Don't feed after midnight

GM: Blackheart
Players: Scurry, Lost, Posh
Synopsis: The shadowrunners are sent on a poaching expedition to a small town near Boulder to grab a cute little creature for little Johnny’s birthday party. They find out that a city has been ravaged by chaotic little beasties and have a car crash that was nearly fatal.
Date: May 3, 2075



Meeting up in a hotel restaurant near the edge of downtown, the Johnson seems to have already begun his meal and is just enjoying his coffee after dessert when the shadowrunners arrive.

The Johnson is an older man with salt and pepper hair and bags under his eyes, always checking his pocsec to fondly look at a picture of little Johnny and his much younger wife, Jenny. "Good evening, I have gathered you together for a task. A task I hope you can keep on the down low, being runners of the shadows and all." He looks nervously to his guard, a beefy looking ork who seems to have early onset parkinsons disease by the way he shakes, but that could just be from how wired up he is. "I'm willing to compensate quite handsomely for this mission, as it involves bending some of the rules of certain states, which, I understand is your speciality."

After another glance at his pocsec, and a gesture to the ork bodyguard, and the shaky meta's movements smooth out as he steps forward to hand out a flimsiplast datasheet. On it is a picture of an adorable fuzzy little creature. Almost humanoid with brown and white colouring. Big, pointed ears and large, doe like eyes and a clever smile. "This is a mogwai. I have learned that there are some living in the Boulder region. With the spring rains comes their breeding season, so it should be easy to find them in abundance. They are cute, and harmless," He explains, "So I don't anticipate much trouble in capturing one, but smuggling creatures over borders can be difficult, so I'm willing to compensate you to the tune of 30,000 Nuyen for your efforts."

Scurry arrives with company, and he acknowledges the Jay with polite formality, but the Q&A is always better left to Posh.

Posh gives a little grin. "Hmm," she says, with a little chuckle, diverted by the utter cuteness of the animal. "Does it taste good?" she asks. "No matter, in any case, I think that sounds like the kind of payday I'm eager to get out of bed for," she says. "Exactly what do you need done - exactly what condition do you need us to accomplish in order to get us paid?" she asks. "I mean, just give me a quick sketch of exactly those conditions. So you want us to deliver you a mogwai to where, exactly?" she asks.

After sitting silently and listening to the Johnson's pitch, Lost purses her lips thoughtfully, transitioning into the expression in an attempt to keep herself from 'awwing' at the picture of the adorable little critter. She gives a glance toward Scurry and Posh in turn. Focusing on the Johnson again, she adds to Posh's query, "And is there anything else you can tell us about this creature, are they social or easily domesticated?"

«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Paranormal Animals for "Do I know anything about them?":
2 3 9
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Biology for "What have I heard about Mogwai?":
1 1 4 11
You paged Lost with 'You've heard the name once or twice in passing. Some believe they bring good luck, others believe they are a curse.'.

«OOC» Blackheart says, "does biology cover paranormals?"

«OOC» Scurry says, "Can't hurt to try!"

You paged Scurry with 'with an 11, why not? You know they like to breed in the spring when there's lots and lots of rain :)'.

"My assistant here," Mr. Johnson gestures to the ork, who, upon further inspection has scars up and down his hairy forarms, little bald spots here and there, and is missing a ring finger. "Will be waiting for you at this address. It is just inside the USCAS sector." At the questions, the Johnson cants his head to one side and smiles at his pocsec. "Oh, this will be a gift to my son, if you please, I would like it to arrive unharmed and content." He looks to Lost, "I've been lead to believe they are very social. They make the perfect pet for a perfect boy."

At this, the ork twitches.

Posh nods. "All right," she says, allowing an appropriately awkward pause, and a knowing look to the ork. "I see," she says. "All right then," she says. "We accept the job, but in order to help arrange delivery details, can we speak with your associate in private as well, after we are done?" she asks. "Do you have appropriate facilities to house the mogwai on arrival?" she asks.

"What properly pacifies a mogwai?" Scurry says. "Do they like… a particular type of food?"

Lost smiles at the J, nodding her thanks for the answer. Her eyes dart in the direction of the twitching ork before she gives a nod in agreement with Posh, leaning back in her seat now as the conversation shifts more towards negotiation, where Posh will likely take the lead.

"Of course, my assistant is an expert with all manner of details," Mr. Johnson smiles. "I think a normal pet carrier should suffice, they are supposedly very docile and friendly," he says, nodding his head as he sips his coffee, and then nibbles on a cookie, offering the plate to the runners. To Scurry's question, he shrugs his shoulders, "I assume any sort of kibble will suffice. Maybe bring some milk bones with you?" he suggests.

"This all seems very familiar," Scurry asides to Lost without an expression change.

"True. They're a damn sight cuter than a devil rat, though." Lost agrees, keeping her voice low and directed toward Scurry, even as she smiles at the J and takes an offered cookie and nibbles on it daintily. "I'm sure they'll turn out to be just as nasty in the end though." She laments, a wry grin on her lips.

Posh glances at lost. "They are rather cude, but…we didn't get a chance to see his teeth," she says, folding her arms. "oh well," she says. "In for a penny, in for a pound," she says, with a smile to the J, then to the assistant who happens to be an ork. "So," she says. "Shall we?" she asks.

When she gets a little privacy, Posh will consult with the ork to see if he has facilities to receive the animal in, any vehicles or the like, and if they'd spring for a purpose bought delivery van to transport and house the critter conveniently. Posh recommends a Bulldoc Sec, and she'd offer a very reasonable price!

"Stanley, please answer their questions as you walk them out, I need to go wash up before we get home," Mr. Johnson says as he stands up and smiles to the runners, "It's been a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to toasting your success in this endevour," with a little nod, he turns and heads for the washroom at the back.

Stanley blinks and nods his head, "Of course, Mr. Johnson," he says, with an afrikaans accent before gesturing towards the door, his smooth movments looking surreal when he does move. "Right this way, please?"

Scurry follows along, his eyes on the orc. He has no enhancements himself, so Scurry can only arch a brow in question to Posh.

Lost moseys along behind the ork as well, worrying at her bottom lip a bit as if troubled by something. Eventually she shakes it off before turning toward Posh, giving a shrug, and mouthing the words 'Toothless moneybag'. If, indeed, it was the J's teeth Posh had wished to see.

Scurry presses his lips into a thin, thin line… must not smile…

Posh gives a shrug at Lost, and then nods to Stanley. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Stanley," she says, to fill the space while she moves to follow. She grins, quite brightly.
Scurry is apparently playing the muscle to Posh's face, and he is not good at it. For one thing, he enjoys— visibly— the ambiance of fine dining. And for another, he looks genuinely happy in the atmosphere here.
Stanley leads the group out front and says some words to the hotel's valet, who hops to to run and gather their car from the parkade. He waits under the shelter from the spittling rain and clasps his hands before his belt, feeling self conscious as everyone had been staring at his missing finger earlier. "You're wondering why I'm missing a finger?" he asks. "Mr. Johnson's a great guy, loves his family. But little Johnny likes animals. Maybe a bit too much. It's nothing serious, but one day he came home with a pet snake. Was just a little thing, kinda ugly.. About the third time it molted on us, we found out it wasn't no ordinary snake. Turned out to be a rockworm.." Stanley takes a breath and shakes his head. "I've hunted just about everything that walks the earth—twice, but having one of those wiggling fuckas tearing through a child's bedroom isn't something I'd like to do again."

Lost nods to Stanley as he leads on, bringing up the rear of the group She seems to be finished with the asides, regarding the ork with a relaxed smile. Briefly, she wrinkles her nose in reaction to the weather before turning back to Stanley, listening to his story with rapt attention, "Mmm… any chance of a repeat with one of these mogwai? I remember hearing a few things about them, but you seem like a man with a lot of experience in the field… what do you know about these things?"

