File:Draethos UAA.jpg

2014-02-09T02:54:30Z

Hadokenchild:

Kraile Nodah

2014-02-09T02:37:28Z

Hadokenchild:

[[File:Character_-_Kisanis_Ro.jpg|right|]]
* '''Name:''' Kraile Nodah
* '''Gender:''' Male
* '''Species:''' Draethos
* '''Age:''' 20
* '''Refresh:''' 3

* '''Actor:''' Mike Foster
* '''Campaign''': Heart of the Dark Side
* '''System:''' ''Fate Accelerated Edition''
* '''Player:''' [[User:Hadokenchild]]

'''BACKGROUND'''

Kraile Nodah was born on Draethos to a long established lineage of highly respected warriors. Unfortunately, his family had also given rise to its fair share of exiles as well. Even before Kraile's birth, there were wagers being placed as to which "side" of the family he would take after. The odds were stacked more so in favor of him following in his father's footsteps, who not only made a name for himself in the gladiatorial games, but as a mercenary as well. Still, there were many Draethos who were convinced Kraile would end up like his cousin Talon Slyter, or worse still, like the infamous Odan-Urr.

Kraile was almost conditioned from birth to follow a warrior's path. From hand to hand combat and martial weapons training, to grueling physical endurance gauntlets, the young Draetho's limits were taxed almost daily. It was a process he thought would never end. Over the years, as his disinterest began to slowly build, it also became less obvious to hide. His instructors began to take notice that Kraile's focus and effort were clearly not 100%. They began to question his resolve, his fortitude, and his place among the Draethos. But nobody questioned it more than his own father.

Having been keeping close tabs on Kraile's development, Kraile's father Drelle was far from pleased with Kraile ruffling some bureaucratic feathers. What began as an accosting from an overbearing parent towards an overworked child, escalated to a shouting match as the difference of opinion grew wider. When Kraile finally confessed abandoning of the culture's warrior way, it let loose a torrent of rage inside his father. The onslaught was sudden, and caught Kraile off guard. Kraile was able to defend himself, but only for a short while. The first blow caught Kraile in the abdomen, knocking the air from his lungs. Desperately trying to breathe, Kraile couldn't defend himself effectively enough, and his father quickly overpowered him.

Kraile lay on the ground, bleeding. His father's from stood looming over him in smug, and condescending triumph. The next thing Drelle knew, he was waking up in a pile of debris that used to be a wall in the house. He struggled to sit up. It was clear he had a few broken ribs, a dislocated collarbone, a splitting headache, and a warm pain slowly spreading across his abdomen. As his vision came back into focus, he could see Kraile's silhouette though the haze of dust. His eyes closed, arms outstretched as if pushing something invisible away, mouth open as if he was screaming, but only stifled whimpers could be heard. Drelle, ignoring the more important matters at hand, became angry again. The bitterness and contempt in his voice, stammered through the enormous amount of pain he was in, to deliver his final rebuking of the child he once called his son.

"So... this is the thanks I get? *cough cough* After all I've given you. I gave you my name *wheeze* my home, my heritage. And this *cough* is how my kindness is returned. *wheeze* By soiling that very name I gave you! *cough cough cough* I should've never... ever, taken you in.*cough* I... would've been far better off *cough cough* letting you two rot on Feriae Junction! *cough wheeze* Your mother was... all alone out there. Ironic... isn't it? *cough wheeze cough* Now she'll be alone here too..."

Kraile stood before the docking bay doors, bracketed by armed guards. He got his wish, to be rid of this world for good, but not in the way he wanted. As the door hissed open, he looked over his shoulder. Scanning the scowling faces of the crowd that had come to see the young Draethos exiled, he caught sight of his mother looking unbearably sad. He couldn't tell who she was sad for. Drelle, or him? She just continued to stare blankly downward, the light he fondly remembered in her eyes extinguished. She looked empty. It would be the last image of Draethos Kraile would see before the doors hissed closed behind him.

The shuttle arrived at the distant planet of Bonadan. Bonadan was chief port world of the Corporate Sector and the primary world in the Bonadan system, boasting 10 gigantic spaceports. It was a strip-mined planet at the end of the Hydian Way. The densely populated planet housed many exotic species from around the galaxy. Here, Kraile found work, taking up a job to whoever needed the help at the time. He even earned two hunks of beskar and bronzium ore for his efforts during a stint loading minerals onto a cargo freighter. During his down time, Kraile would practice his "magic" tricks in secrecy. He knew that, whatever this power is, it was the key to a better life. Kraile decided to do an impromptu street performance, just to see if there was any spare change to be made with his "unique" abilities.

The resulting public reaction was much more positive than he could've expected, yet less than he'd hoped for. Even though his abilities were unrefined, even a bit sloppy at times, his command of illusions was flawless to the layman. Even though he wasn't pulling in even a meager earning from his performances, credits are credits, and a handful here and there could earn you a meal AND a bed for the night. As the months went by, the youngling, now in his early teens, was still living a scavenger type of life. His naive ignorance to non-Draethos cultures exposed his lack of social and economic skills. People were taking advantage of him, and he didn't even know it.

