Sorry to learn of your familial situation. 

I've a family BBQ tonight but I'll attempt a post for the characters I control as well. I'm pleased that this isn't the end.

BOOM!!!

Well, now. If'n we're leavin' then we won't even know nothin' 'bout this little silver screen moment. Grrr.

I'm confused. Did you end it, or is there more? Do we get to see whether a court martial happens?

Me too!

Day 2, Whitefall - Necessity, Rocinante, 11:00 AM PT 

Wyatt lounges in his usual chair at the table watching Stephanie eat the egg and bacon sandwich with a knife and fork that Ma had made for her. He's waited patiently for her to check in with Chloe and now he's anticipating her telling of the meeting with Petrie.

“So, I knew that there would be little chance that I would be able to talk to Petrie," the doctor politely starts in on her tale. "But I thought if I could get a quick word into his ear, he might meet us somewhere or at least be open to communication. This is really quite lovely, Trish – Thank you very much."

Ma nods her appreciation and makes a rolling hand gesture of “keep going.” For his part, Wyatt can't help but feel a little frustration. Stephanie had gone off and worked a plan without including him in her planning and he doesn't care to be left in the dark on matters such as these.

“So," Stephanie continues, "when I reached Petrie and got hold of him, I realized he was injured. So I came up with a plan quickly to use that as a cover…"

“How? How did you know?” Sam asks, but Sung isn't concerned with these particular details. He's starting to realize that opportunity presented itself and that maybe this hadn't been something their doctor had premeditated.

“Oh. Umm...” Stephanie stares blankly at Sam for a few seconds and says, “The stoop of his back and the way he was sitting revealed he was in pain and bracing himself. When I touched his arm, I could see the seepage of his wounds through bandages. As a doctor, you sorta notice these things and make deductions based on that.” She explains in a rather dismissive tone, almost as if she thought you wouldn’t believe her. “Anyway, there was this time on my last ship when one of the captain's ex-girlfriends had us at gunpoint and threatening the ship, so I used my hypo-spray to tranquilize her. In this case, I slipped a Fentanopryl patch into my hand and applied it to Petrie’s arm. It worked instantly and he went down so I could intercede as a doctor.”

“You drugged him?” Asher asks incredulously.

“Yes.” She looks perplexed, “Really it is difficult to tell a story without my motives and techniques being questioned every few minutes.”

"All right, y'all pipe down so Miss Stephanie can get through her story," Wyatt quietly orders and then addresses the doctor again. "Go on."

”Very well,” She said with a hand wave, “So I knocked him out, made it look like an emergency and I needed to assist him alone. I was afraid that the doctor in town might be on the payroll of Patience and I would have to deal with him or her as well, but luckily he wasn’t and for the exchange of a dermal mender that I have extras of anyway, we came to an accord.  Really, the Alliance should do something about that. These outer planet doctors are supposed to be part of the same medical board and societies as the core planets and they need decent equipment. I will have to bring that up at the next board meeting. The cost of a basic operation set is nothing compared to the...”

Wyatt clears his throat pointedly.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. So once I had Petrie alone we talked. He does love Chloe and he hates this place and his father and wishes to run away. Unfortunately, he is scared of his father, Patience and the great unknown of the ‘Verse. However, I gave him my ear-mike so he can communicate with us discretely and we can arrange for him to meet us when we – what do you call it? – make the drop tonight?  Do the Job? Lift the goods? Really, they say we doctors use confusing jargon. When we assemble our new client and leave this planet?”

"And we can trust him?" Captain Sung asks flatly. "I could see someone settin' this up as a ruse t' ambush wouldbe interferers."

“I have been a doctor for many years. I have had people tell me their Mistresses are their wife or their daughter. I have had many lies spun around me addressing the moral situation when all I care about is the injury. I know when someone is lying to me and Petrie wasn’t. He is scared. He is terrified of making a move against his father. He is even more scared of Patience. But he does love Chloe and does want to do right by her. Whatever that may be in the end.”

Sung considers her response in silence and then simply nods, slaps his hands to his knees, and rises from his chair. "Then we best figure out a way t' smuggle the boy aboard. 

"Wolf, can you rig a container to fit the boy comfortably enough? Maybe somethin' tha' has a false top so as t' throw off the nosey? Ma, can you make one of the smugglin' holds comfy enough t' pass some time in 'til we're far enough away from this dirtball t' let 'im out?

"Asher, help Wolf," Wyatt looks around at the crew. "Not a word o' this t' Chloe, so no speakin' of our soon-t'-be passenger anywhere near her, er others fer that matter."

Day 2, Whitefall – The Warehouse outside of Necessity, 9:00 PM PT

The Spaceport is due north of Necessity as is Eagle-eye’s ranch. The East is the stockyards where the cattle are displayed, traded, and sold. Due south is “the Warehouse.” The Warehouse is a building built back in the day when Whitefall was being terraformed. It is where all of the heavy equipment went to stay dry and contained during the rainy part of terraforming. It is a huge building, all metal frame with the foundation driven 10 feet deep into the ground. The roof is industrial steel about 100 feet above and the bay doors to the place are big enough to let Rocinante in and have room for two friends.