«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 5 vs TN 6 for "Stanley's Parazoology vs exotic para creature":
1 3 5 10 15 = 2 Successes

Posh nods. "So he's not the little angel that he's cracked up to be. Big surprise," Posh says with a little grin. "So we should find out what exactly a mogwai is, I suppose," she says, rather thoughtfully. "I don't really have any contacts I could ask too much, aside from my rather generic fixer," she says. "Think this is worthwhile seeing if the target is a specific threat, at least too much.

"I don't know a lot about these things, they're native to asia or some such and are only rarely spotted in the Americas. But," he gestures to the flimsiplast sheet, "they're harmless in their natural form if you take care of em. Don't let them eat after midnight, otherwise they get mean," he says. "But, stick to the rules, and they're little angels."

"No eating after midnight?" Scurry says, looking surprised. "That's just so odd. I mean they're cute, but, you know… Hard to take care of." He stares at Stanley's knub, and then smiles brokenly to try and save face. "Well, as long as we know where to go, let's head out and capture ourselves a mogwump."

Lost shoots Stanley a winning smile, "Well thanks, Stanley. You're a real peach. So. Don't let them eat after midnight and take good care of them. Sounds easy enough." With another glance at toward the rain puddling on the street, she asks, "Don't suppose there's any chance of the rain letting up anytime soon? A hunt in the backwoods would be considerably more pleasant without rain, after all."
"Think of it as an opportunity to wear leather," Scurry murmurs. "I wonder if we can't find a good song about this. "Spring fling, gonna go a-mog-wump-hun-ting!"" Scurry begins to scat like a 30's jazz singer. "Skiddley-doo-bee-doop!"

Posh glances at Scurry. "Leather in the rain? Eww, I don't think so," she says. "These guys are fuzzy - there any information about coat keeping? Do they get ornery if it's excesssively moist?" she asks.

"It's mating season," Scurry says. "Either leather or a blast shield."

Stanley smirks at Scurry's singing as the car pulls around. "You be careful out there. Boulder's crawling with all sorts of nightmare fuel," he says, glancing over as Mr. Johnson emerges from the hotel doors. The valet opens the back door of the luxury car for the older man and Stanley begins walking around to the driver side. "I don't know anything about that, I imagine they stink like wet dog? I'll be monitoring the phone number on the sheet. Let me know when you're back in town." With that, the ork slides into the car and they drive away into the evening traffic.

"Skiddley-doo-be-doop, boopity-boop-be-doop!" Scurry whistles to himself.

FF to the road trip

=====================> SIN Information for Posh (#11342) <=====================
SIN: PUB-11342-000Y76-000AY5-I74
Name: Vivian Lane
Rating: 6
Created: Thu Nov 6 08:49:30 2014
Player: Vera (#11342)
GM Note: Matured to R5 on November 4, 2074.


Posh almost looks tickled as she presents herself to the group all brunette and bronzered. She's got with her a number of civilian sport rifles, of the type most popular in Pueblo if you're not going for a bow - which most don't. Pueblo aren't Awakened at a rate higher than anyone else, after all. She decides to hold onto the rifles, because, as she explains to the group, "You're a party of rich idiots, and I'll be your guide. Can you pretend to be a rich idiot, Scurry?" she asks.

Scurry bites his lip and shoots Posh a worried glance. He doesn't look certain. "This doesn't look like the restaurant anymore," He says, still uncertain. "Are we going to choose our own mogwump to shoot for dinner?"

Lost doesn't exactly clean up like an experienced hunter either. Her full camo suit is brand new, but that only helps add to the authenticity of the cover story Posh has cooked up. She nudges Scurry gently in the ribs again, "If you're going to drink on this little excursion, dear, at least learn to handle your liquor."

"I was drinking for /us/," Scurry says archly. "It IS our anniversary. I had to drink both glasses of wine at dinner. It was /awful/," He exaggerates. "When I sent back the food, the waiter was so upset it was obvious he was offended."

The trip through the border isn't too difficult, thanks to Vivian Lane being a registered parahunter. Lost and Scurry both get travel passes for their excursion, and the whole ordeal only takes about an hour to organize. Once out of the city, the drive is a couple of hours to the location mentioned on the flimsiplast, but a few miles away from the indicated town, there is a road block. Pueblo Security Enterprises cars are blocking the road, emergency beacons on, with officers pulling cars over and directing them back the way they came.

Posh gives a quick grin. "All right, you two. I'm going to go haggle with this guy to rent a land cruiser. The two of you…figure out how we can find this mogwai and secure it. You going to use some of that fancy stunning magic?" she asks. "Plus, we might be out in an…active area, so also a way you can split those duties, of figuring that out, would be perfect."

"We could stun it, or I could levitate it into a cage?" Scurry asks, glancing between Lost and Posh. "But it appears we have some bureaucracy to cut through first. What's this traffic jam about?"

"That's because you sent the food back directly AT him, and at speed." Lost says tersely, giving Scurry a sidelong glance as she tries her best not to grin. "And you only drank for both of us because I never got a crack at the wine." She replies, turning away disinterestedly. After making it through the border successfully, she relaxes, but tenses a bit once the roadblock comes into view. Looking to Posh, she grins, "Hmm. Let me guess, we need to go that way." She gives a nod to Posh before turning to Scurry, "Well, one of us can stay in the vehicle and scout astrally while the other does the actually hunting. Stunning it is the best option, I think. We just gotta find one or two of the little guys first."

«OOC» Blackheart says, "do either of you have magical rumour skills? or geography skills?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Magic Rumors for "I might be in the know!":
1 2 5

«OOC» Blackheart says, "woo! It's only tn 4 to know that boulder is a hotspot of paranormal stuff going on. Leaving your body in a car unoccupied by a soul would be a bad life choice."
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Magic Rumors:
3 8
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Smuggling Routes:
1 2 4 4

Lost blinks, shaking her head as if suddenly remembering something, "That's right… Boulder's a bit of a hot spot, so leaving your body isn't exactly a great idea. Luckily, I've got an air elemental on call who can do our scouting for us." She notes, humming to herself briefly before nodding toward the roadblock and looking to Posh, "So, how should we play it? Think the tourist act will be enough to get us past?"

"I wonder if they're trying to keep people out for exactly the reason we're trying to get in," Scurry speculates as he looks forward.

The group of runners is still a little ways back from the road block. The roadblock consists of two PSE cruisers with two officers in reflective vests warding people away. In the distance, you can see a faint glow against the heavy, low clouds, and the scent of smoke can be detected in the air when the breeze shifts just right. According to the map, the fire must be near the town that Mr. Johnson indicated had the adorable little mogwup.

Lost mutters something to herself in Sperethiel before looking to Scurry, "As I was saying earlier… if that's the case, then these mogwai are indeed far less pleasant than they look." After taking a moment to assess the situation, though, she nods, "Looks like there's a fire, doesn't it? In that case, if we can get up the road a bit, we should be able to get where we need to be on foot, go around the roadblock." She shrugs before looking to Posh, "Though, it might be easier to go through them with a bribe and a smile?"

Posh glances at the others for a moment, leaving the rifles in the car. She gets up and moves to approach the roadblock with a big smile. "No need for a bribe, I shouldn't think," she says. "The Pueblo authorities tend to have a hands off attitude. They're likely to warn us of the danger - probably shouldn't even care about making us sign a release," And so she heads over to the PSE cruisers, looking to see how 'rural' these Pueblo cops are - do they tend towards the plains enforcer type, or urbanized?

Scurry does his best to look uncertain in his camo fatigues, glancing between Lost, Posh… and then turning to his Pocsec, and then viewing the weather report on his pocsec to find out when it will stop raining on his pocsec. "This blasted weather," He says to Lost. "I'm in want of a parasol."

Lost nods vaguely at Scurry while immersing herself in her own PocSec. Likely setting up an affair or something equally scandalous. In any case, she does her best to look bored, yawning on occasion, mixing things up with a look of veiled disdain at Scurry, as if the look was serving as punctuation for her text messages. "Parasols are for the sun, dear." She notes idly, after a long moment has passed.

"Wasn't there a timezone change?" Scurry asks, oblivious to both Lost's looks and, apparently, geography. "We're no longer anywhere with buildings, I'm sure that means we've moved quite a distance."

