I wouldn't be opposed to a rudimentary floorplan scribbled up via paint, just to get an idea of the Condo. That or a short blurb that serves the same purpose
Polishing up my opinions at the moment. Anyone that's interest in throwing out additional detail (or unsatisfied with how they get pegged) can toss a PM my way. Caveat being that Kali is just the worst--no silver lining or heart of gold.
Just throwing this out there but I'm guessing it would be right to assume Cath has the biggest 'magical footprint' on the team, since I read Face as extremely charismatic shaman. Maybe not as directly offensive like recluse with his chaos magic but I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of anything she conjures. On the my first impression of our resident sniper/demolitions expert is that he's probably only got a few parlor tricks under his belt, right? I mean what would be the point in explosives otherwise, if he could achieve the same result with a snap of his fingers.
Also a fan of the cowboy style rigger, expect Kali to be the Doc Holiday to your Wyatt Earp Refezen!
Real Name: Kanchana Bhattacharya Alias: Kali Age: 34 Gender: Female Metatype: Homo Sapiens sapiens (Human) Metavarient: Nartaki Specialization: Physical Adept/Go-Ganger
Appearance: Five-foot 'mind your own business' of kamikaze crazed, BTL addled vulgarity; a myriad of scars and obscene body graffiti warring for dominance across her auric hide. She's a visual overdose, a sight that screams she's lived life too fast for too long--even by ganger standards. Four arms and the twenty fingers between them announce what her golden hue makes obvious, this Delhiite in exile is a genuine Nartaki, the rare (And nigh homogeneously Indian) human metavariant, though she couldn't be further from the peaceful, priestly image they've cultured as a whole.
Robust and apple figured she cuts a strong but admittedly fleshly silhouette; a large bust making due where broad shoulders and narrow hips fail her. Never would have been billboard material, strictly speaking. A loose 'ombre' styled braid sags its meager length away from the feathered gradient that eats itself away to ink and stubble (left to right) a piss-poor platinum dye job failing to hide the early grays that mingle therein. Large deep set brown eyes lay pinched between dark circles and darker eyeliner, the pupils often stretched to saucers or shrunken to hateful pin pricks. The Kangchenjunga mountain range is featured prominently across her back and her hands and feet are noticeably vascular--just ugly with strength.
Personality: Murderjunkie. Full stop. Hits runs so stimmed up on freakers she's been known to take a bullet for the jollies and spends her off time zenned out on BTLs to the point of barely registering a conversation. Between this and that are moments of dreadful lucidity, usually spent agonizing over the next fix and generally being a dyed-in-the-wool bitch. Silver lining: if you need a gun pointed elsewhere, goon turned into Chinese take-out or bizzed-to-the-gills duke behind the wheel Kali's the go to gal.
Bio: When it comes to her past Kanchana isn't so much a close book as one missing a few pages, a few too many blackouts and braindances behind her to make if fit together neatly anymore. This is how she's tell it:
"Yeah, so see I was born--not that I remember that bit--but, right? Gotta know that means something over there, you carry your caste with you--grok that you're gonna live by a dharma too. So there i am, brought up Brahmin from day zero, and chummer if you think you've got people up your ass with 'can's and 'can't's here you don't suss the half of it. You might get dirty with a badge now and then but even the frag'n corps give you an inch here and there--Nartaki either swallow or suffer that religious bulldrek they peddle back home, and friend they peddle it like geese at a drig off. Then...yeah..so this goes on for a bit, catch? Tired man. Reruns yeah? Here I was groomed for the life of a mascot, soaped--then it roars up in my noggin right? Bee-aye chummer, real loud. It's the mountain, right? Not the real one...frag it I don't know, maybe? Call it my mountain. Says to me, says it's my mentor, right? I figure I'm halfways whacked from boredom but turns out it's the chip-truth chummer. Spirit, right? So. So. So. Yeah. So. I'm like--yeah--I'm like not really ace at it. Ain't got killing hands, gotta have killing hands for it. Or elsewise--yeah, how you going to fight someone that can stop your heart with a love tap? You don't, drek don't stack chummer. Mountain don't like that--gotta stick with what works even when it don't he says, and says and says and...and..yeah. So yeah, I try at first right? Freakers help...this was...yeah. I was revving then, go gangs. Real dukes, no Grid Guide back home. Me though? Made them look like rackin' bourgies--cheating really, phys-ad and all. Crisp eyes man, like ultra crisp, like know how much you weigh exactly crisp. And quick man...quick like...really, yeah? So I start wearing colors, wax some dinks and bronze, R and P, thrill it up--get heavy into guns, yeah? So really--I mean--wake up one day and I'm like arctic you know? Hard man. Then...you know. I don't really catch what happened next right? About that time I started running beetles, low-core at first. Then deep into snuff and moodies. Blue passion. Needed real scratch man, spilling it left and right, right? That's...that's...eh...slow, that's how we started running together right?"
