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It's 12 days till the auction.

People are arriving early in droves, and it's clogging up port usage and the like already.

There is a Brotherhood 'temple' in the station. It's a small common leaving pod attached to the station. It has a total of only 7 rooms:

two main rooms:

a the common room, there is no gravity unless you make a hand sign, and all sound but the emergency com dose not carry more than a few feet. Used mainly for meditation and sleep

secondary room, used for conversation, training, and well sex... just anything disturbing to people in the common room tring to rest.

and a few smaller ones:
Food preparation room
Dinning room
Room for hygiene needs
Room for spiritual cleansing, steam room ... small and weak artificial node (can't drain)
High intensity training chamber (one person at a time)

Huoshui is explained the use of the chamber before most of his clothing is removed and he instructed through a few stretches to preform before hand.

The inside of the training chamber is about 10 yards wide seams to be the inside of a near perfect sphere with black shiny walls and a flat floor to practice on. Once in the center of the room the camber activates as the partial sphere closes up and parts of the wall illuminate.

<USER: HUOSHUI ZUIGUAN RECOGNIZED>

<INSINUATING SEQUENCE 1>

There is a low hum and the lights about the chamber start to shift, almost imitatively Huoshui is meet with a shift in gravity as it increases almost to 3Gs. As he goes through the movements of his training redjement the gravity shifts not just lowering and increasing forcing his mussels to adjust, but even detection requiring him to move along the dome of the sphere to keep his footing.

The strain on the body is intense and after half hour he finds himself starting to tire and grow weak.

(you should rp this part out the following will interrupt your rp as you tire out... just work it into your post)

<SEQUENCE 1 COMPLEATE>

<STARTING SEQUENCE 2>

At that point the machine hums to life and Huoshui can feel his chi being drawn out of him in every direction... for 5 grouling and painfully minutes it drains every drop of chi from him before as equally unpleasantly forcing it back into him for 5 more minutes.

---

Sequence 2 will require 3 willpower rolls diff 8 to continue, one for each 10 minute round he's able to endure.

---

Huoshui passes over the majority of his clothing, listening closely to the instructions.

Huoshui steps into the chamber.

<Sequence 1>

Huoshui starts a slow and staggered series of strikes into the air. Increasing in speed gradually. The strikes becoming more fierce and sudden. Even when he is in a stance he is swaying. Just as he goes to make another strike...

<Sequence 2>

...his fist falls from the strike and is replaced by a head butt. Feeling drained, his movement slows to a crawl. Painfully tries to keep up the kata.


After 30 minutes of intense training he exits the chamber, picking up his belongings and getting back into his clothing.
This message was last edited by the player at 09:59, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

<SEQUENCE 2 COMPLEATE>

The computer chimes once Huoshui's energy has been drained and feed back into him 3 times.

<SEQUENCE 3 REQUIRES ADMIN PERMISSION, ENDING PROGRAM>

Huoshui feels more exhausted physically than he has ever felt before in his life, and two of his comrades help him out to sit down handing him some water. "Rather impressive not many people can stand a whole hour in there"

Mentally though his mind has never felt sharper, his spirit reinvegaured to new heights...

---

Huoshi gains 5 quentessence and +1 dice to all mental and (once recovered) physical actions for the rest of the day.

---

This message was last edited by the GM at 10:26, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

Peter's eyelids slowly flutter open.  The station bustles with activity around him.  An eclectic mixture of tourists, suits and the filthy rich mingle in the station's ample commons.  He watches them from the cafe window, a doctor's bag on his right side, a toolbox on his left, with himself set squarely between them.

Absentmindedly he flexes the fingers of his left hand, acclimating his brain to synthetic neural fibers in lieu of his ruined nervous system.  Pain receptors still fire randomly, an anomalous sensation of a phantom body overlaying the new, synthetic self grafted to his brain and spine.

The tip he gives the waitress is lousy.  That's probably why she stopped topping off his coffee.  He doesn't have to check his virtual wallet to know he's almost below a thousand credits now.  Peter's debts weigh so heavily on his shoulders as to crush him; enough that, were  they in single credit chips, it could literally do so.