«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 2 vs TN 4:
2 2 = 0 Successes

April showers bring spring flowers, after all. Fortunately for Scurry, the rain isn't bad, just a light drizzle, a mist, really, which is unfortunate for the town with the fire up ahead. As Posh slips out of the van and wanders up to the two PSE officers, one of them looks at the elf and with a calm professional demeanor, "Ma'am, please return to your vehicle, there is a fire up ahead, a train derailed on its way through town," he explains. "Emergency crews are on the scene, and everything should be sorted out quickly," he says, gesturing back to the road, "If you head back down that way, you can spend the night in a motel and wait for things to get under control," he suggests, very helpfully, though it seems that there may be more to the story than the highway patrolman is telling.

Lost heaves a sigh, shaking her head at Scurry, "No, dear. We're in the same timezone, we've just moved out into what they call 'the country'." She wrinkles her nose, looking out at the misty environs with a withering gaze. After a moment, she shakes her head and notes, "I don't like it. There aren't enough bars." Her attention immediately turns back to her PocSec, thumbs tapping away at breakneck speed.

Posh nods to the highway patrolman. "Thanks, and I appreciate it, but these idiots I've got with me are a big payday. Their B&B is a long drive away, and," Posh looks a little sheepish. "I'd be out a big payday. I mean, taking them by a fire would be even better," she says, rolling her eyes a bit, shrugging. "Tourists, you know?" she asks - like many second generation Pueblos, Vivian still grew up in American culture.

«OOC» Blackheart says, "hmmm, Negotiation TN 8 to convince the cop to let you through into the disaster zone"

"Motel?" Scurry asks of Lost, that word actually breaking the hold his Pocsec has over him. "Is that Pueblo for something? It isn't Latin for antyhing."

«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Negotiation (Fast Talk) vs TN 8:
2 4 5 5 5 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Negotiation (Fast Talk) vs TN 8 for "KP1":
1 2 7 9 11 = 2 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 1 vs TN 8 for "Outside, so pheremones are halved":
1 1 2 3 3 3 4 4 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 1 vs TN 8 for "Outside, so pheremones are halved KP 1":
1 3 4 5 5 8 9 10 = 3 Successes

"Excuse me," Scurry says, and then he raises his hand… to snap his fingers twice. "Excuse me? We are not going back anywhere. Do you have any idea how long the drive was? And are you asking us to drive back for another night and then spend our night sleeping for the day" He narrows his expression "Just to come back at night? I think not. It would be better PR to say that the fire is coming under control and tourism is resuming. That way, you get to sound like you're in control. Trust me, she does PR for a living." He indicates Lost. It doesn't even occur to him that there will be disagreement, as he immediately goes back to his pocsec until Posh carries on.

Posh just turns and gives her most desperate, hopeful look. "I've been with them for three days. Three days, Officer. Please don't make me have to give them a refund," she says. Bigeyes. Superbigeyes. And then, at the right moment, she directs her cybereyes to moisten 40 percent. For just the right amount of shimmer.

Lost doesn't look up from her PocSec, merely giving an imperceptible nod along with a short, quiet sound of verbal agreement. It's surprising the device doesn't catch on fire, making it look as though she's either remotely wrangling a crisis. Or just engaging in a saucy sexting affair. Could be any manner of things, not that she's giving anything away from her expression.

"Well, if it's an emergency…" The patrolman rubs his chin as he considers things, and that hot elf talking about making a big pay day.. He doesn't want to look like a jerk for the hot elf, after all. "Okay, look. If you stay outside of the actual town, take the range road for a detour.." He looks past Posh, there's only a couple of cars, "You promise you aren't heading into town?" he asks quietly, not wanting his rookie partner to notice, he's off up there helping the next car in line. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but there are some critters on the loose. Dangerous stuff. Promise you aren't going to stop until you're clear of the town?"

Lost heaves a sigh, shaking her head at Scurry, "No, dear. We're in the same timezone, we've just moved out into what they call 'the country'." She wrinkles her nose, looking out at the misty environs with a withering gaze. After a moment, she shakes her head and notes, "I don't like it. There aren't enough bars." Her attention immediately turns back to her PocSec, thumbs tapping away at breakneck speed.
«OOC» Blackheart says, "oh, sorry, the cops do appear to be competent looking. They have light sec armour with high visibility vests over them."
Posh nods to the highway patrolman. "Thanks, and I appreciate it, but these idiots I've got with me are a big payday. Their B&B is a long drive away, and," Posh looks a little sheepish. "I'd be out a big payday. I mean, taking them by a fire would be even better," she says, rolling her eyes a bit, shrugging. "Tourists, you know?" she asks - like many second generation Pueblos, Vivian still grew up in American culture.
«OOC» Blackheart says, "hmmm, Negotiation TN 8 to convince the cop to let you through into the disaster zone"
"Motel?" Scurry asks of Lost, that word actually breaking the hold his Pocsec has over him. "Is that Pueblo for something? It isn't Latin for antyhing."
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Negotiation (Fast Talk) vs TN 8:
2 4 5 5 5 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Negotiation (Fast Talk) vs TN 8 for "KP1":
1 2 7 9 11 = 2 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 1 vs TN 8 for "Outside, so pheremones are halved":
1 1 2 3 3 3 4 4 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 1 vs TN 8 for "Outside, so pheremones are halved KP 1":
1 3 4 5 5 8 9 10 = 3 Successes
«OOC» Blackheart says, "that poor cop"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "pose bamboozling!"
«OOC» Scurry poses.
"Excuse me," Scurry says, and then he raises his hand… to snap his fingers twice. "Excuse me? We are not going back anywhere. Do you have any idea how long the drive was? And are you asking us to drive back for another night and then spend our night sleeping for the day" He narrows his expression "Just to come back at night? I think not. It would be better PR to say that the fire is coming under control and tourism is resuming. That way, you get to sound like you're in control. Trust me, she does PR for a living." He indicates Lost. It doesn't even occur to him that there will be disagreement, as he immediately goes back to his pocsec until Posh carries on.
Posh just turns and gives her most desperate, hopeful look. "I've been with them for three days. Three days, Officer. Please don't make me have to give them a refund," she says. Bigeyes. Superbigeyes. And then, at the right moment, she directs her cybereyes to moisten 40 percent. For just the right amount of shimmer.

Lost doesn't look up from her PocSec, merely giving an imperceptible nod along with a short, quiet sound of verbal agreement. It's surprising the device doesn't catch on fire, making it look as though she's either remotely wrangling a crisis. Or just engaging in a saucy sexting affair. Could be any manner of things, not that she's giving anything away from her expression.

"Well, if it's an emergency…" The patrolman rubs his chin as he considers things, and that hot elf talking about making a big pay day.. He doesn't want to look like a jerk for the hot elf, after all. "Okay, look. If you stay outside of the actual town, take the range road for a detour.." He looks past Posh, there's only a couple of cars, "You promise you aren't heading into town?" he asks quietly, not wanting his rookie partner to notice, he's off up there helping the next car in line. "I shouldn't be telling you this, but there are some critters on the loose. Dangerous stuff. Promise you aren't going to stop until you're clear of the town?"

Posh nods. "We'll do our best!" she says. "But yeah…you know, being able to spot a dangerous critter is the kind of thing that's gonna get me a nice tip, you know?" she asks. "Look, no matter what, this isn't your deal. Thanks so much, Officer," she says, backing away. Gratefully. "We'll take the range road. And thanks."

"Darling, what's your Tuesday look like? Simon was disemboweled on vacation in Barcelona," Scurry says, flipping through his pocsec. "I don't really want to attend the funeral, and these are /your/ friends."

The officer nods his head, and proceeds to the next car in line, conveniently turning his back on the van full of shadowrunners.

What?" Lost asks, suddenly snapping back to reality. To an extent, at least, "How did it happen? No… nevermind, I don't want to know. It'll just end up being another mess I'll have to clean up." She seethes, clenching her PocSec tightly in a white-knuckled grip. Calming back down, she shakes her head, "And I don't want to go either… we'll just have to send an impressive floral arrangement. For appearances sake." The exact state of her schedule on Tuesday is left a mystery. Once the roadblock is passed, she nods, "Alright. Let's go wrangle us a mogwai. Preferably without any faces getting chewed off."

