old and locked Past tense IC

You receive a seemingly handwritten letter, wax sealed, with a crest imbedded in the wax, delivered by one of your fixers boys:

“Dear [your name]

You are hereby invited to attend a business dinner at the restaurant ‘Mystery Meat’.
In case a satisfactory agreement about the run can not be achieved, you accept by your attendance that any information given during the meeting is confident and will not be used or sold.

The general topic will be archaeology.

Show this letter to the concierge and you will be shown to your place.

You will be compensated for your expenses.

Sincerely,
Johnson”

Valkyrie was a bit surprised by this Letter. she had not hoped to get work this fast. even better, it was something she liked - history.
she put on her MoonSilver dress and hailed a cab, to get to the meet. she hoped she would not jump out too much in a dress, but the address of the meet suggested middle - high class, so she did not want to be asked to leave just because he was not in dress code.

Peering through the peephole, Dakota sees that the guy on his doorstep is indeed one of Fast Eddie's boys. The fixer had been courteous enough to contact Dakota before the courier had arrived, thus avoiding an unfortunate 'accident.'
He opened the door and took the letter, beaming the guy a few cred as a tip. The guy would be paid by his boss, but keeping certain palms greased insured continued good service and discretion.
Closing the door, he went to lay the letter on the flat surface of the table in the 'dining area' of his small flat. He switched on the overhead light so as to get a good look at the letter.
Scanning the letter with the modified enhancement of his cybereyes, Dakota makes a digital copy and transfers it to his commlink.
"Max," he speaks aloud, his voice command activating the agent running in standby on the link.
"S-s-standing by, g-guy," the Max Headnode personality software replied in its usual sardonic style.

"Access file marked 'johnson.letter.001' and Analyze for Encryption or other anomalies. Cross reference crest seal with all known hieroglyphics."

"<sigh> I was planning on interfacing with the microwave this evening. She says she's got something hot in store for tonight."

Dakota grinned in spite of himself. "Check the file for now, Max. You can 'interface' later."

The agent responded glumly, "Just because you haven't had a d-date in 5 months, 23 days, 11 hours, 7 minutes and 34 seconds doesn't mean the rest of us have given up on the opposite gender. Oh, very well, I'll look at the file. Working..."

Pilot 3 + Analyze 4
[url=http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/3217927/ ]Result[/url] = 1 hit

The ‘Mystery Meat’ is on the upper side of the elegancy (and price) scale. But it is not as elegant as one would be underdressed in casual clothes. The waiters wear chic uniforms, the meat comes from real animals, not from clonebanks or soy. Rumours say that given two weeks notice, one can order any kind of meat and get it. For the right price.

If you show the concierge at the entrance your letter, he will beckon a waitress who will lead you to a secluded room. Red carpet covers the floor, the walls are painted white. A big oval table fills the center of the room. The waitress would ask if you like to order a drink.


Dakotas Agent finds almost nothing about the seal but a trademark of a German security company and an avatar in an really old cache of a matrix forum regarding the awakened community.

After a few moments, the Agent reported on its progress, its tone dry and machinelike.

"Analysis complete. No discernible anomalies found in the text. Two matches were found on the seal: a trademark of a German security company and an avatar in a really old cache of a matrix forum regarding the awakened community."

Dakota listened to the report as he slipped into something more suitable for the meet. He didn't really expect to find anything blatant in the letter, but the unusual nature of receiving a hardcopy document had piqued his curiosity...and his wariness.

"Thanks, Max. Save the file in Protected storage with full Encryption."

"File stored," the Agent replied. "Further tasks?"

"None at the moment," Dakota said as he left his apartment and headed for the stairs to the ground floor. "But remain on Standby. I may need you later."

The Agent's response was that of a spoiled child refused a request, "Aww, Jones! You're cramping my style!"

Ignoring this outburst, Dakota hurried down the stairs, across the small foyer, and out onto the building's front walk. Stepping to the curb, he raised his hand to signal a taxi that was miraculously passing just at that instant and empty.
The cabbie looked up and started to pull to the curb when Max beamed a rather uncomplimentary message to the cabbie's commlink. The cabbie's eyebrows drew together into a thunderous line, his emerging grin abruptly faded and he flashed a universally-understood, one-fingered sign that did not mean 'We're #1' and sped away.

Staring glumly after the retreating taxi, Dakota thought - not for the first time - of having his commlink's personality software either replaced with a more cooperative version or simply uninstalled altogether.

"Max," he said, his voice tense with disapproval.

"The man didn't look reputable," the Agent lied. "I may have just saved your life."