One day Kraile's self-appointed "manager", Gethek Wub-Wub, a two-bit street-wise slimeball bith with a metal right leg, sauntered up to him with his entourage of a half-dozen meat-head cronies. Every other step echoed with a clinking metallic sound.

"[I]It must be pay day[/I]!" Krail thinks to himself.

"Heya kid, how's the good life?" the bith says, with heavy sarcasm.

"Oh... good! It's good." Kraile replies as if he actually believes it. "You have my credits today?"

It's never a good sign when a group of thugs laugh at something that wasn't even remotely a joke.

"Yeah, 'bout that." Wub-Wub says with a half-restrained chuckle. "You're gonna need to butch up your act a bit, kid. You just aren't pulling the crowds like you used to."

Kraile immediately knew something was up. the crowds have been as big as they've ever been.

"Ok... so, where's my cut for today?" Kraile asked with a worried intonation.

The crew laughs again.

"Ok," Kraile interjects. "They keep doing that, why do they keep doing that?" he asks as his finger darts randomly to each person behind Gethek.

"Ya see kiddo" Gethek says as he wraps his arm around Kraile. He clamps his hand down on Kraile's shoulder a bit harder than what should be necessary between business "partners". "You aren't getting a 'cut'. Not today, or any other day. From now on, you'll be giving me everything you got. Cus if you don't, I'm gonna be disappointed. And I don't like being disappointed, you get me?"

Gethek squeezes tighter, accentuating his demands. Then, slapping Kraile roughly across the back, he laughs in his face as he turns and begins to clank away. Kraile's feelings of shame and betrayal, quickly turned into anger.

"...stop." Kraile growled between clenched teeth. The gang just continued on, laughing even louder.

"STOP!" Kraile bellowed, his voice reverberating off the high ceiling of the spaceport marketplace interior.

The gang halts, but were not turning around to face him.

"Now... you [I]owe[/I] me, Wub-Wub. You owe me my 35%, and I better get it!"

The gang, slowly turns around to face a now livid Kraile. But, something's different about them. Their expressions are blank, emotionless, and it unnerved Kraile for a moment. The gang moved together en mass, their footsteps in sync, never breaking their leisurely gait. Kraile was frozen, stunned. Gethek reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stack of credits.

"I want to give you [I]all[/I] my credits." a young woman's voice said from behind the beefcake curtain.

"I want to give you [I]all[/I] my credits." Gethek replies verbatim. He fishes around another pocket and pulls out a large stack of credits, more than what he had been leeching off of Kraile. He hands the stacks of credits to Kraile, and waits.

"I want to go home and think about my poor decisions." the woman says.

"I want to go home and think about my..." Gethek seems to shake the trance has was under. He sees Kraile holding all his money and grabs the Draethos by the neck.

"What... is this one of your tricks, eh?" Gethek sneers. "You think you can steal from Wub-Wub!? I... am very [I]disappointed[/I]!"

As Gethek tightens his grip around Krailes throat, one by one his minions were being tossed by some unseen force left and right. By the time Gethek realized something was amiss, he was all alone with Kraile. His cronies were scattered everywhere, groaning wearily. Gethek turns to see a hooded female figure standing alone amidst the moaning horde on the floor. The hood covers almost her entire face accept her nose and mouth.

"Well now." she begins. "Looks like you're not as thick skulled as I thought you were."

Gathek just eyes her up and down angrily, yet confused. Not entirely sure what to make of her.

"You stay out of this, [I]female[/I]." he says spitefully. Then, the gears click. He makes the connection. "Oh! [I]You're[/I] the one who was gonna make [I]me[/I] give this punk [I]my [/I]creds!" He lets go of Kraile's neck, who immediately drops to the floor. "Oh, I'm gonna enjoy this." the bith declares as he readies a combat stance. The rest of his crew collect their wits about them and rise to their feet, surrounding the mysterious woman.

Kraile quickly rose to his feet, hoping he could maybe even the odds, somehow. Surely she was insane for taking on Gethek and his crew alone. However, his advancement was abruptly cut short, as the robed woman quickly raised her hand to keep him from intervening.

"Trust me bith, when I say, you [I]don't[/I] want to do this." she warns.

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, woman. At this moment, I couldn't want anything more." Wub-Wub replies "Git'er boys!"

The woman flowed gracefully around her assailants. Her cadence and timing were impeccable, making her seem almost invulnerable. Not one blow from her attackers ever found their mark. Her strikes were a blur, yet she appeared to be putting forth little effort in dispatching foe after foe. As two nikto thugs were baring down on her from each side, she focused deeply and blasted them away with some sort of invisible wave.

"She can do magic too!?" Kraile gasped.

Suddenly, Gethek leapt high from behind the hooded woman, but it was an ill advised attack. She seemed to know he was coming, and caught him in mid-air, holding him aloft with an unseen force. She smiled at the helpless goon as she toted him around in the air.

"How does it feel to be helpless, bith?" she asked, amused. "I bet you're wishing you had made some [I]very[/I] different choices right about now."

All Gethek could do is shudder and twitch.

"Now, leave this place. Never come back." she pulls the bith in close, for effect. "Or I will not be so merciful." and she drops the bith to the floor. Gethek collects his pals and they at least flee with heir lives. She removes her hood to face Kraile. She is human. Very beautiful by human standards. Long, raven-hued hair, lays curled up in a single braid atop her head. Her skin color is akin to the outer crust of fresh baked bread, which draws even more attention to her smiling green eyes.