Boredly he rechecks his day's itinerary:

Locate clients

He'd put the word out as best he could.  He had to be careful -- although he was a master surgeon and technician he still lacked the appropriate credentials.  This whole "street doc" thing was very new to him.

Schedule a meeting with a representative of the local chapter of Etherites

Although the SoE had granted him probationary membership they were mutually reluctant to accept one another.  Surely any task given to him at this juncture would be on a volunteer basis and well below his station.  He pictures himself stuck in some lab poring over a mad scientist's handwritten notes, an unscientific fantasy resting somewhere between Jules Verne and the Power Rangers.  Peter shudders at the thought.

Visit local chapter of the Akashic Brotherhood

Peter had crossed this one out and added it back a dozen times or more.  Since waking up from a medically induced coma on Victoria Station his feelings on the topic have been mixed.  Enemies now abound within his beloved ex-Tradition.  That he survived at all is likely a point of great frustration among the Ten Fists and their allies.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:48, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

Soltan dropped off his prisoner at the station..The man tied up and beaten to submission had no will left to fight.  One his eyes was swollen shut and dried blood covered his face.

Soltan, holding the man by a leash kick him into a cell and returned to the desk to fill out the proper paper work.

Soltan wore his full armor and weapons, his ugle face drawing looks that he ignored.
Signing his name on the dotted line he returned the EMP weapon he had used to captuer the man.

Stoping at the desk Soltan spoke, a dark cold, emotionless voice..

"Whats rules on carrying fire arms, and if it is illegle can I get the paper work to fill out to be come a bonded bounty hunter or dective to carry weapons"..


 Soltan was in debt, a hugh debt and only knew one way to make money..Find, capture and sometimes kill...
This message was last edited by the player at 20:55, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

Dr. Cictrix can dose have one message work related from a man named Flavian wishing to meet him in a rather run down bar on level that is mostly maintenance tunnels and small crappy shops, they must be hoping to get some work from people forced to use them to get to the rest of the station from the maintenance docks or from the stations lower class workers.

Peter rises wearily from his seat.  With his bags in tow he weaves through the crowd, an unlit cigarette bobbing between his dry lips, descending into the darker, crappier depths of Victoria Station.

I'll be there, he replies.

The doctor avoids eye contact with the bar's patrons, though he glances about for his potential client.  Somewhere in the back of his brain he maintains a reserve of aggression should this prove to be another robbery attempt.  He'd been meaning to test out the combat capabilities of his new implants anyway.  The lighter flicks to life under his thumb and fades just as quickly.

The man told you to meet him at a table in the back corner.

The guy there twitches actionaly and can't stop fiddling with... well anything. twittling on the table, eyes darting about quite a bit. He appears to have some heavy heavy brain argumentation with a good bit of steel sticking out of the side of his head, looks like he has a few ports full of various simiorganic drives... Oddly they seam to be drives destined to flash burn / eject on command, not something you see in external neural drives usaly.


He seams to recognize you though when he sees you and waves you over with motions to hurry.

After having rested just outside the chamber, Houshui stands up and thanks the staff/attendants. He then asks which way to the closest bar. Having been pointed towards it, he sets off.

Entering the bar dressed in what seem to be simple ragged clothes, carrying a large sack on his back. He asks at the bar "Can I get a top up?" holding up his one of his flasks and shaking it to show that it is empty.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:30, Tue 27 Sept 2011.

Peter walks purposefully over to Flavius, giving the tweaked out cyborg a subtle visual assessment before occupying the seat across from him.

"Mr. F, I presume?  You look... overclocked, my friend.  What can the good doctor do for you?" he asks.

17:36, Today: Dr. Peter Cicatrix rolled 2 successes using 8d10 with the World of Darkness 2nd ed, Specialised system with a target of 6 with rolls of 5,2,3,10(+5),1,5,8,6. Per + Tech: Flavius's Hardware.