Dakota sighed. "Max, I have to get across town for a meet and I don't have time for your tantrums. I need this job, which means you need me to get this job. If I don't find a cashflow soon, I may have to sell off a few household luxuries...like a certain microwave?"

"Oh, you wouldn't," Max's reply was tinged with alarm and disbelief.

"Are you going to stop interfering?"
Amazed at the ludicrous idea of not only arguing with, but threatening the relationship status of, his commlink's software, Dakota wondered if there were other people faced with this sort of situation.

"Alright, you win." The Agent sounded resigned, but Dakota knew it would be a short surrender. He'd been through this too many times.

Some time later, standing outside the chic Mystery Meat, Dakota was keenly aware of being underdressed. 'Someday,' he thought to himself, 'that will all change.'
He shrugged his shoulders beneath the sports jacket and walked inside. At the concierge stand, he flashed the Johnson's letter, then followed the waitress to the secluded room. To her question, he replied, "Crown Royale on the rocks, please."
As she left, he wondered at his extravagance. "...better to make a good impression," he murmurred and settled in to await whatever comes next.

Skink was relaxing in her pad, looking over some swag she had gathered from a recent B&E. She very much looked the part of the dragon relishing its glittering golden hoard. "Not bad. Not bad at all," she said to herself. "A good start for paying back the higher-ups."
Starting nuyen = 2,600

She hears footsteps coming up to her doorway, and manages to shift back to her human form before hearing the gang's secret knock on her door. "One second!" she calls out, and throws on a silk robe. She taps out a confirmation test on the door, and gets the expected answer in reply. She opens the door to reveal a young elven street punk. He has a small piece of bling around his neck, a green "A". After ogling her antlers for a moment, he remembers what he came here for, and hands her a letter. "Boss-man says it's for you." He holds his palm out suggestively. "You want a tip, shrimp? Stuff that necklace inside your shirt when you're on the streets unless you really feel like getting slotted by some trog on nova." She gets a quick glimpse of the kid nervously reaching for his neck before she closes the door.

"Mystery Meat? Archeology? And a Johnson? What the hell have I gotten myself into? Some research is in order." Locking the door to her apartment, she puts her glasses on and looks over the letter once more.
Observe in Detail Visual Perception Test: 1 hit; Assensing Test: 3 hits

She then powers up her commlink to get some info on the restaurant itself, and what she should wear there.
Data Search (6, 1 minute) Extended Test: 2 hits, 2 hits, 1 hit, 3 hits: 4 minutes.

"The ‘Mystery Meat’ is on the upper side of the elegancy (and price) scale. But it is not as elegant as one would be underdressed in casual clothes. The waiters wear chic uniforms, the meat comes from real animals, not from clonebanks or soy. Rumours say that given two weeks notice, one can order any kind of meat and get it. For the right price." "Ugh, real meat. It had to be real meat. Looks like I'll have to bite the bull for this meet." She chuckles at her pun, but it does not soothe the feeling in her stomach provided by her vegetarian sensibilities. "Casual, eh? Guess I'll have to spend some of that money on an outift." She takes off her glasses, dons some street clothes, and puts on her holo hood, projecting an image of some antennaed headphones she'd seen in an ad to cover her antlers. She takes her powerboard out to a local street vendor and buys a knockoff ME Metal slacks and shirt combo for only Y50. She takes the outfit back to her place, puts it on, and applies some make-up to look the part of the "casual meat eater". She also changes her projection to look like a progressive hairstyle she had seen on a forum. It was called "parallel sharks" and involved parting her hair in the middle and making two swooping fauxhawks on the sides of her crown - perfect for hiding her antlers to the casual observer, though it might make her stand out in a crowd.
Disguise Test: 2 hits

She powerboards to the restaurant, loving the feeling of gravity and balance that she doesn't even feel while in her dracoform. When she arrives, she hands the board to the valet with a grin. "Don't scratch the paint," she jests. She hands the concierge the letter, and follows the waitress to the secluded dining area. Fan-see. She sits in a seat a couple spaces away from the man already there and orders a mojito. "With two limes please." She looks over to the other patron. "Name's Skink. What's your angle, omae?"

Darkon wrote:

The ‘Mystery Meat’ is on the upper side of the elegancy (and price) scale. But it is not as elegant as one would be underdressed in casual clothes. The waiters wear chic uniforms, the meat comes from real animals, not from clonebanks or soy. Rumours say that given two weeks notice, one can order any kind of meat and get it. For the right price.