"Are you ok?" she asked

Taking a moment to collect himself he squeaks out the affirmative.

"My name is Jurai Cass, and I am a Jedi Knight. What you witnessed me doing today, was using something called 'the force'. It has taken me years of dedicated training to wield it effectively, and you can learn to do it to. If you wish, we can leave this place today, right now, and you could be a Jedi just like me. I've observed your abilities here, and you are clearly no simple adept. You have amazing potential, and I can help you achieve it to do great things. So, what do you think? Do you want to learn the ways of the Jedi?" she asked with a knowing smile.

'''DESCRIPTION'''

Muscular, lean build, standing 5' 9". Slate gray scaled skin, and completely hairless. Spike-like bone protrusions extend from the elbows.

His hands have an interstitial web between their four fingers, which ended in narrow tips that resembled claws.

Low-light vision, derived from the Draethos' cave-dwelling ancestors.

Draethos possess a natural telepathic ability, that allows them to communicate messages with sentient beings. This is a one-way communication. The intended target cannot reply to a Drathos's telepathy unless they too have the ability to do so.

A row of large teeth on the outside of the mouth give the appearance of an overbite. The lack of lips makes this feature even more pronounced.

'''ASPECTS'''
* '''High Concept:''' ''The Exiled Draethos From The Outer Rim''
* '''Trouble:''' ''The Way Of The Warrior Is In My Blood''
* '''Other Aspects:''' ''Young Jedi'', ''The Darkness And The Light'', "Big Furry Oaf", "Foxy Lark"

'''APPROACHES'''
* '''Careful:''' Average (+1)
* '''Clever:''' Fair (+2)
* '''Flashy:''' Mediocre (+0)
* '''Forceful:''' Fair (+2)
* '''Quick:''' Good (+3)
* '''Sneaky:''' Average (+1)

'''STUNTS'''
* '''Illusion''' - Because I'm Strong In Illusion Force Powers, I gain a +2 when Cleverly creating a deception advantage.
* '''Adversary Lore''' - Because I know my enemy, I get +2 when I Cleverly create an advantage against an opponent in combat.
* '''Draw Closer''' - Because I'm skilled telekinetic combat tactics, I can use the Force to Quickly pull an enemy into the path of my lightsaber adding +2 to my attack.
* '''The Ferocity Form''' - Because I'm trained in the Vaapad lightsaber form, I get +2 when I quickly defend in combat.

'''STRESS & CONSEQUENCES'''
* '''Stress:'''
* '''Mild (2):'''
* '''Moderate (4):'''
* '''Severe (6):'''

Isamu Dyson

2013-12-19T06:00:19Z

Hadokenchild: /* PERSONAL DATA */

[[File:Victoria-4-gw3-male-texture-large.jpg]]

==PERSONAL DATA==

"I had a life...a good life. I had friends, a great job, a future." 

'''NAME/PRIMARY ALIAS:''' Isamu Dyson ''aka'' Marcus Bowman 
'''Alias:''' Marcus Bowman (Fake) 
'''Metatype:''' Elf 
'''Ethnicity:''' English American 
'''Age:''' 28 '' 
'''Sex:''' Male 
'''Height:''' 177.8 cm/5' 11" 
'''Weight:''' 79.4 kg/15 lbs 
'''Place Of Origin:''' United Canadian and American States, Milwaukee 
'''Current Residence:''' Salish-Shidhe, Seattle

==BACKSTORY==
At 9 years old, Isamu Dyson was perceived as an... odd child. He was always more fascinated with machinery and technology than the typical social engagement. There were times when his mother would find him sitting on the floor of the kitchen "listening to the dishwasher talk". His parent's just played it off as a child's overactive imagination, though it made them a bit worrisome that something was seriously wrong. By age 11, Isamu discovered he could turn various household items on or off, even set off car alarms while the vehicle is inside the garage. His parents were made aware of his abilities during a rather brave and mischievous phase, which was abruptly cut short. As his mother was leaving to go get groceries, Isamu would erratically lock the brakes on the car, lurching her back and forth in her seat. As Isamu rolled around on the lawn in uncontrollable laughter, his mother frantically ushered him inside. There was a brief moment of denial between his parents, but the evidence was just too obvious.

Their son, was a Technomancer.

They knew his life was in danger, despite being the only ones who were aware of his abilities. Rather than evicting him to the sprawls, they decided to figure out how to keep his powers hidden, as best as they could. Isamu respected his parent's wishes, and was able to keep himself in check outside the home. This life held up well into high school, as his parents always made sure there was an outlet for him to explore his abilities. His father, a phenomenal rigger who worked for the UCAS National Guard in the Chicago area, would bring home damaged microdrones once in a while for Isamu to mess around with. It's expected that some drones will go missing, become damaged from operator error, end up destroyed by debris crushing them, or drawing the fire of the various roaming gangs as the military tried to keep them inside The Wall.

Shortly after Isamu's graduation from high school, his father received a call from his superior officer. There was a breach in The Wall, and they were having a bit of trouble locking it down. After saying his good byes to his family, and their wishing for his safe return, he left. Usually, incidents like this were fairly easy to get a handle on, but when he didn't call after 4 hours, something was wrong.