The Warehouse is set up like a carnival. There are all sorts of food vendors, drink vendors, and those carnival type games like knock over the milk cans and ring the bottle. There are jugglers, magicians, and clowns. Some storage crates have been brought in for businesses to open up little shops selling clothing and trinkets. The Honeydew even has a double storage crate set up for...express service. The air smells of popcorn, grease, and smoked meats. The “Main” bet placement area is surprisingly non-busy with only one name down to fight Black Bart at the moment – Dawes man – Jacob.

The main ring is the highlight of the event, set up on a platform so it is above the main ground but not high enough that people can not see the fight. Lights set up to illuminate it well, and screens going up so those who can’t get close can see the battle. It has a large open area around it for the crowd to gather and then in the four corners of the Warehouse, there are smaller rings set up for other side fights for the hands that don’t want to fight Bart. The betting on these fights seems less “controlled” with many different bookies available with mostly similar odds.

It is very busy and there seems to be more people coming from all around.

“You want me to put you on the board?” Eagle asks Wolf, “Or do you want to hold off and do the surprise challenge thing. Up to you. If you go up now, people gonna be curious, wanna check you out – including Patience.”

Wyatt looks askance of his mechanic. He's not keen on Wolf getting his face smashed just before they take on cargo and risk (at that), but he also doesn't care to interfere with his crew's personal lives... at least most of the time. In this case, however, Eagle's commentary sparks an immediate response from the captain.

"Don't put 'is name on the board," Captain Sung intercedes. "I want no reason fer Patience t' be any more curious 'bout anyone of us than she already is."

Outside the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 2:03 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“And I went the opposite direction,” Echo adds after Fixer reports his uneventful stroll. “There’s a side entrance to the building down that alley. It’s kinda tucked back into this alcove and I think there’s some sort of security camera there, but that’s not really my specialty. There’s a fire escape above the door though, and that might be promising.”

“There’s a number of public hotspots available and I’ve found external IPs for net service,” Blossom explains what she has been doing while the others were searching the building’s parameter. “The IPs are all ghosted, so I can’t tell which belongs to which entity, and I don’t imagine any of them are hooked up to their intranets. I was able to discover a heavy datafeed, and I mean heavy. Were I to guess, I’d say that it belongs to a security entity and a powerhouse one at that. Probably a couple of wardrivers on staff to man constructs and digital defenses for whatever company they work for.”

“Long and short of it, folks,” Vegas adds with raised eyebrows, “we’re gonna have to get inside just as we had thought. Ideas on how we do that? Way I see it is that we’ve gotta break into the street level and deal with whatever security they have there, then work our way to the eighth floor and do it all over again.”

“Other businesses within this complex are…” Blossom pauses while her deck brings up the data within her optic splice. “...on the street level; sporting goods, hobby—um, leatherworking—fuel cell retailer, costume store, cosmetic surgery, dentistry, a pharmacy, a steakhouse, a law office, a coffee shop, and a psychic.

“The eighth floor has Upstairs Downstairs, a theater, a kitchen and bathroom display room, a vet, a VR arcade, a consignment shop, a female clothing retailer, a smoke shop, and a laundromat.”

"Ok, so we go in. As expected. What about that fire escape? Was it covered by the camera inside the door, if that's what it was?" Fixer pauses to allow his thoughts to formulate for a few moments. "We just don't know much right now. Once we go in a door, we don't know what we will find. What we could use is a diversion of some sort. It might allow us to get a better look at what is inside or distract people while we get all the way in."

Staring directly at the building, Vegas chews on the inside of his cheek considering their options. “Is that fuel cell retailer open, by chance, love?”

Blossom freezes as she accesses the Web again. Waiting impatiently on the information, Vegas tries to keep from holding his breath. This run is proving to be difficult at best and he can certainly use a break, especially as a leader in this fractured company.

“No bueno,” the Asian woman shakes her head causing her wet platinum tresses to roll about on her jacket shoulders.

“Damn!” Vegas drops his gaze to the pavement underfoot and rubs the back of his neck just below his hairline. “Okay, so it’s like Fixer says; our best bet is that fire escape.

“Echo, what’s the best approach so we can get a look?”

“From the other side,” the nomad woman quickly states. “If we go down the alley from this side, we have to cross in front of the entrance and if that’s a camera in there…” she shrugs.

“Right,” Vegas nods. “Then we have a little walk ahead of us. Unless there’s any objections, that is.”

(OOC: Assuming no objections&hellip

Sloshing through the rain, the group of edgers proceed in the direction Fixer and Casino had originally gone. The hour of the day has reduced human traffic a little, but not much, and street traffic (both on the ground and overhead) is barely impacted. Their new course, however, is unobstructed and they soon find themselves standing in front of the alley entrance.

Vegas holds the team up with an outstretched hand while he assesses the path ahead but seeing nothing alarming he abruptly decides to continue. A couple of minutes later and they are standing just outside of the opening to the alcove beneath the fire escape some three body-lengths overhead.

“What do you think?” the crooner poses to his companions while staring into the misty rain at the metal platform above them. “Looks like it could go all the way to the eighth floor…”

“The ladder is on the side over the—” Blossom waves her dainty hand towards the bow in the face of the building’s wall wherein sits the door. “—place where the door is. How’re we going to get up there?”