If you show the concierge at the entrance your letter, he will beckon a waitress who will lead you to a secluded room. Red carpet covers the floor, the walls are painted white. A big oval table fills the center of the room. The waitress would ask if you like to order a drink.

She was there, at the door of The ‘Mystery Meat’. She changed the collor of her dress to Silver and went in.
"upon the greeting of the Waiter she responded " the pleasure is mine" and then she showed hin the letter. the very next moment she was following him to a bright Room in a style she could call classic, but it was mor then that, it was aristocrat, it had class, so she felt right at home here. She ordered the Days speciality and a wone that would go with it. Valkyrie was happy to have the privilage to be here.
Only when the man spoke Valkyrie really started to pay attention to them. A man and a female siting at the table, to low class to really be worthy to be in this room, but so was she as well, if you take away her Dress, and leave the speech patern and cultural upbringing, she still did not feel like she is worty of it.

Restless fingers tapping on the arm of his chair, Dakota looked up when the girl with hair that looked like two swooping birds entered the room with the waitress. He remained politely silent as a drink order was exchanged, then smiled at the newcomer's question.

"Call me Dakota," he offered, then said, "I'm something of a collector of artifacts. Mostly I 'treasure hunt' for the highest bidder, but I keep an eye out for, shall we say, personal acquisitions?"

Just then, another female entered. Again waiting until the new arrival was finished with the waitress, Dakota spoke up, "We were just doing introductions. I'm Dakota, I'm a treasure hunter, and I'll let the two of you speak for yourselves, of course."

Jagger wrote:

Dakota spoke up, "We were just doing introductions. I'm Dakota, I'm a treasure hunter, and I'll let the two of you speak for yourselves, of course."

Valkyrie had no intention to give her Alias out so fast in a restaurant where someone might overhear it by chance "You are a treasure hunter? ohh how fitting, struggling to get something so trivial as a name, where you know that on the street you can get a new one very fast." Valkyrie stated and turned her attention back to the plate the waiters was bringing her.

[quote=”present presence”]Locking the door to her apartment, she puts her glasses on and looks over the letter once more.
Observe in Detail Visual Perception Test: 1 hit; Assensing Test: 3 hits[/quote]

When Skink looks at the letter in the astral, she notices, that she can actually still read it. The ink itself seems to be glowing in the astral, making the written discernible, unlike it usually is the case with mundane texts. There seems to be another layer of text underneath, but as much as Skink squeezes her eyes, she can’t make out what it says. It feels like a spell in the waiting.

The waitress brings the drinks, putting each down with a smile in front of the person. “Mr Johnson will arrive in a few minutes. Would you like to order your meals in the meantime?” Her posture is friendly if businesslike, waiting patiently for an answer.

"Ah," Dakota replies smoothly, "how refreshing to meet yet another street hoodlum trying desperately to convince herself that she's something she's not...and never will be."

He smiles at the waitress and gives her his order, then turns his attention back to Skink.

"So, what interests you in an archaeological enterprise, Skink?"

The door opens and a man enters the room. He is wearing a black suit with an old fashioned, dark red tie and an equally coloured vest. His face is round, framed by brown hair and a van dyke. A detail of interest might be the staff he carries with him. It is of about shoulder length and has the carved head of a raven on the top. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. For now, you can call me Mr Johnson.”

He takes a seat at one end of the table. “I am glad you all decided to attend. Have you already ordered?” He looks at the waitress who gives a nod. “Good. I will take the steak cordon bleu with French fries.” He looks at the small group. “I can only recommend you try it. Delicious.” His grin is very sympathetic.

His gaze lingers on each of the runners for a few seconds. Then he pushes a button underneath a chandelier. Every technological connection to the outside gets cut off. “You have been recommended to me as professional and resourceful runners,” he opens. “The job I have to offer will lead you to a local museum. There you will aquire an artefact of an ancient celtic tribe. A statue of a man. You will deliver it to me, and if I am satisfied with your performance, I will make you an offer for a longer job.” The man leans back and lets his words sink in. “What do you say?” His dark eyes seem to sparkle with amusement.

Dakota motions the waitress over and changes his order to the steak cordon bleu and fries. She nods and he smiles his thanks as she walks away. Returning his attention to the Johnson, his smile widens.

"I'd say it sounds intriguing, sir. I am not at liberty to speak for my esteemed colleagues, of course, but I'm in to hear your proposal...with, that is, the understanding that my interest might dwindle should the offer prove...less than adequate."