The phone rings.

They told Isamu's mother(with as little detail as possible)that, while the situation was under control, the position her husband's team was deployed at was overrun. There were no survivors. The news broke her. She began using BTL's to cope. Her addiction escalated to the point that she didn't even make it to the funeral. Isamu went alone. When he got home, he found her lying in a hallway unconscious, unresponsive, and not breathing. Isamu immediately jumped into the matrix and flagged EMS for immediate dispatch. While the crash team responded in short order, it was too late. She was gone. It rained pretty heavily during her funeral. The white noise generated from the spattering of falling rain drowned out the sermon, leaving him only his thoughts to dwell on. His mind fixed on the events of the last 7 days. "Where do I go? What do I do?".

His parents had already paid his tuition to go to college at UW Madison. So, rather than letting his parent's hard work go to waste, he decided that make good their hopes for him and fulfill his obligation. His dream, was to make "the greatest drones ever!" for his father ever since he was little. Fondly remembering his father's amused smile as he handed him a shoddily reconstructed minidrone with a jurryrigged servo that squealed uncontrollably, exclaiming "Here dad, I fixed this for you! He will help you at work to fight bad guys!". Now, Isamu wanted to share that fruits of the dream. With his will strengthened, and focus and determination unshakeable, he breezed through his terms without fault.

Isamu was having job offers thrown at him left and right from every AA corporation under the sun (in the general Great lakes region). He jumped on the opportunity to work for a subsidiary of NeoNet called DataDyne. Local, familiar, great salary, and all the jelly doughnuts you can eat on Fridays between 7:00am and 7:15am (get there early). Isamu could clearly see this place was in dire need of some help in his department. Their organization was questionable, their methods were a bit sloppy, and their design choices were outdated and questionable. Their current lead of the engineering team was a Chinese-born Ork by the name of Samuel Tsung. His personality emanated "backstabbing slimeball", and Isamu immediately didn't trust him. By the end of his first quarter with DataDyne, he had drawn the eye of his superiors with his bold, sleek, and efficient designs. Tsung didn't take to kindly to hearing their CEO saying "You keep this level of work flowing Dyson, you may find yourself running this department. Hahahahaha!", and he was determined to keep Isamu from jumping ahead of him. But how?

Isamu was enjoying his life. He would show up to work smiling, and go home the same way. He knew his parents would be proud beyond measure at his accomplishments. He lived and breathed his work. If he wasn't designing at work, he was designing at home, diving into the matrix, searching for new composite materials, components, and weapons to mount. Today, however, would change his life forever. He was to present a new aeronautic drone using a lift system that was practically silent, emitted a low heat signature, and was more difficult to spot on the matrix by unauthorized programs. It was a product that would've pushed DataDyne and NeoNet to the top of the pack.

Isamu stood before his board of directors, confident, ready. Just as he was presenting a rundown on the technical specs, he noticed something wasn't right about the pictures being displayed. There were marks in the lower right corner that weren't present yesterday. Just then, Tsung barged in, with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, bringing the presentation to a grinding halt.

"Attention, everyone!" Tsung bellowed. "I do believe we have a thief in our midst."

Isamu was slack-jawed, stunned speechless. "What on Earth is this idiot on about?" he wondered.

"As you can see gentlemen, these technical specifications and related images were STOLEN from MY design portfolio this morning, as they still bear my digital watermark in the corner, here." Tsung said as he gestured towards the floating images.

"WHAT?!" Isamu growled. "What are you talking about!?"

"You thought you could get away with it, didn't you, Dyson?" Tsung sneered. If Isamu's personal space was a country, then Tsung was launching a full-scale invasion of it. "How long have you been pilfering my ideas, huh?"

"How did you do this?" Isamu asked, confused. Tsung, smiled accordingly. "I had a level 6 encryption and a firewall the likes of which this place has never seen befo-". The stunning realization stops Isamu mid-sentence. "No way. You're... a Techn-".

"A TECHNOMANCER!" Tsung interrupts, pointing at Isamu. "There's no telling what else he may have stolen from us, or what secrets he knows!"

The entire boardroom erupts into a chorus of frenzied shouting. A few of the old suits fumblied for their heart medications. Tsung simply folds his arms and smiles. Alec Travellian, the senior board member in this chapter, repeatedly mashes his finger on the security alarm button.

"I need a security detail at the conference room immediately!"

"You.. you SONUVA BITCH!" Isamu screamed as he lunged for Tsung. He was stopped by security personnel, inches from Tsung's throat.

"Tsung," Travellian continued. "Have Dyson put in a holding cell. A Technomancer brain is a nearly priceless commodity. I can't allow a treasure such as that to roam the streets for someone else to find. I also want all his assets procured and assessed for liquidation. His money, his home, his car, everything. Oh, make sure his cell has a key lock, not anything accessible from the matrix."

"Understood sir." Tsung replied.

Isamu is hurled into a 4x9 room. No chair. No cot. No toilet. And a single light hanging from a cable a few inches from the ceiling. Isamu slowly rolls over on the cold concrete floor, and is immediately greeted with the heel of a very expensive shoe in his abdomen. Tsung hunches over a wincing, breathless Isamu.