Fishing his agent from his pocket, Vegas intends to reach out to Ghlahn and see how he and Bloodbank are doing. The sniper can’t see down the alley and the solo feels that he should let the pair know where they are in case he wants to relocate. Just as he’s remembering that they still haven’t really shared their agent numbers with each other, he catches sight of the message icon. While keeping one ear open to the discussion concerning gaining access to the platform, he mentally commands the message open and reads through the contents.

“Sh**!” he hisses into the toxic air.

“What?” Blossom reacts with a startled tone.

“Cred Stick Charlie sent a message some time ago and I’m barely seeing it now. Got one from Starlight too. Looks like we may have another team to deal with. Santa thinks we’re moving a bit slow. Dammit!” Looking up to peer upon his companions, the solo continues with the bad news. “Starlight’s message confirms Charlie’s. She’s also pushing that Charlie is on our team and we’re to make good with him. Cred Stick Charlie says he’s procuring vehicles for us and then will be linking up.”

“Ya,” Blossom adds quietly, “he made a request of me to research LEO’s and their schedule to our area just to be sure. Haven’t had time to handle that request yet, though.”

“Just what we need,” Vegas snarls. “Not like we weren’t already painfully aware of the clock we’ve got with the kidnapped kid, but now we’ve got to look over our shoulders for a clean-up crew?

“We’ve gotta wrap this, choombattas,” the well-dressed solo sweeps his eyes over his teammates. “Whatever reservations we’ve had about Charlie’s gotta go. Whatever hang-ups we’ve had about each other’s gotta go. We’ve got two objectives now: stay alive and find that kid before the cleanup crew finds us. That means we’ve gotta work together, keep our heads on a swivel, and be sharp. So, now’s the time to really step up our game. How’re we gonna get our asses up to that office?”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 02:21 AM PST)

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Near the Parking Garage two blocks from the Upstairs Downstairs Inc. Building | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 2:03 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“There ain’t no way we’re gonna let them bring that filth into our communities!”

“No way!” A cacophony of excited voices follow the declaration and the edgers find themselves being pressed into a crowd of rainswept citizens swilling about like water circling the drain.

Standing atop some article that places him head and shoulders above the crowd is a man of caucasian coloring with a shaved head that’s tattooed with various symbols reminiscent of the Nazi movement. Clenched fist held high over his shiny head, optic splices lit up, he sweeps his hand over the crowd and bellows, “We have a right to sleep well, secure in our freedom to defend America!”

“Ya!”

“They can’t take that from us!”

“Down with those towel-headed b*****s!”

“Get ‘em out!”

“Are you gonna let them sit up there to plot their next attack?”

“Hell no!”

“Burn ‘em!”

“We’ll stop ‘em!”

Surging bodies push into the pair of edgerunners, jostling against Bloodbank and Ghlahn without caution. Yelling their anger with energy the crowd quickly enfolds the pair into their midst moving them back the direction they had come.

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 02:19 AM PST)

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Edgerunner Enclave | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 9th, Day 3 (Sunday), 12:05 AM PST

Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)

Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

Waiting for the AV to arrive, Luther kills time by producing his agent once more and going about his work maintaining his business. A countdown display in the peripheral of his left optic keeps him notified of the taxi’s time of arrival. With about a minute remaining until his ride appears, his agent’s call notification lights up… the contact information running in front of his right eye belongs to Starlight.

“Charlie here, what’s up Boss Lady?”

“What’s the 411?” his boss sounds tired but alert.

“Your team is on their way to check out the last known position of the kid and I offered a few things but most of them didn’t want anything to do with my offers, so I sent them on their way. I’ll check in on them after picking up some transportation for them just in case they get lucky, let alone some sleep. The whole thing is a cluster muck. I can’t send feelers out because it’s either going to take too much money or will take weeks to get some information.”

“You’re not with them?” Starlight sounds a little surprised. “You trust that they’ll get this job done without any further mishaps needing your oversight?”

“They don’t need nor want a babysitter, Starlight,” Luther states defensively, picking up on his superior’s sudden change in tone. “I can’t do much overseeing unless they are willing to work with me, Ms Starlight. You left a big vacuum hole after leaving but your boots on the grounds man is doing the best that he can. I have been told by several members of your team that ‘I’m doing too much’ (Blackfolk slang) as they have grown a conscience while edgerunning. To me, they are not combat effective and don’t recognize my role within the team’s food chain. I have offered to assist them with UAV support but when I attempt to establish—”

“Listen, Charlie,” the tiny fixer remarks dryly, interrupting his posturing. “I think Santa may be bringing on another team. It’s been two—going on three—days since the contract was inked and Santa is growing impatient. I want you on-site helping to see this thing through. Understand?”

“Wait…” Cred Stick Charlie balks. “You’re not really adding me to this group, right? I mean, I thought that you wanted someone to replace you temporary ‘til you healed up and—Yeah, I understand the brevity of this… so, how many hours before Santa’s elves come to gift wrap us and place us under the Christmas tree?”

“I don’t know, Charlie,” Starlight answers. “They could already be onto the team, they could be hours off. Doesn’t matter. We finish the contract. So, ya, you’re in Ace Kool with these people until the end.

“Look, here’s the four-one-one,” she continues hurriedly. “I didn’t just select these schmucks at random, Charlie. Spring Heel Jack has given me leave to expand. I need a team to build on our rep. This could be a long-term relationship, savvy? We just need to get everyone working together and I’m relying on you to make that happen. All boats float when the waters rise… see?”