The short version? Somewhere along the line she became a gun-toting, trick shooting adept specialized in a cinematic (and impractical) style of run-and-gunnery. Juiced to the point of being a 'gun-berserker' she makes use of magic-assisted parkour and mystic armor get close enough that 'broadside of the barn' style accuracy isn't an issue. Preferring to fan the hammer akimbo than peer down the sights. Go. Go. Go is her mantra, an absolute hellcat behind the wheel of her tricked out Suzuki mirage.
Cyberware/Bioware: Simsense Player
Loadout: Four cavalier deputy revolvers (Nicknamed Eenie, Meenie, Miney and Moe), A tricked out Suzuki mirage motorbike, a really rad duster
Traction: Yeah? Proper ghost that one, feel? Ace with that nerdy shit but a frag'n twinkie elsewise in my book. Ain't the ilk to get krovvy, suss? Eh? Frag'n mentat man, no matter how kinked the run she just gives it the deep freeze. Like, rowr--I don't know, lizard-brained slitch that she is ain't that I'm fixing to geek her outright. Slit likes to zen, catch? Dreamqueen. That I get. So yeah...right? Decker's a decker, get? Pods man, pods--C.Y.A around em'.
The short of it being that Kali doesn't feel she's 'wicked angry' enough, but as you can imagine from an ex-thrill criminal (and that's a soft ex) she feels that way about most of the team. Untrustworthy (but who isn't in this buisness?) Terminal is seen as a necessary evil--she get's badass points for being a stealth decker and only trading in her handle. As the two enable each other's BTL addictions (And the resident decker can bypass their built in auto-delete) there's an uneasy tolerance between their fire and ice personalities. Though Kali could eventually become a gateway to darker 'ultracore' snuff chips...
Caewil: Don't usually go in for frag'n keebs chummer, act like stick'n around to breathe the air longer is proper apogee. Slo-mo man, catch? Don't rev, don't thrill--just plays the biff. Frag shadows, slit runs in the light, all teeth and smiles. Proper pretty. Boils man, boils--didn't sign up to do drek all while some pixie plays house. Slot's got mojo though, paranormals. Rattles up spooks to fight her battles. Can be a right lector when she gets a chance and that's ace by me. That much at least.
In many ways Kali doesn't see the need for a Face on runs, she'd much rather go in noisy and get out loud. She doesn't like elves. Period. Thinks their a bunch of snooty cobweb collectors down to the last and isn't about to change that opinion anytime soon. Regardless Cath is a face, so pretty much any disagreement ends with Kali usually talked into circles and siding with her. Really the biggest thing Caewil has in the check mark column is her penchant for cruelly toying with opponents--even if Kali thinks she's a bit shit at it.
Damien: That geezer? He's all used up, suss? Got chrome for his broke dick eyes and drags ass with that rakking limp of his. Ex-ops, motorhead and a soft touch. Like wormboy soft chummer. Like put a collar to sleep all temporary-like soft. Should be doing kittycat runs, feel? Proper far as muzzlenecks go I guess, and he can handle a wheel long as he don't overcook. All uppity about gangers--that's drek chummer--fossil's just sore he didn't get his laughs in while he could.