"You should've dialed your matrix running back, Isamu." Tsung said, leaning in closer. "WAY back."

Isamu rolled onto his hands and knees, coughing and wheezing for air.

"Awww, what's the matter Dyson? Got nothing to say to me?"

"Just *cough* two words big-fellah." Isamu replied as he got to his feet, finally getting his lungs back in order. "Breath...mint."

Tsung responded, just as an Ork would, by burying his knuckles into Isamu's cheekbone. The impact sends Isamu reeling into the wall behind him, hitting his head in the process before dropping back down to the cold, hard floor. Tsung reaches down, picks Isamu up by the neck, and slams him into the wall, holding him a few inches off the ground.

"Shut your mouth, smart ass." Tsung growled. "I'm close to just killing you now, but you're worth far more alive." Tsung lets go of him.

"Why'd you *gag* rat me out? *cough*"

"Because you were risking my safety by being here." Tsung replied. "You escalated too quickly, threatening to upend everything I've built. I've worked VERY hard, to keep the corp from sniffing around our department looking for techies like us. So I threw you under the bus, because you were jeopardizing my life!"

"Bullshit." Isamu scoffed. "You couldn't keep up with me, could you? You were the one, who was running rampant through the matrix. Trying to find a way to beat me. And you couldn't do it."

Tsung's knuckles cracked as his fists clenched.

"You were getting passed up by the new kid, and that was eating you up inside." Isamu continued. "So YOU falsified the presentation documents to make it look like I stole them from you. What, just so you could save a little pride? Get the hell over yourself."

Tsung could no longer keep his anger in check, and proceeded to give Isamu the beatdown of a lifetime. Isamu tried his best to defend himself, but he was no brawler. A few lucky hits here and there, but all it did was get Tsung even more enraged. Tsung catches Isamu with a right cross, and Isamu goes down hard. Tsung spits a wad of blood and saliva onto Isamu's barely conscious body.

"Yeah, yeah that's RIGHT! THAT"S RIGHT you damn Keebler, I'M THE BEST! That's what you get for messing with me!" Tsung screamed, glaring with intense malice at his foe. He aggressively straightened his suit never breaking his gaze on Isamu.

"Tsung!"

He whirls around to see Travellian standing at the open cell door.

"What do you think you're doing!?" he hissed between clenched teeth.

Tsung knew right away something wasn't right. His boss's face was beet-red, sweating, and he was shaking like a BTL junkie suffering withdrawal.

"Uhm..I..w-was.." Tsung stammered. "Uhm..reprimanding an unruly criminal, sir."

"Step away from Mr Dyson, now." Travellian's words carried an obvious urgency, and warning.

"I'll take it from here, if you don't mind." A woman's voice announced from behind Travellian, who quickly moves out of the way.

She appears from between the statuesque forms of the two Troll guards on either die of the door. Her long, wavy, bronze-hued hair, flitted gently as she walked forward. Her attire screamed professional. Ultra high-class, and very expensive. Heavily tinted glasses on gold frames, charcoal colored suit, and a robin egg blue, button down shirt. While she wasn't wearing heels, her shoes looked no less out of place with her attire, yet her footsteps were deftly silent. Her build was above average for human females, and her gait allowed her to cover ground swiftly past Tsung to Isamu's side. She checks his pulse and gives him a look-over. Isamu, responding to her touch, groggily rolls his head in her direction.

"You look like drek, Mr. Dyson." The woman said with a slight grin.

"You should see the other guy." Isamu groaned. "And FYI, that's what he looks like when someone DOESN'T punch him."

"You still in a good mood, eh Dyson?" Tsung growled. "How's about I kick your ass again?"

Tsung angrily approached a still prone Isamu, more than eager to put his foot to him again. Travellian didn't even get the chance to try to stop him, as he reached out in an attempt to will Tsung to halt. The gun flashed out from the slide holster of the woman's right arm, and put a bullet directly into Tsung's kneecap. As Tsung lay screaming, clutching his booldy knee, Travellian frantically attempted to hold the guards at bay.

"StanddownstanddownstaNDDOWN STAND DOWN NOW GOD DAMMIT!" His voice escalating to a scream. "Do not engage! Do not fire a single shot! Just...leave it be."

The guards disappointingly comply to the request. The woman stands up, holstering her arm slide back up her sleeve.

"Mr. Travellian. I want Dyson released into my custody immediately." She demanded.

"Y-yes Miss Reynolds." Travellian replieas, eagerly. He then begins flailing his hands in a frantic gesture for the Troll guards to assist Isamu outside. "Get'em up get'em up get'em up! Outside. Outside quickly!"

"You and your affiliates are forbidden to pursue Mr. Dyson for 48 hours." Reynolds continued.

"Yes Miss Reynolds."

"If you attempt to contact, apprehend, locate, or assail Mr. Dyson before those 48 hours have elapsed, I will return to reduce this building to ash, with you in it."

Travellian, was too horrified for words.

"Mr. Travellian, do we have an understanding?" Reynolds said, pulling her glasses down the bridge of her nose. Her glowing yellow cat eyes glaring over the top of the frames.

"Yes...Miss Reynolds." Travellian whimpered.