Posh gives a grin. "Anyway, yes. Let's. We should be able to see what we can do when we get a little closer," she says, nodding to Lost, and waving to the cops, before starting the vehicle and getting things moving, heading towards the outskirts of that nightmare town.

"So it seems that whatever these critters are, they've gone rogue, somehow. Someone get a weather report - we got rain coming?" she asks.
«Plot» Blackheart says, "The weather report calls for scattered showers, 70 percent POP"

"Well, let's see if we can't find a good vantage point somewhere, somewhere we'll be out of sight. Then I can send an elemental out to scout, see if we can't get eyes on what we're looking for." She pulls up a weather report on her PocSec, "Pretty high chance of rain," She notes, bleakly, "So, might as well stay dry in the car until we figure out where we need to go."

"I can also send out an air elemental to scout," Scurry adds. "Do you want to split the field? I take east, you take west, sort of thing?"

Posh continues to drive, sticking to the back road as promised, trying to get at least a visual on the town. To that end, there's at least the rifle scopes that can be used to check, as the Remingtons come with them standard.
«OOC» Blackheart says, "okay, give me perception rolls with whatever mods you have available"
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Intelligence for "remove range penalties, thermographic":
1 1 3 3 4 4 4 4
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence for "Standard racial low-light.":
1 2 4 5 5 10

«Plot» Posh says, "Anyone can try a rifle, I brought them from my stash. They're the Rugers that have the scopes."
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342)'s Armory (#10474) has the Voucher Item 17 The Armory with the following information:
----------—[ Shadowrun Denver ]-
=============================> Item 17 on Armory <=============================
Item Name: The Armory
Item Type: ITEM
Quantity: 1
Fractional OK: No
Clonable: No
Players Can Link: No
Created For: Mirage (#5721)
Created By: Mirage (#5721)
IC Location: Carried
-----> Description for Item <------
This item is owned by: Posh (#11342)
Transfer of ownership requires staff approval of transaction.
-----> GM Notes for Item <-----
Jan 1 21:20 This item represents an entire armory of weapons, explosives,
and ammunitions. The armory is for personal use only, it is not
intended for giving away portions or crafting, etc. The point of
the armory is for use in plots. The 'value' of the armory is
100k, SI 1, avail 8.
Jan 1 21:23 During plots, the marked owner of the armory may use it to have
access to a reasonable amount of standard issue firearms,
explosives, and ammunitions of avail 8 or lower, as long as they
are not listed in this item's banned notes. Use of the armory
does not consume the armory.
Jan 1 21:29 Banned: Demolition Compounds, including C4, C12, FAE, etc.
Jan 1 21:30 Banned: Chemicals, including chemicals in splash grenades.
Jan 1 21:52 Staff reserves the right to add additional items to the banned
list should something prove abusive.


You paged Lost with 'As you're doing the slow drive around, you spot some headlights through the trees, and the quick flashes of what might be automatic gunfire in the distance.. It looks like the headlights are heading for the source of the gunfire and then… the gunfire stops.'.
Lost shifts in her seat suddenly and points through the foilage, "Hey, there!" She begins, trying to get the group's attention, "Definitely some headlights out there, and I think I might've seen some gunfire too. Anyone else see it?" She asks, glancing to Scurry and Posh in turn, "I don't know if we should head toward it or away from it…"
"Yeeeeeeah," Scurry says slowly. "I guess we never asked how the fire got started, did we?"
"I suppose if we hear gunfire we shouldn't necessarily run away. Let's sort of slowly approach. We haven't made any enemies yet; let's figure out what's going on," suggests Posh. "They're unlikely to just open fire on us on sight, right?" she says, perhaps a little naively.

«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 4 vs TN 6 for "Armor F6":
1 2 3 3 3 4 4 5 7 11 17 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 6:
3 7 10 = 2 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Willpower + 2 vs TN 3 for "Drain Resisting +2M":
1 2 3 4 4 5 5 9 = 6 Successes

"Well, I don't think the mogwais are the ones doing the shooting…" Lost notes with a shrug, "But it's worth checking out… cautiously. After all, if there happen to be other mogwai hunters out here, that would mean we're on the right track." She seems, content, for the moment, to go along with Posh in hoping for the best.

As the intrepid shadowrunners look for a way in, they spot a driveway on the gravel road. The mailbox has an assortment of environmentalist stickers on it, a couple of them with the Terra First! logo. The headlights can be seen now and again, looking down the driveway. After a moment or two, it becomes clear that a pickup truck is circling the home at the end of the driveway, bouncing recklessly over lawn furniture. On closer inspection, it appears that there is a PSE employee stuck to the front bumper, flack jacket caught on the mangled grill of the truck.

Posh glances at the pickup truck, looking at the others. "Look," she says. "We've got to stop them," she says. "Anyone any good with these rifles?" she asks. "Dammit, I wish I'd remembered to bring some real weapons. This is a cakewalk," she says, grumbling a little bit…

«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls 1 for "1-3 is gel, 4-6 is EXEX, loaded in arms":
5
Posh grins. "At least I'm loaded up with EXEX," she says. "So I'm ready to rumble on a pickup truck."

«Plot» Posh says, "The hunting rifles would be loaded with hollowpoints. I'm talking about Posh's gun-arms."

"Terra first?" Scurry says, after chanting in Latin to bring his Armor shield up. "NO… I don't make use of rifles much. Pistols yes, rifles no. And magic preferably over all." He pauses. "But… what is Terra First?"

"I'm not much good with a gun either," Lost replies with a shake of her head, "But anyone in sight can be hit with a stunbolt easily enough." She continues with a slight grin, "All I can tell you about Terra First, though… I had a friend who got mixed up with them. Didn't see her much after that, and eventually stopped seeing her entirely." She shrugs, "For whatever that's worth, at least."

"Three elves set upon a journey on a misty, stormy night…" Scurry begins glumly.

Posh gives a little frown. "Well, then," she says. "I think unfortunately we might find it a good idea to stop them. There's no reason that we shouldn't be friendly to the PSE, and I think we'd do best to rescue that guy," she says. "I think given the situation it might be appropriate to engage the occupants," she says. "And we shouldn't hold back at all. I suppose let's start with stunbolts, but I'm lethal if I have to be. We've all been learning some medicine, and I've got a savior in my bag," she says. "Let's see if we can't get a little PSE gratitude to help accomplish this mission."

«OOC» Blackheart says, "please give me perception tests as you pull in"

"You make it sound like we should be wearing tunics and leggings and carrying longbows…" Lost replies with a smirk, elbowing Scurry in the ribs playfully. Turning to Posh, she nods, "Good idea. This is their turf after all, they're likely to know where the mogwai are. And who knows, as a show of gratitude, they might be willing to look the other way while we smuggle a live, rare, exotic creature across their border."
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence for "Standard Elven mods":
1 1 1 2 2 4
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence for "Standard Elven mods KP1":
1 3 4 4 5 5
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Intelligence for "not looking through a scope, that would be too suspicious, thermographic":
1 1 1 2 2 2 4 7

The bouncing truck comes around once again and skidds to a halt, facing off with the rental van as it pulls in from the gravel road. It pauses there for a moment or two, the engine revving loudly. Lost can make out vague shapes, but the bright headlights make it difficult. Posh's thermographic vision will tell that the PSE trooper caught on the bumper is still warm, (though if he survives, might need new cyber legs) the engine block is blazing hot, and there are several small signatures clinging on to the side of the truck. After the brief pause, the truck's engine roars and it comes tumbling down the driveway like a drunk driver was at the wheel, every bounce seems to shed another signature into the bushes on either side of the driveway.
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Intelligence:
1 3 3 5 5 8

«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Car vs TN 6 for "Ramming, trying not to hit the guy on their bumper!":
1 2 3 4 4 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Car vs TN 6 for "Ramming, trying not to hit the guy on their bumper! eep kp!":
1 3 4 5 10 = 1 Success