To float a misnomer Kali can 'respect' that Damien is a decent shot and better behind the wheel than the rest of her teammates--but that's the end of it. Here he is another runner that needs to distance himself from the guts and gristle of a firefight, those pesky drones of his buzzing about and doing all the real work. Gist is she doesn't think he adds drek all to the team a simple AI couldn't do with those bots of his sans one bleeding heart ex-ranger. Due to their incredibly straight-forward and conflicting ideologies these two are often a hair-trigger away from a green on green resolution.
Garret: Frag'n sponge that one, always on his walkabouts, real mossback. Heavy hard into deepweed, like got more smoke than blood heavy, suss? He's selling himself some sort of mage but I ain't buy'n, ain't never seen a sparker tote party favors like his. Real though chummer? He cracks--big booms and bigger bullets and that's just my game. Skinny skat looks like he should bust under that Harry of a gun of his--skin an' bones, if he ever showed a wink of skin.
It's hard to have a strong opinion one way or the other about Garret--as he's both extremely accommodating and incredibly lazy. Wishy-washy though he may be explosions and mess-caliber sniper rifles easily endear him to her, even if the rail think runner looks like any old wageslave could knock him for a loop. Again, he isn't a frontline fighter, but that just leaves more fun for her.
Kyuzo - That juve? Seen one grunge seen em' all, right? Frag'n duck he is, hard porky--hung up on his toys and particulars. It's drek, ain't nothin' fancy about skragg'n streetmeat or greasin' zonies. Yeah, we stuffit on and off--wouldn't tag him as input or nothin', just thought he was screamin' flash first time I put blinkers on him. Trouble finds that trog--damned if I didn't--just don't buy that 'null sweat' jander of his. Kaz slips the real stuff chummer, puffs up around the nobodies but I've seen him bombshell outta' a few drekstorms. Frag'n, done him ugly myself a few times for that big mouth of his. We had our jollies, damned if I didn't have to twist his good arm for it though, frag'n spoilsport. Figure I can yank a few more laughs outta' him yet, know?
These two know each other intimately, so to speak. Had a few run ins before anything halfway professional (for better or worse) Seeing as Kaz is the only other member of the team willing and able to get bloody and lose a few teeth he's likewise working more closely with Kali during runs, which isn't necessarily a good thing. There's that nostalgia for her old gang life he drums up and that drive to one-up one another but any relationship they had or foster is purely toxic. Kamikaze's a hell of a drug.
@Krauxis - That was actually the idea. Kaz is the sustainable asset with the right tool for the right job. Kali on the other hand is a square peg screeching towards a round hole at ramming speed. She puts out suppression (Since most of her shots go wide), soaks up the aggro (Since most people see the adept leaping around with four guns as a higher priority threat) and tries to get into spitting distance. John Woo tropes are her bread and butter, made possible by the magical mobility being a physical adept provides--as an ex-thrill criminal she'll always choose whichever option seems cooler or more exciting. Kamikaze's a hell of a drug.
To put it another way Kaz is Arma and Kali is Call of Duty -- Twitch reflexes, endless profanity and makes you feel ashamed for liking it.
@Terminal - Love the concept. I'd of figured we'd end up with a technomancer instead of a decker, but never thought we'd get a decker that could pass as a technomancer.
*** Also, I love that there's an adept power for knowing how much something weighs (down to the gram) by looking at it--seemed perfect for an addict.
So I decided to make a sort of adept/go-ganger. Feel free to have canon dictate that they're responsible for botching the last job via needless violence.