The Trolls hoist Isamu up by the arms and take him out of the room, with Reynolds following them closely. Travellian collapses to the floor a nervous wreck. Tsung is still writhing in pain, bleeding on the floor from the hole in his knee.

When they exit the front of the building, they are greeted by: 2 dozen, heavily armed soldiers in full military combat gear; 4 armored personnel carriers, 2 Nissan Hounds, and a massive tank. All surrounding a lone Ferrari Diablous. The Trolls, at the site of a veritable army, promptly dump Isamu to the sidewalk and haul tail back inside.

"My God.." Isamu said in a hushed tone. "I guess SOMBODY thinks I'm important."

"Somebody DID." Reynolds replied. "Get up and get in."

As Isamu shut the door to the Ferrari, he looked out the window in time to watch Tsung run/limp out the front door screaming obscenities, see the guns trained on him, and turns back towards the door as awkwardly and gracefully as a half crippled Ork would, and fled back inside. Isamu smiles.

As the pair traveled down the road, Reynolds brushes her hair over her pointy ear.

"You're an Elf?" Isamu blurted out. "An Elf with cat eyes..."

"Mr. Dyson, here's the situation." Reynolds interjects "Your father paid a lot of money for a contingency in his contract that.."

"Wait, my FATHER!?" Isamu blurted out.

"Yes, Mr. Dyson. ...That in the event of his death we would monitor you and your activities..."

"Contract? What contract?"

"...to be certain that, in the event of you being discovered leading to your capture or enslavement as the result of your abilities..."

"Hold on a minute!"

"...that we would uphold the agreement by liberating you from your position, give you provisions, as well as a new identity, and assist you in relocation."

"NEW IDENTITY!?"

"You have 47.75 hours to leave UCAS territories to find a permanent residence elsewhere."

Isamu found it difficult to take all this sudden news in.

"Hold on a damn minute. What money? What contract? What contingency? What are you TALKING ABOUT?" He asked.

Reynolds glanced at Isamu. She could see it in his eyes that he had no clue.

"Your father had made powerful friends in his day." She said.

"My dad was a simple rigger for the National Guard."

"Well this may come as a shock to you kid, but your dad was a runner for many years."

"No... that's impossible. No fragging way."

"He was doing runs for us before you were even born. The National Guard bit was just a cover, of sorts."

"The hell it was! I remember the funeral. It was a full on, military funeral."

"I'm sure you do remember it that way. But, none of those people were National Guardsman either. Those were the remains of his chummer group. Decked out in full regalia."

Isamu slumped back into his seat. The shock of reality hitting him hard.

"I know this is a lot for you to take in right now, but know this. Your dad did amazing work for us. And everything he did, he did you for you."

Isamu remained silent. Staring out the window, thinking.

"Ok..." Reynolds continued. "We have a vehicle standing by with a bug-out bag containing a firearm, clothes, money, a Mr Johnson contact, and your new ID information. I would suggest to get as far away from here as possible."

They headed out into the countryside, where they pulled up in front of an old barn out on an old dirt road. Entering the barn, there was an object covered by a tarp in the center of the floor. Removing the tarp reveals a brand new Suzuki Mirage, a backpack on the seat with everything Reynolds described inside, and a motorcycle helmet by the handlebars. Isamu fishes out the ID card.

"Marcus Bowman? That's my new name?"

"Bowman, was your father's REAL last name. He changed it to Dyson when he became a runner."

"No kiddin'?"

"Here." Reynolds said, tossing him the keys.

"I... hope you're not mad at your father for lying to you."

"You know something?" Isamu replied with a smile. "I never thought military service suited him anyhow. The uniform made him look goofy. I, uh, actually used to picture him flying his drones against gangers, and awakened in epic firefights. Lots of explosions and stuff too."

Reynolds sighs, relieved.

"Who do you work for again?" Isamu inquires.

"That's classified."

"Ah. Of course it is." Isamu exhales in defeat.

"Take care of yourself." Reynolds says as she turns to leave.

"Could you at least tell me your first name?"

Reynolds pauses for a moment at the barn door. She turns her head towards Isamu.

"It's Inara. Inara Reynolds."

"Well then, Inara. Thanks. For everything."

"You're welcome, Mr. Bowman." Inara leaves with a smile.

Isamu, having been dwelling on his memories of his father for the last hour, suddenly remembers the drone his father gave him when he was young. He had to have it. So, against better logic, he heads back home. When he gets there, he finds the home ransacked. Everything was either turned upside down or inside out.

"The Hell?"

Concerned that whoever did this might return, he quickly searched the house for his drone, and his drone tools and gear. He found his drone in a few minutes. It was broken. VERY broken, but repairable. He gathered his tools quickly as they were in a heap together. As he searched for his commlink, he found his family picture smashed on the floor. He pulled the photo out of the broken frame and shards of glass, blowing on the photo to shake the rest of the glass off. Looking at it, his heart feels heavy in his chest. So many questions he wants to ask his father, but will probably never get the answers to. He puts the photo in his back pocket, gathers his things together, and leaves.

