need to steal one…”
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun! Like old times. If it matters I’ll leave some yen in its place.”
“JOHNNY!!” Marcus yells, throwing the broken monitor down, hoping to stem the unending tide.
“Oh! Ummm. Yes, Marcus?” Johnny replies, wide eyed.
“Johnny, you’ve got to go…”
“Why no, I don’t have to leave to meet the twins for another half hour at least…”
“No, Johnny, you’ve got to move out. I love ya like a brother, you know that, but you’ve got to go.”
“But, but …. Go? Where would I go? Who would take care of my date-ah thingies you’re always raving about?”
“I’ll take care of the data Johnny. And you’re going to Denver.”
“But… Denver? Listen to the name! Den-ver. It even sounds boring.”
“Look, Johnny, Denver sits on the border of several areas. Think of all the women there that have never met you…” Marcus says, cajoling and urging.
“You know, Marcus dearie, Denver doesn’t sound so bad after all.” Somewhere just outside Denver.
“Who is this twit?” the Troll grumbles to his buddies.
“I don’t know, but he’s kinda cute if ya ask me,” replies the human woman with the mohawk and cyberarms.
“Anything with a pulse is cute to you Mary. Shut up and listen,” the man next to her says as he pipes the feed from his cyberear through to their coms.
Ork Bouncer:”... n’t care who the hell you are, you ain’t comin in. Now git.”
Man in Top Hat: “But my good sir, my yen is good and my company better. Would you like to see a trick? I am an entertainer by trade you know.”
Ork Bouncer: ”You’ll entertain me all right. I’m gonna bleed you slow. Come here…”
Man in Top Hat: “Oh, how droll… SKREEE”
FEED INTERUPTED, HARMONIC FEEDBACK OVERLOAD…
Mary looks back towards the door as her friend’s cyberear melts itself into his head. She sees the short man in the purple tux push his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose, the Ork bouncer a charred pile of bones and ash in front of him.
The Troll slaps the screaming man with the cyberear away from the table, “Quit yer whining ya baby. Mary, invite the twit over for a drink.”
“What did he do to the bouncer?” Mary asks.
“Missed that did ya? Ha! Lighting bolts. From his eyes, no less. He might be of some use. Now go git ‘im quick, before someone else does,” the Troll growls. “And don’t be beddin ‘im either, don’t wanna scare ‘im off the job.”
Mary sticks her tongue out at the Troll as she leaves the table. She looks over the short man as she makes her way to him. With out the hat he may be five foot two, a hundred pounds with his clothes soaking wet. He wears the purple tux like it was made for him, the pants cut in a Zoot Suite style, with two-tone purple and white shoes that match the pure white shirt. The black thigh length cape draws the eyes to his trim figure, and the classic top hat set the outfit off. The glasses are the wire-rimmed round-lenses type, with the lenses shaded to match the tux. In his white-gloved hands he holds a black cane, which he leans on slightly as he walks.
Screw the Troll, Mary thinks as she gives the little man her best mischievous grin, I’ll bed him anyway, especially since Tom’s too busy screaming on the floor back there… Well, that could have gone better, Johnny thinks as he wakes, shaking the dirt and blood from his head, along with the disorientation of being knocked out. He found himself in a burned out building, with voices coming from the next room.
He stands, straightening his ruined clothing as best he can while remembering how he was reduced to unconsciousness. Ah, yes. The thirty foot fireball I threw at that annoyingly well armored vehicle chasing us from the weapons depot. He makes a list as he stumbles towards the door and the voices arguing in the other room. New tuxedo, cane, rounds for both pistols, and where in BLAZES will I find another rubber chicken?
“Damnit Ted, we’ve got to get him to a street doc, ASAP!”
Ah, the Maiden Mary. I’m glad she made it. She’s such a vigorous young lass. Those arms may be cold, and they may chafe quite fiercely, but they are SO strong! Johnny thinks upon hearing Mary’s voice.
“Naw, Mary, ya see, that’s where yer wrong. ‘We’ ain’t doin’ nuthin’ but goin’ our separate ways, and ‘I’ ain’t doin’ nuthin’ but puttin’ the twit out o’ his misery so’s I ain’t gotta split the take three ways. If ‘you’ don’t start watchin’ yer mouth, I’m more’n willin’ ta do the same fer ya.”
Theodore. What an uncouth knave. Were this run’s payouts not so promising I’d have never agreed to work with him. Wait, did he just say he was going to put some poor fool out of his misery? We were the only three on this run… Gah! That bloody troll aims to kill me! ME! Why, I’ll show this troll what-for, upon realizing the troll’s intentions, Johnny limps into the doorway, pausing to lean against it and put on a show of relaxation as he straightens his hat and tie.