Real Name: Kanchana Bhattacharya Alias: Kali Age: 34 Gender: Female Metatype: Homo Sapiens sapiens (Human) Metavarient: Nartaki Specialization: Physical Adept/Go-Ganger
Appearance: Five-foot 'mind your own business' of kamikaze crazed, BTL addled vulgarity; a myriad of scars and obscene body graffiti warring for dominance across her auric hide. She's a visual overdose, a sight that screams she's lived life too fast for too long--even by ganger standards. Four arms and the twenty fingers between them announce what her golden hue makes obvious, this Delhiite in exile is a genuine Nartaki, the rare (And nigh homogeneously Indian) human metavariant, though she couldn't be further from the peaceful, priestly image they've cultured as a whole.
Robust and apple figured she cuts a strong but admittedly fleshly silhouette; a large bust making due where broad shoulders and narrow hips fail her. Never would have been billboard material, strictly speaking. A loose 'ombre' styled braid sags its meager length away from the feathered gradient that eats itself away to ink and stubble (left to right) a piss-poor platinum dye job failing to hide the early grays that mingle therein. Large deep set brown eyes lay pinched between dark circles and darker eyeliner, the pupils often stretched to saucers or shrunken to hateful pin pricks. The Kangchenjunga mountain range is featured prominently across her back and her hands and feet are noticeably vascular--just ugly with strength.
Personality: Murderjunkie. Full stop. Hits runs so stimmed up on freakers she's been known to take a bullet for the jollies and spends her off time zenned out on BTLs to the point of barely registering a conversation. Between this and that are moments of dreadful lucidity, usually spent agonizing over the next fix and generally being a dyed-in-the-wool bitch. Silver lining: if you need a gun pointed elsewhere, goon turned into Chinese take-out or bizzed-to-the-gills duke behind the wheel Kali's the go to gal.
Bio: When it comes to her past Kanchana isn't so much a close book as one missing a few pages, a few too many blackouts and braindances behind her to make if fit together neatly anymore. This is how she's tell it:
"Yeah, so see I was born--not that I remember that bit--but, right? Gotta know that means something over there, you carry your caste with you--grok that you're gonna live by a dharma too. So there i am, brought up Brahmin from day zero, and chummer if you think you've got people up your ass with 'can's and 'can't's here you don't suss the half of it. You might get dirty with a badge now and then but even the frag'n corps give you an inch here and there--Nartaki either swallow or suffer that religious bulldrek they peddle back home, and friend they peddle it like geese at a drig off. Then...yeah..so this goes on for a bit, catch? Tired man. Reruns yeah? Here I was groomed for the life of a mascot, soaped--then it roars up in my noggin right? Bee-aye chummer, real loud. It's the mountain, right? Not the real one...frag it I don't know, maybe? Call it my mountain. Says to me, says it's my mentor, right? I figure I'm halfways whacked from boredom but turns out it's the chip-truth chummer. Spirit, right? So. So. So. Yeah. So. I'm like--yeah--I'm like not really ace at it. Ain't got killing hands, gotta have killing hands for it. Or elsewise--yeah, how you going to fight someone that can stop your heart with a love tap? You don't, drek don't stack chummer. Mountain don't like that--gotta stick with what works even when it don't he says, and says and says and...and..yeah. So yeah, I try at first right? Freakers help...this was...yeah. I was revving then, go gangs. Real dukes, no Grid Guide back home. Me though? Made them look like rackin' bourgies--cheating really, phys-ad and all. Crisp eyes man, like ultra crisp, like know how much you weigh exactly crisp. And quick man...quick like...really, yeah? So I start wearing colors, wax some dinks and bronze, R and P, thrill it up--get heavy into guns, yeah? So really--I mean--wake up one day and I'm like arctic you know? Hard man. Then...you know. I don't really catch what happened next right? About that time I started running beetles, low-core at first. Then deep into snuff and moodies. Blue passion. Needed real scratch man, spilling it left and right, right? That's...that's...eh...slow, that's how we started running together right?"