==ATTRIBUTES==
'''Attribute --- Rank - Max - Current''' 
'''Body''' --------- [ 3 ] --- [ 6 ] --- [ 3 ] 
'''Agility''' ------- [ 3 ] --- [ 7 ] --- [ 3 ] 
'''Reaction''' --- [ 4 ] --- [ 6 ] --- [ 4 ] 
'''Strength''' ---- [ 2 ] --- [ 6 ] --- [ 2 ] 
'''Willpower''' - [ 4 ] --- [ 6 ] --- [ 4 ] 
'''Logic''' -------- [ 5 ] --- [ 6 ] --- [ 5 ] 
'''Intuition''' ---- [ 6 ] --- [ 6 ] --- [ 6 ] 
'''Charisma''' --- [ 4 ] --- [ 8 ] --- [ 4 ] 

==SPECIAL ATTRIBUTES==
'''Type - Rank/Max''' 
'''Edge''' - 1/6 
'''Essence''' - 6/6 
'''Resonance''' - 6/6 
'''Racial Bonus''' - Low-Light Vision 
'''Composure''' - 8 
'''Judge Intentions''' - 10 
'''Memory''' - 9 
'''Lift/Carry''' - 30/20 
'''Movement''' - Walk: 6 / Run: 12 

==CONDITION MONITOR==
'''Physical Damage Track''' 
[_] [_] [-1] [_] [_] [-2] [_] [_] [-3] [_] 

'''Stun Damage Track''' 
[_] [_] [-1] [_] [_] [-2] [_] [_] [-3] [_] 

'''Overflow''' - 3

==LIVING PERSONA==
'''Matrix Attribute - Rating''' 
'''Device Rating - 6''' 
'''Attack - 4''' 
'''Sleaze - 6''' 
'''Data Processing - 5''' 
'''Firewall - 4''' 

==LIMITS==
'''Type - Rank/Max''' 
'''Physical - 4/4''' 
'''Mental - 7/7''' 
'''Social - 6/6''' 

==INITIATIVE==
'''Type - Bonus+Dice''' 
'''Physical - 10+d6''' 
'''Astral - 12+2d6''' 
'''Matrix AR - 10+d6''' 
'''ColdSim - 11+3d6''' 
'''HotSim - 11+4d6''' 
'''Rigging AR - 10+d6''' 

==RESONANCE LIBRARY==
'''Complex Form - Target - Duration - Fading Value''' 
'''Editor '''- File - Permanent - Level+2 
'''Puppeteer '''- Device - Immediate - Level+4 
'''Stitches '''- Sprite - Permanent - Level-2 
'''Infusion (Sleaze)''' - Device - Sustained - Level+1 
'''Infusion (Data Processing)''' - Device - Sustained - Level+1 
'''Infusion (Firewall) '''- Device - Sustained - Level+1 

==RESONANCE SKILLS==
'''Name - Rating''' 
'''Compiling - 5''' 
'''Decompiling - 5''' 
'''Registering - 5''' 

==REGISTERED SPRITES==
'''Machine Sprite''' - Level - 6, Tasks - 3 
Attack - 7, Sleaze - 6, DP - 9, Firewall - 8, Initiative - 15, INI Dice - 4d6, Resonance - 6 

==QUALITIES==
'''Type - Name - (Rating) - Effect''' 

'''Positive - Focused Concentration (5):''' Negates the negative effects of one complex form equal to this rating. 

'''Positive - Juryrigger - (1):''' +2 dice pool modifier to Mechanical Tests when Juryrigging gear. 

'''Positive - Gearhead - (1):''' Increases vehicle or Drone speed by 20% or grants +1 to Handling. Grants +2 dice pool modifier to difficult maneuvers/stunts for 1d6 minutes. Can opt for another 1d6 time bonus at 1 vehicle stress damage after the first bonus time ends. 

'''Negative - Bad Rep - (1):''' +3 points of notoriety. 
"Hell, even SAYING the word 'Technomancer' can make an people uneasy. Now, imagine someone saying that while your giving a presentation in front of the board of directors." 

'''Negative - Prejudiced - (3/0):''' Biased against Samuel Tsung and anyone, or thing he is involved with. 
"pfft.. TSUNG... he's a bastard coated bastard with bastard filling." 

'''Negative - Corporate Limited SIN''' 
"I was good at my job. Damn good. I started gaining the attention of the higer-ups, and soon I found myself designing Drones from the ground up. Some people weren't too keen on my sudden popularity, given how green I was. I heard the grumblings. Ok, I snooped around a few inboxes too. But I didn't take it personal. Tsung, however, did. Apparently, I took what he thought was rightfully his. So he swiped my new designs, and outed me in front of some of the most important people in the corporation. You ever been led out of a building at gunpoint?" 