“Fine…” the well-dressed street dealer concedes, “I’ll convince them and if you would be so kind as to send out a group message that everyone’s butt is on the line I’ll get more active with the group as a whole. I’m picking up one vehicle and I’ll hold and operate the vehicle for them, ‘til someone out of that group understands what is at stake besides their lives.

“Starlight, I’m not trying to mess up your street cred or reputation. I’ll do whatever it takes to finish the contract and get the train back on the rails.”

“Good. Now, this business with the Chinese—Ya, I know about it—Jack doesn’t like it,” Starlight is referring to her superior in the organization, Springed-Heel Jack. “He says you’re cutting in on the Tong’s dance partner and they’re likely gonna strike back. How deep are you into this? Can you get out?”

“I needed some resources,” Luther starts to explain, “but your group didn’t want to play ball so I went off the reservation for a bit and I have only just one contact in the corps for resources. Can I ask for a sit down before going toe to toe with the dance partner? I’m not trying to start a Tong war or even a little conflict, I’m just trying to make deals, make profit, and not end up sleeping on the ground like your group.

“As for how deep… ‘get in where you fit in’ (Blackfolk slang) as us Asian folk say. I quickly made a ‘niche’ for myself already because the yoke was already taut and I saw opportunity to open a door with those that are willing to bargain with me.

“As for investments… I’m getting my vehicle fixed and a gal that is a good resource for me as a secretary. I got the better end of the stick and am willing to fight for this one, but if Jack says that I must cut things off then I’ll cut my losses and find a deal… if possible.

“So in short… I could get out of it but I’m willing to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight for these people, if you don’t mind, Starlight. I’ll roll the dice, move my mice, and take some lumps but I think that these people—in the long run—would be good assets and I would like to keep them… please, let me try to work this out.”

“I know you’re churnin’ butter, choomba, but the Tong? C’mon, man,” Starlight contends.

“I’m willing to deal with the Tong rep if you think that Jack is willing to give me time to clean up a mess. Do you think that Spring Hill Jack will give me a shot at this title?” Luther counters. “Hey, I’m willing to do a sit down and work things out before they are broken, all that I’m asking for is some time to sit down with Jack’s permission to clean up this mess and to make a few deal along the way.”

“The quick answer is a simple, no, Charlie,” Starlight responds flatly. “But, I’ll talk with Jack again and see if I can’t persuade him. It’s the frackin’ Tong, Charlie, the frackin’ Tong. This is some high-level sh** so I can’t guarantee anything, you understand?”

“Well,” Charlie presses. “I want to try to cut a deal and trade not giri necessarily, but ‘action’ in the area that I’m working. No percentages, but flat fees, monthly, and I think with what I might be able to offer them, they might want to hear. I don’t have ‘juice’ but I feel that the dynamic for the economy could be changed mutually to the benefit for all, if given the chance to layout my business plan, just sayin…”

“Ya,” Starlight acknowledges. “I feel ya. Look, focus on this gig, keep our interests moving forward, and help keep these edgers alive. I’ll see what I can do for you in regards to this Tong mess. No promises, but we’ll see. Good-bye, Charlie. I’m countin’ on you.”

The click on the other line indicates Starlight is through with the conversation leaving the fixer to immediately act on his new instructions. Mentally calling up his messaging service, Charlie finds Vegas’ contact information and adds him to the message.

Contris: Open

Tag: Open

Goals:

Msg Team Ldr (Vegas) All of our butts are on the line and a clean up team might be coming to all of us if results are not satisfactory to “Santa Clause.” No chance of using an “Escape Clause” due to Elf hirelings that are very effective in wrapping up “gifts.” I’ll be on scene after acquiring transportation to assist with air assets and egress. Starlight wants me in a more active role in this “procurement” so, I looking forward to working more closely together with you on this assignment.

By direction of Ms Starlight,

Mr Charlie

Pulling up the remaining time until his AV-4 taxi arrives, Charlie considers changing the vector of the AV-4 and possibly be dropped off to deliver the shoes and then make the “time hack” for the fuel point to acquire transportation assets. He is growing more and more tired, though.

Returning to his messaging, the fixer pulls up Blossom’s contact and begins constructing a message for her.

Blossom, Charlie—Can you query the response time of LEOs to your area so that I can make preplans for egress if the the balloon goes up, please.

Changing his message recipient again, Charlie sets up instructions for Hui to make calls:

• Yo Suk-Chul, follow-up for some shoes (Passports) so that Charlie can make a stop to drop them off before going to the SF fuel point.


• Fixer Tomás Japón to assist with picking up a vehicle or pick up “shoes” for delivery.


• Fixer Flore "Feathers" Messier to assist with picking up a vehicle or pick up “shoes” for delivery


• Rocker "Kelsey Dawn" to sign for a “Gig” for the battle of the bands at a venue.


• Message “Fluke” three minutes out before landing

And sends them to her. Having accomplished that, the fixer turns his attention to some searches in order to further his business. He’s holding out hope that Starlight can come through for him with Spring Heel Jack—a mysterious man he’s only met once way back when Charlie joined his organization under Starlight—with the Tong, but in the meantime, he has an already approved business he might be able to automate with an identity printer.