The short version? Somewhere along the line she became a gun-toting, trick shooting adept specialized in a cinematic (and impractical) style of run-and-gunnery. Juiced to the point of being a 'gun-berserker' she makes use of magic-assisted parkour and mystic armor get close enough that 'broadside of the barn' style accuracy isn't an issue. Preferring to fan the hammer akimbo than peer down the sights. Go. Go. Go is her mantra, an absolute hellcat behind the wheel of her tricked out Suzuki mirage.
Cyberware/Bioware: Simsense Player
Loadout: Four cavalier deputy revolvers (Nicknamed Eenie, Meenie, Miney and Moe), A tricked out Suzuki mirage motorbike, a really rad duster
Dibs on being the obligatory 'Troll Muscle.' Planning on going the route of a Cyclops metatype just to make depth perception a sore spot for her.
******EDIT*******
What do you folks think sounds better for a core concept? Physical Adept Simsense Junkie or Street samurai Cyberphile?
Scratch all that, I had the best idea for a physical adept while I was out today. I'll have her invert the stereotype of being a mystical martial artist and instead be an unorthodox gunslinger. I rescind my dibs on being the resident troll/team muscle.
Sorry for not posting lately, just been working on the hush-hush stuff. Spheres of knowledge, plot points that can be missed, connecting plot threads and what-not. Ideally I've got a few 'stories' going on in the background then drop a gaggle of vampires into the mix. Was hoping I could keep the interest check lively by answering questions.
Some tidbits though. A viable combat tactic--especially for younger vamps--is 'tactical suicide'. Wraithburn aside a vampire revives whole and unharmed, exactly as they were the day they matured into a Draug/Alp/whathaveyou. This involves two critical factors:
1. Killing oneself quickly 2. Ensuring you revive before an attack can finish you off
As far as number one is concerned more experienced vampires prefer to either cleanly sever the abdominal aorta with a well placed gunshot or inhale sarin gas. Both methods are lethal in the extreme, leading to death within a minute or less and just as easily used against opponents.
Number two can be trickier, as oftentimes it's difficult to judge if you've bought yourself enough time or gotten to a secure enough position. Mainstays are dying in cover (The enemy doesn't know if you're just trying to draw them out), barricading yourself somewhere or just relying on your opponent not knowing that you're a vampire.
As revival is a major hurdle in properly slaying a vamp the proper method practiced by both hunters and warring clans is to either burn, incapacitate or hit them with so much firepower as to make the issue moot.
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And to further diverge from tradition Dhampir (The only vamps that compulsively drink blood) lack any sort of fangs or specialized anatomy for sucking it out of people. This means for the most part you'll be chewing through necks, bleeding someone into a glass or slurping it off the scenery. More importantly however neither Dhampir, Alps or Draug are immune (or even resistant) to disease. It is entirely possible for them to contract HIV, Hepatitis or viral hemorrhagic fevers--in fact this often leads to the characteristic 'sickly' appearance of your ilk.
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Again, a vampire's life cycle begins with the birth of a seemingly normal human child--Known as a Dhampir--the product of a mortal mother and vampiric father. Eventually the curse overtakes them and they mature into either a Vetala, Alp or Draug--though the age at which this occurs varies wildly on a case by case basis. Though it is seldom the case when a young child matures early it is speculated to be due to a weak will, powerful wickedness or ancient father, though these remain topics of debate. Hereditary ties for vampires are flimsy at best (Why they prefer sire to father) as one does not necessarily inherit the same characteristics as their father; Alps can sire Draug and vice versa--to say nothing of the ghostly Vetala. To this end Dhampir are usually a 'fire and forget' resource kept anonymous for their own protection and indoctrinated if and when it becomes prudent. Most Dhampir simply die before such things become an issue, either via natural causes, acting on their dark urges or being targeted by supernatural forces.
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There were other bloodlines, but over time they died out. Leading some to believe that if you destroy the first of their line (The All-Sire) no more come into being.
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Female vamps -can- get pregnant. BUT THIS IS THE WORST IDEA EVER. Their poisonous wombs twist whatever fragile life takes root there, and the curse permeates the unborn child wholly. What's born is crooked and foul...