==SKILLS==
'''Name - Rank''' 
'''Pistols''' - 1 
'''Gunnery''' - 1 
'''Pilot (Aircraft)''' - 2 
'''Pilot (Walker)''' - 1 
'''Pilot (Ground)''' - 1 
'''Aeronautics Mechanic''' - 1 
'''Computer''' - 2 
'''Software''' - 1 
'''Hardware''' - 2 
'''Hacking''' - 3 
'''Cybercombat''' - 1 
'''Electronic Warfare''' - 1 
'''Perception''' - 1 

==KNOWLEDGE & LANGUAGES==
'''KNOWLEDGE''' 
'''Name - Type - Rank''' 
'''Corporations''' - Professional - 1 
'''Corporate Security''' - Professional - 2 
'''Drone Engineering''' - Professional - 6 
'''Integrated Weapons Systems''' - Professional - 1 
'''Architectural Design''' - Academic - 1 
'''Mr Johnson's''' - Street - 2 
'''Local Medical Facilities''' - Street - 1 
'''Local Fixers''' - Street - 1 
'''Local Fencers''' - Street - 1 
'''Local Safe Houses''' - Street - 1 

'''LANGUAGES''' 
'''Type - Rank''' 
'''English''' - Native 
'''Binary''' - 1 

==IDs/LIFESTYLES/CURRENCY==
'''Primary Lifestyle:''' Middle $5,000''' 
'''Additional Lifestyle Costs:''' Special Work Area ($1,000), Hard To Find ($500) 
'''Shared Lifestyle:''' $2,300 
'''Nuyen:''' $141,600 ''' 
'''SIN:''' Corporate Limited - Isamu Dyson 
'''Fake SIN:''' Marcus Bowman [Rating 4] 
'''Fake License:''' Marcus Bowman [Rating 4] 
'''DocWagon:''' Basic Contract 
'''Facility''' 
'''Notoriety''' - 3 

'''Remaining Nuyen on hand:''' $2,835 

==CONTACTS==
'''Name - Connection/Loyalty''' 
'''Fence''' - 1/1 
'''Mr Johnson''' 3/4 

==WEAPONS & ARMOR==
'''RANGED''' 
'''NAME - ACC - DMG - AP - MODE - RC - AMMO - AVAIL - COST''' 
'''Ares Predator V''' (primary) - 5(7) - 8P - -1 - SA - * - 15(c) - 5R - $725 
'''Ares Light Fire 70 ''' - 7 - 6P - * - SA - * - 16(c) - 3R - $200 
'''Parashield Dart Pistol''' - 5 - as Drug/Toxin - * - SA - * - 5(c) - 4R -(x2)$1,200 
'''Parashield Dart Rifle''' - 6 - as Drug/toxin - * - SA - * - 6(m) - 6R - $1,200 

'''MELEE''' 
'''Weapon - ACC - REACH - DMG - AP - AVAIL - COST''' 

'''ARMOR''' 
'''NAME - RATING - CAP - AVAIL - COST''' 
'''Lined Coat''' - 9 - 9 - 4 - $$900 

'''ARMOR MOD - MOD RATING - AVAIL - MOD COST''' 
'''Thermal Dampening''' - 2 - 10R - $1,000 
'''Nonconductivity''' - 3 - 6 - $750 
'''Chemical Protection''' - 2 - 6 - $500 
'''Fire Resistance''' - 2 - 6 - $500 

'''AMMO''' 
'''Standard Rounds''' (x100) - $200 
'''Injection Darts''' (x20) - $150 

==GEAR==
Goggles (Cap/6) ($300) 
Vision Enhancements - 
Flare compensation (Cap/1) ($250) 
Vision Enhancement (Cap/3) ($3,000) 
Vision Magnification (Cap/1) ($250) 
Thermographic Vision (Cap/1) ($500) 
Micro Flare Launcher ($175) 
Flares (x3) ($75) 
CS/Tear Gas (x10) ($200) 
Narcoject (x4) ($200) 
Nausea Gas (x4) ($100) 
Pepper Punch (x10) ($50) 
Gas Mask ($200) 
Replacement Air Supply Cannister (x5) ($200) 
Chemsuit (6) ($1,300) 
Miniwelder ($250) 
Miniwelder Fuel Canister ($80) 
Survival Kit ($200) 
Repair Kit ($500) 
Biomonitor ($300) 
Disposable Syringe (x10) ($100) 
Medkit (x4) (R4) ($4,000) 
Trauma Patch (x2) ($1,000) 
Doc Wagon Contract ($5,000) 
Spare Clip (x10) ($50) 
Concealable Holster ($150) 
Hidden Arm Slide ($350) 
Erika Elite Commlink ($2,500) 
RFID Tags (x50) ($50) 
Data Chips (x20) ($100) 
Security Tags (x20) ($100) 
Stealth Tags (x20) ($200) 
Bug Scanner (6) ($600) 
Data Tap ($300) 
White Noise Generator (6) ($300) 
Gold Credstick (x2) ($200) 
Fake SIN (4) ($10,000) 
Fake License (4) ($800) 

==VEHICLES==
'''Suzuki Mirage''' ($8,500) 

==DRONES==
'''Lockheed Optic-X2''' ($21,000) 
'''MCT Fly-Spy''' (x2) ($4,000) 
'''MCT-Nissan Roto-Drone''' ($5,000) 
'''Shiawase Kanmushi''' (x2) ($2,000) 
'''Ares Dualist''' ($4,500) 

Back to [[Splintered State Runners]]

'''[[Blade/♥ "Heart Under Blade" (Shinobu YuuRei)]]''' 
'''[[Prodigal]]''' 
'''[[Isamu Dyson]]''' 
back to [[Shadowrun Splintered State]]

Isamu Dyson

2013-12-02T11:09:15Z

Hadokenchild: /* PERSONAL DATA */

Isamu Dyson

2013-12-02T11:08:52Z

Hadokenchild: /* PERSONAL DATA */