Charisma 3 + Etiquette 2 + Negotiation (Bargaining) 4 + Trustworthy (Negotiation) 2 = 11 dice
Result= 11d6.hits(5) → [5,4,6,4,4,4,5,2,5,1,2] = (4 hits)

Darkon wrote:

The door opens and a man enters the room. He is wearing a black suit with an old fashioned, dark red tie and an equally coloured vest. His face is round, framed by brown hair and a van dyke. A detail of interest might be the staff he carries with him. It is of about shoulder length and has the carved head of a raven on the top. “Good evening ladies and gentlemen. For now, you can call me Mr Johnson.”

He takes a seat at one end of the table. “I am glad you all decided to attend. Have you already ordered?” He looks at the waitress who gives a nod. “Good. I will take the steak cordon bleu with French fries.” He looks at the small group. “I can only recommend you try it. Delicious.” His grin is very sympathetic.

His gaze lingers on each of the runners for a few seconds. Then he pushes a button underneath a chandelier. Every technological connection to the outside gets cut off. “You have been recommended to me as professional and resourceful runners,” he opens. “The job I have to offer will lead you to a local museum. There you will aquire an artefact of an ancient celtic tribe. A statue of a man. You will deliver it to me, and if I am satisfied with your performance, I will make you an offer for a longer job.” The man leans back and lets his words sink in. “What do you say?” His dark eyes seem to sparkle with amusement.

Valkyrie looked up to the Johnson, He was self-confident, that was sure. He had some taste in Clothes and looks, but what his negations where not that good, or he was just playing with them at the moment.
"With all Due Respect, Sir, You do not expect Professionals to Agree to a simple job, with the only reward being a larger job that might be in it for us if you are satisfied with our performance, that would be Ludicrous, I believe. So would you please be so kind and mention any other rewards we might receive in the event of a successfully ended task?"
She tried to sound as neutral as possible, knowing well that this was playing into his hand, but some times it was necessary, and sometimes you could turn it around just by doing the unexpected when they think they have gotten you.

The man leaned back, making a gesture indicating agreement. “Of course your efforts will be compensated. I thought that would be clear from what I wrote in the letter.” With that he pointed at one of the letters lying on the table. “I only wanted to be honest with you from the start, and to explain that this run is only the beginning. As well as a kind of test for you.” His smile was warm and charismatic. “After all, you have been recommended to me, but I do not know you yet.” With that he put five credsticks on the table. “Unfortunately for me, not everyone invited really attended. Which means there is more for you though. Each stick contains 3000 Nuyen. You can split it up evenly among you. For a quick run, this should be appropriate.”

((For your Rolls from the OOC Thread)) What Valkyrie can think of, that statue might be set up in the temporary exhibition about the celtic tribes of central europe. It’s held in the history museum here in Seattle. One of the smaller museums.

About the staff, Valkyries knowledge of history can give her no hint. But her logical mind can at least esteem that it is either an excentric walking stick, a fashion gimmick or maybe the guy is a mage and it’s his wand. Talk about size and compensation.

Darkon wrote:

The man leaned back, making a gesture indicating agreement. “Of course your efforts will be compensated. I thought that would be clear from what I wrote in the letter.” With that he pointed at one of the letters lying on the table. “I only wanted to be honest with you from the start, and to explain that this run is only the beginning. As well as a kind of test for you.” His smile was warm and charismatic. “After all, you have been recommended to me, but I do not know you yet.” With that he put five credsticks on the table. “Unfortunately for me, not everyone invited really attended. Which means there is more for you though. Each stick contains 3000 Nuyen. You can split it up evenly among you. For a quick run, this should be appropriate.”

"15k total, seems reasonable, but cant tell for sure without knowing the finer details. I hope you have some additional information for us, and, of course, the exact description on what you expect us to retrieve?" Valkyrie Changed her sitting position in part to let the Hard spoken words sink in, she was here on businesses no pleasure and she would act accordingly " of course i can not guarantee anything as this is the first time i will be working together with these two, but i trust you have asked the right people, so that should not be a problem. I assume we are ready to hear your proposal."

"Your offer is, indeed, adequate - as you say, for a trial run," Dakota replies. He does not, however, immediately reach for the credsticks. Instead, he shifts his gaze to the raven-headed staff.

"That's quite an interesting staff, sir. A totem to some spirit, if I may inquire? I must confess I know little of the astral plane, but one does pick up rumors here and there. It looks a fine piece."