He shakes his head "No names.... I got that cold hearted fish bitch breathing down my neck...." He looks around, the way his iris shifts you can tell he has an implant and it's scanning. "I'll make this quick, you willing to work with ... off market Iron and splat.... possibly even in rotten meat?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 21:55, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

Street talk and street rules.  They confuse him.

He doesn't like where this is going.  In his mind's eye red numbers go flying by, seven-digit red numbers.  What was this month's payment, sixty thousand?

"Right.  Sorry.  Sir, are we analyzing a previously living, now dead specimen?  Or did you have something more exotic in mind?"
This message was last edited by the player at 22:09, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

He talks much more quietly shaking his head. "Damm trogs... You got the spice to weave iron into a leach, or least fix whats already there?"

It really is like speaking two different languages.

"Yes," he guesses.

Probably.

"Where?  When?  More importantly, what is it worth to you?" he asks, lowering his voice to match Flavius's hushed tone.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:22, Mon 26 Sept 2011.

He seams a little shocked but quickly becomes exsighted, perhaps a little to much so. "oh oh if you can keep the iron from being healed out? Quite a lot, quite a lot...." He quickly becomes paranoid again then and looks around "in an hour good?"

Or not.

"Wait, what?  'Heal out again?'  Trog, leech... what kind of beast are we talking about here?" he asks, somewhat perplexed.
This message was last edited by the player at 01:37, Tue 27 Sept 2011.

He groans some and shakes his head "godz what a twip...." he sighs some "listen if you got the spice to pull this off go to warehouse H in the sub level here in an hour or so you can take a spy and the meat your cutting and figure for yourself if your cool with it or not... if a compleat spaz there just wipe your memory anyway so might as well check it out if you think you can handle it."

He gets up walking away seaming rather aggravated he pokes some buttons on the side of his head and one of the small drives shots out of his head bouncing across the floor smoking... the normaly blue jell calender broken and leaking burnt black ooze. He seams a little confused after that, but strides of seaming to be calmer.

Implantation can only be done manually.  Most people don't want minor, off the shelf wetware.  They want the gee whiz, illegal and extraordinarily difficult-to-install wetware.  Peter had only seen a few professors who could do it.  Even then the operations were best performed by a sizable team of professionals in highly controlled conditions.  The only ones who could do it themselves were...

Mages.

How could he have gone to that school for so many years without realizing it?

Who else but cruel, miserly, cackling witches could charge so much for school?

He had a good point there.

So whatever this "leech" was required a mage's skills.  "Spice" equated to one's skill as a mage.  Trog?  Rotten flesh?  It was a riddle.  He had to see it.  Had to know.

"See you there," he grumbles, staring at the table, resisting the urge to dive for the disk.  Best to pretend he doesn't see it.

Was there a monk here?  Best to pretend he doesn't see that either.  He orders a beer with a shaky hand.

The simiorganic drive's gel should be blue with a light bio-luminesence, for it to be dark like that, let alone blacked... means the cells are dead. To be that black and seaping out like that... then its highly unlikely anything can be recovered from it.


You acutely remember reading a study on this! Some heavely modded criminals took to a rather odd means of surgery that removes the part of the brain that filters short term memory to long term, and replacing it with cyber were. This let them to keep incriminating actions from reaching there long term memory, instead re-routing it to an external drive. They would store them some where safe for later. It was rather ingenious practice but had quite the high levels of cyberdegradation on the mind. Drives could be burnt out if they where captured, the memories were to dangerous to have, or just even simply unwanted.

This man was DEFIANTLY on the bad side of the law.

Soltan stood at the desk, saying nothing, waiting for the man to answer him..

His cold eyes bore into the man as he waited with a never ending patience.  He knew the man would answer him in time, and Soltan calm and collected waited for the front desk officer to give him the information he required..

"Rules on weapons and becoming a bounded bounty hunter..and where can I find work
"

He asks the man.

Macy had called him Cal.  This sounded almost right to him, in a blinding moment of painful revelation, he realized that it was shortened; a vulgar argot of familiarity.  He knew that his full name was Caleb Worth...  That was the first time a flash came to him.  The first of a very short list of things he did know - about himself... the world he lived in... anything.