Shielding his agent screen from the misting rain, he mentally activates the search feature and types in his search keywords. First, the regular Web, and then if he doesn’t return anything useful, he’ll dive the Dark Web. As the results come flooding back onto his screen, Charlie finds himself staring at price points of 4,000 cr or more.

A couple of minutes later and the air overhead becomes turbulent as the AV-4 slips into position before descending to the street level. The side door slides open and the comfortable passenger bench seat is presented. Unlike AV-4 evac service vehicles, taxi AV’s have the cabin completely closed off to the passengers with bulletproof lining the likes of which can take a .50 caliber round and probably still be sitting pretty. Climbing into the belly of the boxy beast, Charlie checks his agent for a reply from his new secretary.

“Where to?” the pilot asks over the interior comms system as the side door slides shut and the sounds of the city are neatly barricaded outside.

Your friend, Yo Suk-Chuk, does not answer. Hui’s message is front and center on the screen having been prioritized by the AI in the device once Charlie’s thoughts turned to Hui’s instructions again. Maybe because it is after midnight? I’ll try the others. When will you be home?

“Hey!” the AV pilot calls through again. “It’s your dime, buddy. You wanna sit here while the meter is running, I won’t complain none.”

(OOC: March 9th, Day 3 - Sunday, Time is 12:10 AM PST)

FYI - Giddy has taken Bloodbank back over. Still trying to find a new player for Vegas and I'm crossing my fingers that Aletheia hasn't deserted us.

And, I have updated the game. Looking forward to everyone's posts! Again, if you have questions, communicate them to me. If your characters are in proximity, feel free to discuss things on this forum before posting to speed things up a bit. Let's move this forward.

Done!

Summer... It is what it is.

I'd entertain the idea.

Curious, Gib muses as the man he can only assume is the proprietor of the Nicked Shill puts the rising unrest to bed. I had thought Ch'dau's kind unique and where one might call them even happenstance would be closer to the shores. Perhaps this fellow has done some traveling in his day? In the time since he had first become acquainted with the Silver Cat, the priest had grown accustomed to reactions he politely refers to as memorable.He finds himself thusly more surprised by the man coming to the Kazari's defense than the crowd. 

Not allowing the consideration to full his senses, Gib follows his companions to their roost and takes up a position whereupon he can deposit his backpack underfoot and his shield against the table next to him.

 "The stew and a small beer, if you would, please," he states softly to the serving girl though his appraising gaze continues to travel about the chamber.

Most of the patrons return to their business with nary a further concern for the work party still speckled with the grime of their battle and the subsequent road. A few continue their curious inspection even after the two watchmen take their leave.  Checking to make certain the painted emblem of Therassor upon the face of his shield is visible to all behind him, Gib also attempts to surreptitiously pull his holy medallion from the folds of his clothing so that it shines more prominently. He hopes that the symbol of the just god helps further dissuade any ill will towards his Kazari friend. 

Two others at their table have not gone unnoticed by the warrior priest. The man is hard, weathered by experience that Moreno recognizes from his time in the military. Gripping the hilt of his weapon, staring down the only feasible threats within the Nicked Shill, and judging by the scowl on his craggy face; not at all pleased by the proximity of the adventurers. The woman... Beautiful... Gib cannot help but be attracted. She appears curious, well-bred, even... Noble? What could cause such perfect beauty -- wait. There. On her cheek. Is that scarring? Faint though it is, the silvery tendrils are not lost to him. 

Momentarily taking his appreciative eyes from her nearly flawless face, the priest scratches at his beard and shifts in his seat to adjust the way his chainmail is bunching under his thigh, Gib is slightly startled when her unfamiliar voice carries over the din asking about their travels.

As Aranwen answers, Moreno once again turns his attention to her. She is not at all curious about Ch'dau, he realizes, his brow rising a small fraction in response. Sylvari are a regal race, the priest can concede to that. But the woman is in the presence of a being from bard's tales and yet she focuses on Aranwen. Choosing to remain quiet and allow the Syl to continue her conversation, Gib makes his way through his meal barely noticing the  fare as he's doing his best to ascertain all that he can from the pair.

Ch'dau's asking to meet with the keep doesn't surprise the cleric, nor does the interpretation of the conversing pair's intentions by the serving girl. Having yet to see the bladesinger in a situation such as this, the warrior priest finds himself curious as to how things will end as well. What of her bodyguard? Moreno shifts his gaze to assess the other man. Is he as curious as I, or has he seen this behavior before?

Gib almost feels guilty for harboring such thoughts--such accusations. Especially as her conversation turns towards Aranwen's craft. She is well-versed and speaks the woman's native tongue (at least a few words of it). Perhaps she truly is just interested. Cedric's interruption confirms the depth of her focus and Gib almost blushes at how intensely he's scrutinizing her.

 "I find my belly content, my feet in need of relief, and my god deserving of gratitude for his hand in today's events," he states to any who will listen. Pushing back from the table, the priest looks to his arcane brothers-at-arms. "When and where is this meeting taking place?"

Bless you. Gib has grown a beard and mustaches. 

I wholeheartedly agree. 

I don't know about the lot of you but it would be really helpful for me to have a list of all of the characters and a brief description of them.

Gib has no objection to Ch'dau's generosity. We are a company of friends and it will all even out in the end.