"Uh… hmm." Lost begins, looking perplexed, "That doesn't look good, does it?" She asks rhetorically, tensing in her seat and grabbing at the oh-shit handle, eyes widening as the truck trundles toward them at speed.
"You know," Scurry says suddenly, as is apparently becoming one of his more common characteristics, "I can totally mask this vehicle and make us invisible."
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 8 for "Driving blind and gremlins don't really know how to drive so well.. :)":
1 3 4 5 = 0 Successes
«Plot» Blackheart says, "were you trying to ram them back?"
«Plot» Blackheart says, "or evade them?"
«Plot» Both vehicles are at speed 40 when they hit.
Scurry puts on his seatbelt.
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 8 for "Gremlin's truck resisting S damage":
1 2 5 11 = 1 Success
«OOC» Blackheart says, "you can roll for your rental van as well"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "a superkombi has 4 body"
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 8 for "Rental van resisting the ramming!":
1 3 4 14 = 1 Success
«OOC» Scurry says, "May I roll?"
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Okay, the Van takes S damage. Everyone inside can resist an 8S attack. Since Scurry's wearing a seatbelt he takes 8M."
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Body + 6 vs TN 8:
1 1 2 2 3 3 4 4 5 8 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Body vs TN 8 for "Ouch.":
2 2 4 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Body vs TN 8 for "Ouch. KP2":
2 5 9 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Body vs TN 8 for "Ouchies! I thought I'd have more successes!":
2 3 3 3 5 5 7 9 11 = 2 Successes
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Posh and Scurry take M damage, Lost takes S :("
It's badly done. The rented van smashed into the Mogwai leaves Posh with a badly wrenched knee and a severe facial contusion from when she smashed her face into the steering column. Posh grunts harshly as the van struggles to even remain operating, Posh raising one elbow in the general direction of the mogwai-driven vehicle.
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Posh, please make a crash test at TN 7 + your wound modifier :/"
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Car vs TN 9:
1 4 4 5 8 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Car vs TN 9 for "kp 1":
2 2 4 5 5 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Car vs TN 9 for "kp 3":
2 2 5 8 9 = 1 Success
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Awesome, you succeed in not wrapping the mangled van around a tree as you bounce off the truck!"
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 14 for "Gremlins trying to not die in the auto accident":
1 2 3 5 = 0 Successes
The truck isn't so lucky as the van. In the game of chicken, with both vehicles speeding down the gravel road, Posh manages to jerk to the side just in time to avoid smooshing the policeman caught on the bumper. The impact is still jarring—The truck spins out of controll, little bodies flying this way and that with high pitched screams before thwumping into trees and rocky road. The truck bounces wildly into the ditch and when everyone looks back, it's wrapped around a tree, steam shooting out from the hood.

Lost finds herself suddenly and violently thrown forward into the passenger side dash, smacking her forehead hard enough to leave her with a nasty looking bruise that's quickly beginning to swell, not to mention a pretty dazed look in her eyes, suggesting that she's likely at least moderately concussed. Wincing, she reacts toward the pain, cradling her head in her hands and sagging in her seat. After a few muted noises of pain, she looks up, but still looks woozy. She starts to mumble something, but stops in the middle, shakes her head, and just utters one word, "Ouch."

Scurry has the seatbelt thing going on, but for all the good it does him— he gets smacked into the passenger-side window.

Posh looks over to Lost. 'Sorry," she says, glancing for signs of movement over in the other truck. "But that truck looked like an immediate threat. And it was time for an attack," she says. "I'll make it up to you," she says. "In the meantime…can any of you work that…unnn…healing mojo? I can use a savior medkit real quick on anyone who needs it, too…"

Scurry sighs. "Yeah, I can heal you. No need for a medkit," He says, rubbing his face. "That would be best saved. Lost?"

"I've got one too, a medkit, I mean." Lost replies after a moment, nodding in agreement with her own statement perhaps a few too many times, "I think you've got the better healing spell in any case." She says, leaning back, "And uh… I'm not feeling all that hot at the moment in any case. I'd like to take a nap." She blinks languidly, stares blankly for a moment over at Posh before shrugging, "It happens. Just… maybe go /around/ the truck next time." The dark-haired elf replies with a loopy grin.
«OOC» Scurry says, "Lost? Posh? WHat are your essences?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) has the Attribute Essence with the value '6'.
«OOC» Lost is easy to heal.
«OOC» Blackheart grins, "So pure!"
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 4:
2 2 3 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 6 vs TN 4:
1 1 1 2 2 3 4 4 5 5 9 9 10 = 7 Successes
«OOC» Lost says, "Such heal. :D"
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 4:
1 9 16 = 2 Successes
«OOC» Blackheart says, "OH, Scurry, that's only 3 successes, you forgot to add modifiers for your M wound"
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Willpower vs TN 4:
2 3 3 4 5 5 = 3 Successes
«OOC» Scurry says, "What modifiers are those?"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "+2 TN"
«OOC» Scurry says, "Gotcha. So that puts me at full health :)"
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 4:
3 7 9 = 2 Successes
«OOC» Blackheart thumbs ups!
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 6 vs TN 3 for "Heal F6 Lost":
1 1 2 2 2 3 3 4 4 4 4 5 9 = 8 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 3:
5 11 16 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Willpower vs TN 4:
2 3 4 4 4 11 = 4 Successes
«OOC» Scurry says, "POsh's essence is 6 (3.49)… which figure do I use?"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "the 3 because of her cyber"

«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 7:
1 3 5 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 6 vs TN 7:
1 1 1 2 2 3 3 3 4 4 5 5 15 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 6 - 1 vs TN 7 for "KP1":
1 1 1 2 2 3 3 4 4 5 5 13 = 1 Success

«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 6 - 2 vs TN 7 for "KP3":
1 1 2 2 3 4 4 5 8 8 10 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 3:
1 1 3 = 1 Success
«OOC» Scurry Mutters.
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Willpower vs TN 3:
1 1 2 5 10 15 = 3 Successes
«Plot» Scurry says, "Drain fully soaked on all rolls. I'm fully healed, Lost is fully healed, Posh is…. at 1 Box L."

Scurry places his cool, dry hands on Lost's shoulders. Even through her armor, his hands heat up— at least astrally.

"Fear no more the heat o' the sun.

Nor the furious winter's rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust."
Scurry ends the recitation in Latin by spreading his hands and blowing over his palms til the magic sweeps across each woman, temporarily removing the dust of mortality.

Mortality sucks! And besides that, concussions are not particularly pleasant. After Scurry works his magic, Lost looks considerably relieved, shivering as the effects of the recent collision are wiped away. She sits up straight in her seat, "So, yeah… driving straight at them maybe wasn't the best idea." She says, smirking at Posh before turning toward Scurry with a look of concern, "You alright? That's an awful lot of magic in a short period of time."

Scurry falls back into his seat, slinking into his armor. "I'll be okay," He says. "Even better if Posh has a stimpack."

The spell casting takes a few moments, and the mystical energies wielded by Scurry seem to do the trick for the most part. As everyone gets their berings back they can see that the truck has a small fire going on, and there's no discernable movement going on outside the van. Up ahead, down the driveway about 60m up is the home that the truck was circling, aside from a few dim lights coming from inside, there's not much illuminating the area, besides the van's one working headlight.

«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) uses 1 of item 8: Stimulant Patch R6 from Snap-Tight Purse (#12911).
«OOC» Scurry says, "Snap-Tight Purse. Posh has the best equipment."
Posh reaches for her bag and smiles, grateful to Scurry, indeed, as she wipes away some of the blood over the already healed cut on her brow from where she'd smashed her face into the steering wheel. "Fortunately," she says, cracking a rueful smile. "I do like to come rather prepared. At least when it comes to drugs."
Scurry laughs aloud as he accepts the stimpack. "Thank you."