“Johnny! You’re awake, thank God. When you blacked out and your nose was bleeding I thought you weren’t gonna make it,” says Mary as she sits slumped in the corner nursing her wounds and fondling her AK-97 rifle.
“Never fear, lover, it takes a good deal more to stop me than a trifle such as mana-burn… or a pretentious, traitorous troll,” Johnny declares, his eyes piercing Teddy the Troll. “Tell me, Teddy, how exactly you thought you would manage to ‘put me out of my misery’?” Johnny asks, his voice rising to an annoyingly high pitch.
“Well twit, it looks li…” Teddy’s reply is cut short by the bolt of lightning that strikes him in the chest.
“Idiotic oaf. When you intend to kill someone you should do it, and then talk of it later if you must,” Johnny states as he begins limping towards the Maiden Mary. “Love, have we delivered the goods yet?”
“No, we’re supposed to meet the Johnson a couple blocks from here, OH SHIT!” Mary yells scrambling for the hole in the wall closest to her.
Johnny turns to find Teddy standing up, gripping his axe in one hand and his Ingram White Knight in the other.
“Oh dear… ummm, Teddy, have you ever seen a magician pull a rabbit from his hat?” Johnny stammers, clutching his hat, at the sight of the still smoking eight-and-a-half-foot troll in front of him.
“Gonna kill ya, ya damned twit!” Teddy roars as he brings the Knight up to fire.
Johnny reaches into his hat, far deeper that he should be able to, and pulls, tilting the hat towards Teddy, “Here you are Teddy, a cute fuzzy Wabbit!” he yells. From the hat springs a ten-foot tall rabbit, with ears longer than a man’s arm, claws longer than its ears, and teeth longer than its claws. Teddy opens fire, his rounds absorbed in a mass of fluffy white and brown fur, the sound of the gunfire drowned out by the rabbit’s roaring. Johnny ducks and scuttles for the shadows, pulling the light from the room into his fist and draping the room in darkness.
“Did ya forget trolls can see inna dark, twit?” Teddy taunts.
“Did you forget rabbits have amazing hearing, imbecile?” Johnny replies as the rabbit roars and the entire building shakes as it lands somewhere near where Teddy’s voice had come from. “And my name is Jonathan Miguel Sanchez Vila-Lobos Ramirez Marleon! You insufferable ass! Now be a good troll and die already!” he says in response to the storm of troll screams and rabbit roars coming from that area.
Johnny joins Mary near the cargo hauler full of stolen weapons with the cacophony of troll and rabbit mayhem still echoing through the block.
“Dearest, can you operate this behemoth machine?” he asks.
“Sure sugah, I can drive it,” Mary replies.
“Then let me get the door for you and let us leave here. We have a Mr. Johnson to see about selling these weapons.”
“Why you wanna get the door?” Mary asks.
“Because, lovely, I am a gentleman and a magician…”
TWO BLOCKS DOWN
“Where’s Teddy?” asks the buyer.
“Oh, something about the job is eating him. We are here to deliver your goods. You’re paying in cash, correct?” Johnny replies, giving Mary a wink.
“Sure, whatever. Here,” the Johnson says as he hands over a briefcase full of platinum credsticks.
As the Johnson drives away in the cargo hauler Mary takes Johnny’s arm and says, “Well sugah, gonna take me shopping?”
“Of course my dear, but first we need a hotel room with good, strong beds and ample room service. I’ve still got a few tricks to show you,” Johnny replies with a wink and a grin.
“Promises, promises Mr. Magician mine,” Mary says leaning her head on his shoulder as they walk on down the street into the heart of Denver.
TIME AND CREDIT PASSES
One month later, Johnny wakes in the luxurious 20,000 yen a night room he and Mary had been sharing to find her gone.
“Ah well. It was fun while it lasted lover,” he says to the night skies of Denver from the balcony, as he reminisces about her six-foot form in his bed. “Hmmmm, I’m broke, single, and I still don’t know where the good whorehouses are in this town. Time to fix that,” he states with a fresh grin as he puts on his new tux and top hat, grabs his cape and cane, and leaves via the back stairway. He slips out without paying the 200,000 yen bill they had racked up after their credit had gone dry. Basic concept: Grew up obsessed with stage magicians, the showmanship, the fame, the mystery. Small fella, a prima-donna and artiste, who sees the world-- and runs-- as his stage.
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Banished? Banished?! Bah! Be merciful and say Death!... Exile hath more terror in his look, much more than Death... Shakespeare
and this is hilarious http://xkcd.com/393/
Last edited by Magical2099 on Thu Jul 01, 2010 8:44 am, edited 4 times in total.
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