Good considerations, all. Gib would happily give most, if not all, of his iron rations as well as up to five silver Falchions. Especially if the party is going to make it to town this evening. 

Recruiting is open again. I have the following characters available:

• Vegas: Frank Sinatra skinjob solo and the defacto leader of the boots on the ground edgerunners (though Starlight's introduction of Cred Stick Charlie means that Vegas now has a direct advisor/partner). He's a lot more mercenary and cold-hearted and is a long-time business partner and friend with Casino, one of the other solos in the group. He's also got a thing for Blossom, the group's netrunner.

I need committed players. If you don't know the game, I'll coach you along. Check out the first page of the Q&A for details. I also use Roll20.net for maps, rolls, character sheets, etc.

While this game is a single run right now, there's the potential for the characters to carry on longterm and have it turn into a full-fledged campaign. Character growth, skill advancement, etc.

Good point, Nomad. I'm sorry that I didn't consider actual player unfamiliarity with potential concepts.

|| DM Question - so, if Fixer is walking along looking for security, is it enough to say that he is doing that (What I did) or do I need to specifically state that he is using his "electronic security" skill?  Did my results change because I didn't name the exact skill? ||

To answer your question, I rolled for Fixer and used his Awareness/Notice skill. I rolled on the roll20.net website (     https/app.roll20.net/join/2514818/e5DHag . The Electronic Security skill would be what Fixer could roll to determine his best-educated guess as to what type of electronic security measures the building may have in place, recognize any that he has seen (model, capabilities, vulnerabilities, etc.). I have not rolled that for the character yet and you are free to do so if that's what you'd like Fixer to do.

Note to all: I really do encourage you to use the skills your character has. If you have any questions, such as what Nomad just did, feel free to ask. I have links to the rule books on the first post of this Q&A thread, but I understand that learning new systems is challenging, so I'm happy to help. Just make a note of what you're rolling for on Roll20 and let me know you've rolled before you post so I can share with you the results of the roll. For example, Nomad wants Fixer to do what I described above. He logs into Roll20.net, opens his Character Sheet in the Journal, clicks on the macro to roll the Electronic Security skill, doesn't add a modifier (because I haven't told him to) and after the result is rolled, he types out a note in the Roll20 Chat letting me know what that roll was for. He then PM's me here to let me know he rolled, shares his result if he wants to (or I can just hit the Roll20 site and check as I will be making my own rolls) and when all is said and done, I share with him what Fixer would know. Nomad can then translate that information into his character's next actions, comments, etc. as he see's fit.

|| To the group:  Those of us not at the parking garage don't necessarily know about the pseudo riot starting there, but it seems like we'd learn of it quickly.  Do those at the garage have a walkie talkie?  We did make those earlier.  Is the riot something we can channel and take advantage of?  What are the odds that those "people upstairs" are in the building we want to get in?  Would encouraging the riot be a distraction or call more security to the area and cause more problems? ||

We appear to be a pretty quiet group with very little back-and-forth on the Q&A thread to resolve certain things before posting. I strongly suggest that we use this thread much in the same way as out of character conversation would take place around a table. Discuss plans, work through details, collaborate and ask me questions and then post. I'll let you know how long off-screen conversations would take, etc. or just modify things appropriately when I pull all of the posts together. 

As Aletheia hasn't responded to my emails or PMs of late, I'm going to just assume that she's swamped still. It is a pathetic hope that we haven't lost another player and I may have to eventually call "time of death" but for now, I'll keep my fingers crossed. As such, Echo most definitely will have shared her finding of the fire escape in her report. It's about 20' up with its lowest ladder being able to drop to ground level with a release accessible on the platform above. The platform itself extends beyond the immediate view of what she assumes is the camera system inside the doorway, and the doorway sits in an alcove limiting the view of the alley to about 35 degrees. The area where the ladder would descend is still in the view of the camera, but the far side of the platform is not (the side that's 20' overhead).

Ghlahn still has his walkie talkie, yes. The pseudo riot is two blocks away and if it does continue to grow, the party at the office building would most definitely become privy to it, but for now, you lot are still blissfully unaware. I have provided Keeper with information to assist him with his next post. Any and all of you would also be aware that riots of any size are dealt with either by the local police (cautious of public backlash) or the corporate security forces (who don't care about public backlash as much seeing how the PR department's job is to spin the hell out of the story). This particular part of the Integrate would have decent response times. It isn't Undercity so they will pay attention but it isn't Highcity either, so they won't be there within a couple of minutes.

Scratching at his beard, Gib considers the situation while keeping an open ear to his companions' opinions. He doesn't disagree with Ch'dau but he also doesn't expect everyone to be a warrior, or even have a fighting spirit. There are sheep and there are sheepdogs, he muses. However, Aranwen reports that the pilgrims are intent on still achieving their shrine and the party not being welcome within the hallowed grounds of the destination should they reach it at all—while something the priest understands—is a deterrent. Kith is right as well. These pilgrims are practically already dead. As much as the cleric hates to admit it, he has been privy to hard decisions made by military commanders relating to situations where personnel have to be sacrificed for the greater good of the objective. Inevitably, those same commanders seek spiritual relief through confession but the decisions are made, nonetheless.