"Hurray for drugs!" Lost exclaims, rather cheerfully despite the circumstances. She stretches in her seat, carefully rubbing her neck and forehead as if she's checking to make sure everything is where it's supposed to be. Once she's satisfied, the dark-haired elf nods, looking in the direction of the house. "Well. Now what?" Blinking, she suddenly moves for the latch to open the passenger door, but freezes just as quickly, "Might wanna see if that guy's still alive. Then… see what's in the creepy house up the way?"

Posh glances around. "Well," she says, turning back to Lost. "Sorry about that. It's worked before." Still shaking off a bit of a headache, she moves to open the door. "All right here. Let's see exactly what we're dealing with. Then I suppose we've got to head into town," she says. "We were in an accident, right? Now we need to go to town to get help. Let's go check on that PCC officer we were trying to save. And whatever escapee from Bedlam was driving that thing," she says. "I've got another patch if you'd like one," she offers to Lost.

Posh gives a grin. "So while the accident might look like a setback, it helps to…maintain our cover if we're interdicted."

"Weren't we traipsing about trying to find the… Mogwump?" Scurry asks. "Perhaps especially before the fire spreads." He peers from the backseat, trying to see into the darkness.

Posh glances back at Scurry. "Are you sure? I thought it was called a wompkee."

Lost shakes her head, "Don't worry about it. We're all still alive, and that's what counts." She replies with a smile, jabbing Posh playfully in the ribs with her elbow. "Mogwai." She corrects matter of factly, killing the joke with a smirk.

As the group of shadowrunners get all stimmed up in the crashed up van, the woods in the immediate area seem pretty quiet. Way off in the distance the sound of sporatic gunfire echos through the night air, presumably as PCC officers conduct operations in the area. Upon investigating the mangled truck, the driver seems to have disappered.. Wait, nope. Is that it? There a tiny green hand reaching up from under the crushed dashboard. Clawed and vicious looking. After a moment or two, it becomes clear that there was another one, now mashed into a blueish green goo between the seat and the steering wheel.

Posh glances at the clawed hand, and then looks back at the others. "Hmm…there's a hand here," she says, unnecessarily, before she goes around to check on the PCC officer who'd been chained to the front of the vehicle, to see if he's in a similar state to the little apparent drivers.

The officer is dead, having been hit by a speeding truck. It looks like his armoured jacket got caught on the grill, and below the waist, there isn't much one would want to look at for very long.

Posh leaves the officer and heads back around to the others. "Well," she says. "Looks like we're probably headed into town. And…we might have to worry about whatever the heck these things are."

Scurry has his gaze on the steering wheel. "What the hell is that?" He asks. "Were we hit by a van being driven by mogwumps?" They're just mogwumps to Scurry now, and that's all they're going to be. "Are they /intelligent/?" He asks of Posh, horror drawing his face down.

Lost gets out of the car as well and starts looking around. She's certainly wary of getting too close to the truck, but does her best to survey the area despite the slowly fading daylight. "Eww, what is that?" She asks, pointing vaguely toward the goo visible inside the truck. She peeks into the astral briefly, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Noticing what's left of the officer, she sighs sadly, "Poor bastard. What a way to go…" She looks around, "I hate to leave him out there like this… guy deserves a proper burial at least." Again she sighs, moving back toward the team's vehicle.
«Plot» Blackheart says, "please roll perception, Lost"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence for "Elven Low Light+Sunglasses with Thermographic":
1 1 3 3 4 4
«Plot» Blackheart says, "It's all clear, kid!"
«OOC» Lost says, "Ugh. How many KP have I used?"
«OOC» Lost says, "Unless I don't need to use any. XD"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "looks like 2"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence for "Elven Low Light+Sunglasses with Thermographic KP3":
2 3 3 4 4 8
Scurry hops back into the relative safety of the car. City boy does not look happy with this sudden nature experience. "This is why I don't do nature walks or hikes," He says. "Look at that nonsense. Fires, gunfire, crazy rednecks, and mating season for quasi-intelligent horror-creatures."
You paged Lost with 'you're not sure, but you think there might be something in the house'.

Lost squints as she turns back toward the house. After a long moment, she nods, looking toward Posh and Scurry, "I think there's something in the house. Should we check it out now, or head back to town first? I mean… we might luck out and be able to finish the job. Or we might be walking right into a den of horrors. I can't really say for sure, not at this distance."
"Well, do any of you have ways to move some earth fast?" she asks. "I agree with you, by the way. It would be best to take him down," she says. "In the worst case, well, we can probably find an emergency blanket, take him down, and at least cover him," she says, agreeing with Lost. "If the PCC find him first that will positiviely dispose them to us. Respect for the dead is a good move."

"Or they'll want to know who we are, what with being local heroes and all," Scurry says. "I like the sentiment, but I do not like the attention. Nor do I want to explain to officers of the law why we were in an accident and also, we were totally innocent. They might even detain us."]

"Earth elemental could dig us a grave no problem." Lost replies with a nod. "And while we're doing that, I could send an air elemental up to the house, check it out, at least give us /some/ idea of what we might be dealing with in there." She looks between Scurry and Posh, before glancing to the poor, recently deceased PCC guard. "Mmm, avoiding the attention would be wise. They might want a full statement… Do you know anyone trustyworth in the area, Posh? Someone who could give the PCC a convincing cover story and make them grateful for the return of one of their own? That'd free us up to finish the job. Best case scenario, of course."

Posh turns to Scurry. "You're wrong on this one," she says, directly, and then turns to begin looking for an emergency blanket. "That's not going to attract attention. In any case, like I said, I have an identity as a PCC citizen, which I brought us in here on," she explains. "That's who crossed the border. You are all just my clients, people on a hunting trip who would not wish to be identified," she explains. "It's quite understandable - if we're questioned, I'll simply intimate that you two are on a…very…private getaway."
Being a rental van, there is a little emergency kit in the back, which includes road flares, little mini cones, waterproof matches, two ibuprophens, and a tin foil blankie.
Scurry nods along. "We're not really that kind of couple," he says matter-of-factly. "We're more about a vague sense of affection. But still, I think we're being sidetracked, and I worry about a militia— local or otherwise— being something we get caught between. Fires and tempers are both raging out of control, Posh." Scurry doesn't speak as an admonishment; it looks to be a very real concern to him right now.
Posh further elaborates. "Acting outside of that cover, for example, by just leaving a PCC trooper there without a sign of respect as Lost suggested, puts the cover under greater strain and scrutiny if we are questioned," Posh explains. "Positively disposing whoever finds him to us, in case our paths cross, hardly seems like a threat. Nor will we lose too much time," she says, unfolding the blanket and then moving to set the figure down, at least as comfortably as she can, cutting his armored jacket if she has to, crossing his arms, and wrapping the blanket over. "There, that should be quick enough," she explains. "Now, we'd better get going. Vivian Lane is already on the hook for that rental - she's got to report the damage," she says. "Let's hope she remembered to opt for the insurance coverage."
Scurry will move to help Posh with the task.

"I can't believe I'd forgotten that." Lost says, looking disappointed in herself, but seems to think Scurry has raised a valid point. "Mmm… we still don't know exactly where the gunfire was coming from, do we? I'm honestly not sure what the best course of action is here. But leaving him wrapped up like a stuffer shack burrito, as undignified as it might be, is a damn sight better than leaving him to rot." She paces back and forth, more or less standing sentry as Scurry and Posh do their best to wrap up the fallen officer.

It doesn't take long to pull the body from the bumper, it's just a couple little cuts to the fabric of his jacket before he's free and set on the ground. Covered in the reflective blanket, it looks like it's the end of the line for Officer Pitchford, a corporal in the PCC. His wallet contains a picture of a faithful border collie with a bandanna tied around its neck.

Taking a deep breath, Scurry exhales in the wet night. "Well. Whatever gods there may be, I hope Officer Pitchford finds heaven in the afterlife. Good or bad, he lived an honest life."

Lost nods in agreement, blinking through misty eyes, looking perhaps a bit more moved than a shadowrunner should be over the death of a perfect stranger and a member of law enforcement besides. "We'll have to have a drink for Officer Pitchford…" She notes softly after a moment bowing her head, "But for now, we've got a job to do." Looking up, she glances toward the house nearby, then back to the group, "Shall we?"