(Before the Johnson enters)
Skink introduces herself. "Well, well, small world. I'm a treasure hunter, too, you see. Though it usually ends up being other people's treasure that I...acquire." Upon hearing the other elf's snobby tone, she mumbles under her breath, "Makkanagee celénit*. Who recommended this snot-nosed kindergartner for a 'run?"
(When the Johnson arrives)
Oh-ho, this dude's got wizard written all over him, and it's probably written in Latin. She is pleased with the creds dropped on the table. Five G's, that's a good start on my, uh, mortgage. Rather than begin negotiating with this Johnson, she decides to get a better look at him. An astral once-over.
Assense Aura: 2 hits

*Sperethiel dictionary.

PresentPresence wrote:

(Before the Johnson enters)
Skink introduces herself. "Well, well, small world. I'm a treasure hunter, too, you see. Though it usually ends up being other people's treasure that I...acquire." Upon hearing the other elf's snobby tone, she mumbles under her breath, "Makkanagee celénit*. Who recommended this snot-nosed kindergartner for a 'run?"

Valkyrie ignores this comment, even thou she has the basic knowledge in her tribes language, she prefers to use it only for certain events or when she is sure it can be of benefit. Discussing someone who actually might understand what they are speaking about was not one of the reasons.

When the discussion starts with the Johnson, Valkyrie hands her new team-mates a simple piece of paper
on it it stands >You can reach me with this number [***] We have to work together if we want to raise our profits on this job, then I for one would rather have more cash for the same amount of work, would you not?<

Skink takes the piece of paper and taps the number into her commlink. I'd rather shuttle you off to the first Tamanous member I saw, but I guess we'll have to work together for this job. Not like I need you to tell me that. She writes her own commcode on the paper and passes it to the treasure hunter.

Kouryuu.LV wrote:

" of course i can not guarantee anything as this is the first time i will be working together with these two, but i trust you have asked the right people, so that should not be a problem. I assume we are ready to hear your proposal."

"I will give you all necessary information when you agree to the job. I assure you, it is doable with the skills you posess. Or better, the skills I have been told you have."

Jagger wrote:

"That's quite an interesting staff, sir. A totem to some spirit, if I may inquire? I must confess I know little of the astral plane, but one does pick up rumors here and there. It looks a fine piece."

"It is an old and valued possession of mine. In fact, it predates the awakening almost a decade." He pets the raven head affectionately. "And indeed Raven here has been of help on countless ocassions."

When Skink looks at the Johnsons aura she finds... nothing. No aura. Not even a mundane one. As if he'd be a piece of plastic. The staff although has a slight magical aura. It might be a focus.

Taking the slip of paper from the annoying elf girl, Dakota tucks it into a pocket without looking at it. It is quite rude to pass notes while discussing a job with a Johnson, and Dakota tries to maintain decorum despite distractions.

"Quite interesting. As for the job, I believe we all may benefit from your generous offer."

Dakota takes up his glass and raises it, glancing around at Skink and the as yet anonymous member of their group.

"I propose a toast to this and future mutual enterprises."

Charisma 3 + Etiquette 2
Result= 5d6.hits(5) → [6,6,4,4,3] = (2 hits)

Look, you rubes may be up for taking a job without any information, but I'm not that desperate. Time to put on my best Johnson voice. "I understand, sir, that you want to keep a professional secrecy maintained for this mission, but it is difficult to accept an offer that we know little about. Perhaps you could tell us what kind of resources other than nuyen you are willing to offer to ensure the proper completion of the mission." Then we can draw our own conclusions on the true nature of the 'run.
Negotiation Test: 2 hits

But there's something still bothering Skink. What the frag is up with this Johnson's aura? His staff is magic, for sure, but this guy looks...inorganic. What could make a living being's aura look like that?
Magical Knowledge Test: 1 hit

"I understand that even ressourceful runners need ressources." He chuckled, then pulled a datachip from his pocket. "On this you will find blueprints of the museum, photographs of the statue and a rough draft of the security measures. The hacker it seems has declined my invitation. I will look for a substitute and contact you." He made an apologetic shrug. "If you need a car for transportation, I know someone who sells used cars at good prices. Although you will see that the statue is not very big." He then takes his glass and raises it towards the three runners.

"To future enterprises. And to good runs."

Skink can only imagine the J either being a projection of some kind, but then how does he hold the staff? Or that he somehow has concealed his aura. You have heard some very skilled magicians can do that.

Skink raises her glass in unison with the Johnson. "Cheers." With her other hand she types a message to her teammates on her commlink.
<<We need to have a war counsel, chummers. My pad will suffice. Here's the coordinates:>>
When she had finished her message, she takes the datachip off of the table and wraps it in a bit of tin foil. "See you soon, omae."