"Look at the bright side..." She said to him, in that frilly thing she wore.  There wasn't exactly warmth in her words, but there was heat in every part of her. The sex, rough and angry, just robbed his suspension of belief, so it came to him as almost matter of fact. "Most people know exactly what kind of assholes they are... you don't have that problem."

He chuckled to himself and glanced out the window again, watching the station rise up ahead and just to port.  They were making approach, and his heart pounded seeing the place.   There was a familiar feeling about it for him, and that seemed to always bring the pain.

The pain he feared, and dreaded... it was like his brain angrily trying to claw it's way out of his cranium.

The pain he needed, and wanted... it always brought with it insight; a vision, a memory... a portent.

In his twelve days of conscious existence he had had exactly 97 of these painful flashes... they had culminated in all that he knew.  97, and he thought about how little that was, and how much that was.

He waited for the pain to come as the shuttle docked... he waited as the mechanical clamps, and armatures moved the vessel into the best boarding position... he waited as he left the cabin.  He waited, but it did not come.

He smiled as he passed the boarding assistant on the way out.  He smiled and thought of the wild, insatiable thing that was Macy, and her words to him.

"I don't love you, Cal... I could... but not until you know yourself a bit better.  Till you know... Like I know... what kind of asshole you've truly been."

"Yeah... I got a pretty good idea the kind of asshole I -am-" he muttered to himself as he showed the lady his passport.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:26, Tue 27 Sept 2011.

The normaly lone marine down in the security station at the matiance dock had a small group of 4 or 5 more moving about in his office, the whole scene seamed quite hectic, "Keep your panties on your not going to get anywhere any time soon so have a seat and we can work this out." He takes your ID and looks over the data pad shaking his head. "Yah there is a problem here, your prisoners transport back to Earth got tied up... odd awful lot of push to try and get it through though, Those Libs really want that guy for some reason." He sighs laying the pad down "We will get your weapons and the like sorted out... main rule, no explosives of any kind, no one wants sucked out into space. Firearms are always a last resort, death in a vacuum isn't pretty. As for Mister Douglas you will have to escort him him to the military med center to have his subderal net removed, then he's under your care till we can figure something out... we don't have time for it and he's your payday not ours."

They remove the attachment to the shotgun before handing it over, and confenscate a good bit of your gear. "You can pick this stuff up when your ready to leave, and we better not catch you using any of this for anything other than keeping this freak in check or protecting yourself."

Large Cloak they just let you ware

You are given a crate with:

Gerber Tool
Swiss Army Knife
Samuri Sword
Big Bowie Knife
Backpack
Rope (25 feet)
Climbing Gear
Grapling hook
calculator
lighter (3)
Gasmask
Bionoculars
Compass
100 Feet String
100 Feet fishing wire
small mirror
water flask
First aid kit
Night vision goggles
Watch
Stop Watch (10)
Camera
listen devices with 10 "bugs"
Spray Paint
Chalk
Pepper spray
Hand gun (A desert Eagle)
Shotgun

Confinscated:
4 lbs C4
Grenade launcher attachemnt
Flares (3)
4 Plasma Grenades
4 Frag Grendades
2 smoke Gren
Lock Pick

(I'll get to statting the weapons later)

(will have to finish your char sheet before you can really to involved cal)

Cal was mind was full of images of various stations most smaller... smaller... did he have his own? or live/work on one?

Sotlan grabs his gear and puts everything back where it belongs on his person..

At the desk he signs the proper paper work and as he does so will attempt to place one of the "bug" under the desk area so he can listen in on anything during his stay in this station..


(Tell me what to roll for that and I will)

After placing the bug, Soltan will double check and make sure his prison is bound at both hand and foot, hands behind his back connected by a wire to the chain on his feet making running impossible.

He will simply lead the man out, his shotgun at the ready of the small of the mans back.

"Simply move where I say, any struggle I shoot,"..He says in his cold voice letting the man know that killing him would be as the same as checking off a list of things to do.