"Wait, why are we going into the creepy house?" Scurry says, straightening up. "Can't we just capture a mogwump and get the hell out of dodge? Creepy house no—" Scurry raises his hand, glancing between Posh and Lost. "Bag'n'tag yes. All for, please say yea."

"Because there might be one in the house?" Lost asks, suddenly unsure of her own intentions. "Of course it might be something worse. Or a whole bunch of mogwumps." Smirking, she continues, "Anyway, I figure it's either that, or we wander around the woods, at night, in the rain, until we just happen to run into one. Neither option is all that attractive, but…" She shrugs after trailing off, "At least we'll be dry in the creepy house."

"Well, in any case," Posh says to Scurry. "I'm with you on the bag and tag," she says, glancing into the house. "But do you see any to bag and tag?" she asks. "I mean, these things are around this house - whatever the heck they are, do you think they were hunting the mogwai or something?" she asks.

"I'm sort of afraid of putting myself in an environment we could be easily ambushed," Scurry notes. "Buuuuut, that is a good point. Wet and cold and fires, or dry but chandeliers and pianos down stairs? Shall we head inside, then?"

Posh nods to Scurry. "All right then," she says. "But how about this: You're in charge of when we skedaddle. Sound good?" she suggests.

"Good question. I can't say anything for certain, I… well, I thought I saw something." She shrugs, "I wish I could give you more than that. In any case, there certainly don't seem to be any mogwai out here. And I don't like the idea of walking into a strange house any more than you do Scurry. Which is why we just move closer and send an elemental in to be our eyes." She says with a grin. Looking between Posh and Scurry, she laughs softly, "Alright, so Scurry's our danger detector then? Works for me."

"It was his idea not to go in, it only seems fair to me to give him control of the ripcord if he's going along with it," suggests Posh, with a nod to Lost. "I'll be covering you two in, uh, the physical realm. Of course, I'm happy to take point," she says. "I'm, hehe, armed for it."
With that, she turns to head up to the steps of the house. "Front door?" she asks back behind her, heading for that first. "Here's the easiest option, I suppose," she says, preparing to…knock.
Scurry grimaces. Unhappy elven bishou is pouty in the rain.
As the intrepid shadowrunners approach the home, walking down the gravel road, the awakened can feel the echos of violence that had recently taken place in the clearing around the house (BC 1). Up near the door to the house, there's a pattern of bullet holes, with more of that greenish goop spackling the siding. One of the windows on the screen door is broken, and it looks like the inner door is ajar. An awful smell drifts lingers about from the inside as Lost is about to knock. Through the window, the group of elves can see a cluster of what looks like slick, crusty green pods. Like cocoons of some sort with a shiney finish.
Posh stops her fist in mid-air as she glances over at the cluster of pods. "What do you think those are?" she asks.

"Hold on!" Lost says to Posh, "Let me sweep the place first." Nodding to no one in particular, she pinches Scurry's cheek with a smile. "Buck up!" She says simply before taking a deep breath and concentrating, calling on one of her elementals. After a moment or so, a swirling, greenish figure with glowing eyes appears in the astral nearby. It regards Lost with a bored expression as she waves to it before pointing to the house. "See what's inside, if you would, please. That's it, just sweep the whole house, top to bottom, take count of anything alive inside." She smiles at the creature which then breezes off to do her bidding. In the meantime, the dark-haired elf looks at the pods, sniffing the air with an obvious expression of distaste. "Ew. Whatever they are, they're gross."
There is also a faint 'Thwumpthump-Thwumpthump-Thwumpthump-Thwumpthump' noise echoing from inside.
«Plot» Lost is calling a F4 air elemental to sweep the house from top to bottom while still on the astral.
"Uh… It is mating season," Scurry says. "Do… do mogwai lay eggs?"
«Plot» Blackheart says, "It sounds like shoes in a dryer"

«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 4 for "Elemental's search":
1 1 4 4 = 2 Successes

The elemental reports back to Lost that the heinous stench is coming from the dryer near the back door, where the fading glow of an awakened creature is tumbling away at high heat. In the Basement, it was able to detect 4 signatures, one human sized(afraid, angry), with 2 smaller ones attacking it(gleeful), and one smaller one, that's terrified hiding off in a corner.

Lost purses her lips to the side in thought as the elemental makes its report. Nodding, she turns back to the group, "Alright, well, it looks like that awful noise is coming from something dying or dead in one of those old-school tumbler dryers. Other than that, there looks to be something metahuman sized, angry or afraid and under attack by two others, I think. And I think there's one more hiding somewhere… it's not entirely clear." She says with a shrug before covering up with a bright smile, "But it certainly beats going in blind."

Posh holds back and wait, and then nods at Lost. "Oh well," she says, rather thoughtfully. "That noise is doing my head in, so let's find some way to shut it off," she says. "Unless Scurry thinks we should pull the ripcord," she suggests.

"Not yet," Scurry says. "I think we can take two on. After you, my dear," He says, opening the door for Posh with a winning smile.

"Well, it's certainly annoying, but it also works to our advantage. Let's leave it on… it'll help cover the sound of our approach. And besides, it's loud. If we shut it off, whatever's in there is gonna know they have company. We'll just have to suffer the din for awhile… I'm with you, though. I'm going to need to drown out that noise with something… otherwise," She sighs, rubbing her temples, "It's going to haunt my dreams." The dark-haired elf also seems content to led Posh take point.

Inside, where the stink doesn't have to compete with the fresh spring rain, it's eyewateringly bad. There's a bit of a haze in the air, likely caused by the empty fire extinguisher near the doorway. In the living room, where the mysterious cocoons are, the runners can see a small little box with what appears to be chinese script upon it. A little piece of paper titled: 'Taking care of your Mogwai' is on the floor next to a knocked over bong, the instructions directly after '1. Keep away from bright lights,' are all obscured, the cheap ink having run after the spill. There are also snacks and candy wrappers everywhere.. The sounds of a struggle downstairs can be heard when getting nearer to the steps.

Posh walkks through as well, glancing over at the piece of paper. She looks around. "Well, I suppose it's a good thing I've got thermographic," she says. "Everyone. Be ready," she says, as she hears the sounds of struggle.

Scurry says, quickly, "domine deus meus in te speravi conlitebor tibi domine in toto corde meo quem ad modum desiderat cervus ad fantes aquarum!" And with that, he summons his Earth elemental.
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 6:
1 3 4 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 4 vs TN 6:
1 1 2 2 3 3 3 4 5 5 11 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Willpower + 2 vs TN 3 for "Resisting +2M Drain":
1 1 3 4 4 4 5 9 = 6 Successes
«Plot» Scurry says, "F6 Armor on Scurry, maintained by other earth elemental (not the one he summone)."

"Ugh." Lost exhales as softly as she can, nostrils assaulted by the stench in the air. She reflexively covers her mouth and nose with her left hand, while simultaneously looking around the place, trying to form some kind of narrative in her head, "So… stoner buys a pet mogwai from an unscrupulous salesperson. Knocks over his bong on the only copy he has of care instructions. Hilarity ensues?" She doesn't look like she's inclined to laugh, even as she whispers her thoughts aloud. Hearing whatever's going on downstairs, she moves carefully toward the basement door behind Posh.

"Psst, Posh!" Scurry whispers. "Let my Earth elemental go in first." He gestures to the physical manifestation of Earth: one ugly mofo of clay and stone.

"This is when I really want some sort of olfactory filter," says Posh, forced to experience this with her natural elven nose. "Let's see what's being laundered," she says. "I have the feeling that sound is a lure. If it's not a trap, it's designed to distract us. Let's nix that thing first. I can't stand that whumpwhump!"
Scurry is, oddly enough, very much at home with the terrible smell. "What?" He says. "That smells like research. That isn't bad at all." He simply looks baffled, but… lab magicians are crazy. Literally.
Twump-wump-Twump-wump-Twump-wump-Twump-wump-Twump-wump-Twump-wump-Twump-wump!
The timbers of the floor strain under the weight of the earth elemental, and as the group cautiously moves to the laundry room, they can see bloodstains on the floor, a bloody knife on the washing machine, right next to a hastily deployed first aid kit. The sound of the dryer is even louder, and the rank steam escaping the back of the unit makes the room foggy as the machine jumps with the unbalanced load.
Scurry just unplugs the damn thing without any further ado.
The machine winds down when the juice is cut and that super annoying sound finally stops.