Suppressing the urge to wince as pain shoots through his ribs and the muscles of his back as he shifts the weight of his shield, Moreno chimes in, "I concur. They are intent on foregoing the safety of Crandel and continuing a potentially harrying journey while possibly being beset nightly by foul creatures... so be it. The road we have traveled was bereft of such inconveniences as this unearthly fog, so there's a chance that they'll be safe enough. 

"I agree with Ch'dau," Moreno "Gib" Enderedre offers a resigned smile. "We should continue on to Crandel and ensure our arcane brothers make their meet. And, we should do so with haste so as not to invite another press from our new-found enemies. I'll already be feeling this battle for the better part of a week, Therassor be praised."

I was going to have Gib wait until everyone else had a chance to speak, but in light of the new information and Gib being all about duty, he would side with continuing on to Crandel. After all, the Lysoran pilgrims are basically turning down the party's assistance. 

I have made assumptions that the party would group up after their separate actions as well to hold a conference, and under this assumption, I've written a new post.

"I realize that these past days have been stale, but, perhaps, in the future, we might at least strategize a little before rushing into battle. Like we did when bringing justice to those bandits? That would be most appreciated." The warrior priest attempts to soften his reproach by offering a soft smile and raising his eyebrows.

Ch'dau now moving about more and more, answers, “Quite. My apologies, friend Gib. I should have known better.”

Aranwen's face takes on a more serious look, "I am sorry, my friend. But there was no time to discuss tactics in this situation!" She points to the three fallen pilgrims near them "As it was, I was not fast enough to save THEM. How many more would lie dead if we had delayed when the time came for action?" The serious look on her face softens as Aranwen sighs and says, "But you are right, rushing headlong into danger could have gotten one of us killed. We were lucky to have escaped relatively unscathed."

"We were, indeed," the dark-haired and bearded priest looks solemnly upon the dead Lysorans. "They made no indication that the enemy was upon them, Aranwen. Do not take blame away from the attackers by laying claim to that which you have no right. You fought well, Praise Therassor, as did you, Ch'dau, and you, Kith. The blood of these who have fallen this day does not belong to us.

"Come," he drops a gloved hand to the bladesinger's shoulder, "let us at least see what further aid we might be able to offer these good people of Ertain."

Gib is relieved to find the leader of the pilgrims alive if staggering with what the priest suspects is at least a couple of broken ribs instead of among the dead or more severely wounded—several of his companions bear deep gouges in their flesh, thanks to the claws of the giggling monstrosity, and three more lie dead. Only a half dozen pilgrims still live... if one could call their half-starved, shambling existence "life".

 "How far is it to your destination," the cleric of Therassor asks, choosing to ignore the stench wafting on in the heavy air, "and will you truly be safe there?"  

The bearded pilgrim shakes his head, "The Shrine is perhaps three days' journey from here. Will we be safe? Only the gods can say. This is good country, the roads under King Jarom's rule have always been safe. But in these times? Who can say? The road ahead must be safer than the road behind us. All we can do is have faith... and keep moving."

The fixed gazes of the three bodies on the ground stare into the dusky sky and mock the simplicity of the holy man's words. Addressing the pilgrim leader, Aranwen asks, "How long has it been since these fiends first started attacking? Have you any idea where they may have come from or what could have provoked these attacks? Perhaps something strange occurred just before the attacks started?"

The bearded man blinks three times, his gaze unfocused. He takes so long to answer that the bladesinger begins to worry he has perhaps lost conciousness, yet somehow remained on his feet. But answer he does, in a choked voice, "We have endured this for four nights, now. Once, twice a night. They come, they kill, they take." A sob escapes his gaunt frame.  

"What provoked this, I cannot say. We had hoped that reaching Crandel would end this, but it seems as bad here as it did on the road to the west."

The pilgrim leader is shaking with emotion. "We are simple folk!  We seek only to honor the Blue Lady! We have harmed no one, taken nothing, done nothing unsuual at all! We stick to the road, camp at night, eat the food we brought with us. Why would these monsters trouble our path?"

Another sob escapes him, "You will excuse us now, please. We thank you for your aid, truly. But we must pray over our fallen and, Lysora forgive us, we must leave them. We have not the strength to dig holes or gather stones and have learned the cruelty of or enemy—if we tarry to dig, we may as well lie down in the holes with them, for our doom is sealed. We will not survive another attack. Our only chance is to get as close to the Shrine as we can, and hope that their attention is diverted for long enough for us to escape their notice."

He moves away from the party and the surviving pilgrims join him to pray over their dead comrades. Gib looks sideways at Aranwen before motioning the others to gather about. 

"They are intent on continuing to their shrine, three days hence," Gib states, turning his body so that he might still keep an eye on their surroundings whilst communicating with his fellows.

Cedric asks, "Is anyone hurt that could use the ministrations of a cleric?"

"There are a few that I bound wounds for and some with deeper bodily injuries," the priest of Therassor skims the horizon with sharp eyes. "If you feel it appropriate to call upon Solanis' gifts for such a thing, I'll not attempt to stop you."

Cedric is horrified at the carnage and calls on the Solanis to steady himself, "Was anyone taken by the creatures? I think these people need our help."

"Not that was reported," again the warrior priest answers, "and these pilgrims most assuredly need assistance." He is cautious in offering up anything further allowing, instead, the others in the party to speak their mind. He'll offer his counsel and let Aranwen decide for them, such is the chain of command.

“Let them help themselves,” Ch’dau rumbles, the repressed growl tinging his words as he swipes a paw dismissively in the direction of the disheveled group of priests, “They haven’t the courage or honor to bury their own dead and they flee from battle like scared rabbits! Even if we were to escort them, should another attack come, they’d likely skitter right into the jaws of their doom!”

The Kazari’s growling rises along with his irritation and, in that instant, very nearly escapes from behind his pointed teeth… but not quite… Instead, it comes out as yet another derisive snort as the big cat’s eyes tear away from the sobbing adherents of the Blue Lady.

“Besides,” he adds, trying to tamp down his frustration as he gestures in the direction of the party’s mages, “Atharis and the little one are expected in Crandel by their order… In hours, not days… That is where our duty lies.”

"These men will die without blades to protect them," Kithran notes, her voice flat. The words hold no disgust or worry; rather, she states it as fact. "They have already died."

She replaces her daggers in their sheaths and folds her arms across her chest, her eyes slowly sliding over each of her companions before cutting in the direction of Ch'dau. "There will be guilt if we allow them to leave without protection."

"You are all correct," Gib states quietly, eyes still scanning their surroundings. "Lives are at stake, but something the pilgrim said bothers me. He said that he had hoped that reaching Crandel would offer refuge, but that this road is the same as to the West. They travel the same road as we, yet in the opposite direction which leads me to believe they have already come from Crandel." Glancing at Ch'dau, Gib continues, "Atharis and Midge have an appointment with members of their order in Crandel; this too is true. If these refugees have come from Crandel because of a lack of safety, I would surmise that the town has fallen prey to similar attacks which would mean that either we are too late to participate in the battle, or that the battle is ongoing."

Looking back towards the prayerful followers of the Blue Lady, Gib continues his wordy conclusion, "There are but a few lives here, and these people are intent on achieving a shrine three days off still with the omission that they are attacked one, maybe twice, a night. In Crandel, there are many, many more lives and if they are fending off attacks of a similar nature, we are better serving the Kingdom by continuing on to the village and helping to save lives there."

Now focusing on Aranwen, the warrior priest offers his advice, "I propose we see if these pilgrims can offer us any insight into the state of affairs in Crandel. Should the people of there be fighting for their lives, I would suggest we make haste and join them. If these poor sods are what remains of the village—" Gib grabs the holy symbol dangling about his neck and kisses it, "—then we know that these are the lives we should attempt to save."

Bravo!!! Applause for the posts we have and anticipation for the ones to come. 

Gib's intent is to not call upon Therassor for any healing magic except should it be necessary to save a life. So, with the minor wounds, he's not going to cast healing unless we all agree that it is necessary. He's a stoic individual, so he's not going to call upon Therassor to heal himself either. He will attempt to use his Healing proficiency to tend to any wounds in lu of healing magic (this is for companions and Lysorans alike). As he's moving amongst the Lysorans, he'll attempt to glean from them who is in charge (if the bearded fellow from before is dead). While he's doing this, he'll be very alert. Turning the zombies does not mean killing them and they are usually created to follow single commands to his knowledge. So, being sent to kill the pilgrims means that they will return once the turning wears off, and he still isn't sure about that cackling thing!

Breathing heavily from both the effort and the pain inflicted upon him, Gib's gaze rolls across the field assessing the situation and determining that the enemy has been defeated or forced into retreat. How many zombies were sent scurrying? he wonders, concerned about their return as he attempts to determine what damage has been done that he might treat or implore the Mighty General for a miracle of healing upon. Wiping the ichor from the battle off his blade onto the wet grasses, he uses his cloak to then dry the weapon before sheathing it.

"Keep an eye out for any that might think better of their retreat and return for more, if you will," Gib calls to Midge and Atharis.

His fellows are well enough despite the great cat's inability to move. Some small injuries, it would seem, but the priest is leary nonetheless. He is well aware that some undead can cause disease with a touch or inflict curses and other maladies, so his concern isn't complete abated yet.

Gib makes his way back to where he dropped his pack and winces as he scoops it by a strap to return to his shoulder. I will definitely have to ask Cedric to look at that and see if it is just bruising or if there is more to concern myself with. Turning his attention to the Lysorans, Gib moves among them applying what aid he can. Reading the Rites of the Dead is the purview of the shepherds for this flock, unless there are none remaining alive. If that's the case, the warrior priest feels such rites better left to his counterpart as there was no battle given by these poor pilgrims and they would not find a place within Therassor's Halls even if Gib performed the rite.

Once he has finished assisting what Lysorans that he can, Gib turns his attention to his friends. If Cedric has not yet done so, the cleric moves to inspect Kith, Ch'dau, and Aranwen.

"I realize that these past days have been stale," he begins as he approaches his warrior friends, "but, perhaps, in the future, we might at least strategize a little before rushing into battle. Like we did when bringing justice to those bandits? That would be most appreciated."

Gib has found that it is best not tread upon warrior's pride when chastising them. 

"Now," the cleric clips once he finishes inspecting his companion's wounds and focuses on the last remaining Lysorans. "How far is it to your destination and will you truly be safe there?"

Would we as well? Rest is going to be needed sooner rather than later, he wonders.