Lost shakes her head, "No, don't turn it off…" Even the relief of the machine eventually thudding to a halt doesn't wipe the crestfallen look off her face. "Well… now they know we're here." She states blandly, focusing her attention fully on the door, despite the badass earth elemental standing between her and whatever's down there.

"Ass-kicking time," Scurry says. "Let's get down there and score ourselves a critter."

Posh moves to open the door, desperate to know what had been thump thump thumping. Even if it's not a good idea to know. Because once you know? You can't un-know.

Inside the dryer is a crispy critter. A gush of steam floods Posh's senses as a bloody eyed creature reaches at her with a clawed hand. It's dry skin cracked and desiccated as the little thing lets out a death rattle, the light dimming in its bloodshot eyes, it's evil little mouth, grimacing with two rows of sharp yellow teeth. The stink is beyond words.

"S'what happens when you don't get tenure," Scurry says, matter-of-factly.

"So that's what we're dealing with," says Posh, closing the dryer on the little thing. "Evil little bastards. We still haven't seen a mogwai though," she says. "What the heck are these things, anyway?" she asks. "Something that hunts and eats mogwai, perhaps, brought here by this apparent mogwai stench?"

"Posh? Downstairs. Victim. Something attacking. If we save this person, they might be able to fill us in."

"I don't know, but they're /gross/" Lost whines, shifting her weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other, "Take a sample if you have to, we can look at it later… Actually…" She sighs softly and turns to lean in for a closer look, "It might be worth something to someone." The dark-haired elf notes, voice muffled by a hand over her nose and mouth to mitigate the smell. She glances toward Scurry, nodding in agreement, "But, yeah… he's not going anywhere. If someone's in imminent danger, we should help them."

Posh shakes herself free of her reverie, nodding to Scurry. "All right," she says. With time of the essence, Posh simply charges down the stairs, hoping that the mages are there to back her up. It seems like Posh has thrown caution to the winds - it's her job to keep any attention off the mages long enough for them to cast interesting spells, anyway.

Scurry follows POsh, hot on her heels with the Earth elemental in tow.

The basement of the home is trashed. A smokey haze lingers in the air as some sort of incense battles the stomach churning smell from uptsairs. There are candles all about, it appears at first glance that most of the actual light fixtures were destroyed by what looks like buckshot with the tell tale signs of green goo splattered about liberally. Furniture is turned over, and the trideo is likewise smashed, in the centre of the room there's a lump laying down, weakly trying to push away two manic green creatures, their slick, leathery hide glistening in the candle light. Besides teh wet tearing of flesh, and the chewing noises, the rough sound of "Yum-yum!" can be heard.
As the crew of shadowrunners make their way down the steps, the two little devils look up, their eyes red, and their little pug noses sniff at the air, their faces covered with blood and they grin, "Yum-yum!"

(posh went afk for 30 minutes)
============================> Initiative Listing <=============================
Combatant Name…………….. P1(B) P2(-10) P3(-20) P4(-30) P5(-40)
Grem2…………………….. 15 5 — — —
Lost……………………… 10 — — — —
Grem1…………………….. 8 — — — —
Scurry……………………. 6 — — — —


«OOC» Blackheart says, "Lost, please roll either Quickness or Intelligence, whichever is higher"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Intelligence:
1 2 2 3 5 11
«OOC» Blackheart says, "You do not suffer an accident while running down the stairs! :)"
The first gremlin looks up and snears as Lost comes down the steps, "Yum-yum!" it says, scurrying for cover, moving with preternatural quickness for something with such little stubby legs.

«OOC» Lost says, "Stunbolt time! If they're both visible, I'm gonna zap the closest time. Willpower and BG count?"
«OOC» Lost says, "Closest one, even."
«OOC» Blackheart says, "BC=2, willpower … ugh, 2 it looks like. Poor guy"
«OOC» Lost cackles maniacally.
Posh has disconnected.

«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Sorcery + Spell Pool: 3 vs TN 4 for "F6 stunbolt":
2 2 2 3 3 4 5 5 5 = 4 Successes
«OOC» Lost says, "Derp, Moderate damage on that."
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 2 vs TN 4 for "Gremlin resist!":
3 9 = 1 Success
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Gremlin1 is now at S stun"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Willpower + Spell Pool: 3 vs TN 4 for "Resisting Moderate stun need 4 suxx.":
1 1 1 1 2 2 4 5 5 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Willpower + Spell Pool: 3 - 3 vs TN 4 for "Resisting Moderate stun need 4 suxx. KP…3?":
1 1 3 4 5 11 = 3 Successes
The little gremlin gets hit with the stunbolt and yawns a little bit, but isn't quite put to sleep. It wabbles a little bit, but moves towards the overturned couch, where it looks like a pistol is laying on the floor! It also looks over and gives Scurry a malicious glare, "Yum-Yum!" it utters, like some sort of evil ju-ju incantation.
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Scurry, same test Lost had to do as it uses the accident power on you"
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Quickness/intelligence TN 6"
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Intelligence:
1 4 4 5 7 8

<Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 4 + 4 vs TN 6 for "Stunbolt D Damage 4 SP Dice 4 Dice from Fire Elemental":
2 3 3 4 4 4 5 5 5 5 5 7 8 9 10 = 4 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Centering vs TN 6:
4 4 14 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Sorcery + 4 + 4 - 4 vs TN 6 for "Stunbolt D Damage KP1":
1 1 2 2 4 4 4 5 5 5 10 = 1 Success
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Gremlin 1 is asleep!"
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Willpower + 2 vs TN 2 for "Resisting D Drain":
2 2 2 2 3 3 5 5 = 8 Successes
«Plot» Scurry says, "Full soak, stand."
«OOC» Blackheart says, "nice :)"
Scurry wastes no time as soon as he is oriented: Speaking up in Latin, he draws his hand across like a claw before slamming accumulated magical energy at the creature.

============================> Initiative Listing <=============================
Combatant Name…………….. P1(B) P2(-10) P3(-20) P4(-30) P5(-40)
Grem1…………………….. 14 4 — — —
Scurry……………………. 10 — — — —
Lost……………………… 8 — — — —


«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 10 for "gremlin1 shooting its gatt at Scurry! 6L damage if it hits":
3 3 5 7 = 0 Successes
<The gremlin by the couch bends down and picks up the pistol with its clawed little fingers. With a malicious laugh it lifts the object which looks way too heavy for it and it fires at one of the mages, the kickback sending its spindly arms flying back comically.
«OOC» Blackheart says, "oh, forgot about that, TN13, my bad!"
Scurry watches the display without reacting, and when it is over, he says, "Earth Elemental One, engage the subject and restrain it. Do not kill, crush, or harm it."
With the haze obscuring her vision, Lost decides against trying to throw any more spells around. Instead, she hustles down the last few stairs before ducking toward the nearest solid object. As long as it's between her and the gun-having gremlin, of course.
The gremlin recovers from it's attempt to shoot and grits its yellow, needle like teeth. Trying to keep its sleepy eyelids open, it draws another bead on Scurry, and fires, maybe this time it can hit!
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 13 for "another shot at Scurry, 6L damage":
3 4 5 9 = 0 Successes
============================> Initiative Listing <=============================
Combatant Name…………….. P1(B) P2(-10) P3(-20) P4(-30) P5(-40)
Posh……………………… 23 13 3 — —
Elemental…………………. 13 3 — — —
Gremlin…………………… 11 1 — — —
Lost……………………… 11 1 — — —
Scurry……………………. 8 — — — —


Looking down at the pool of her own sick, as she'd been overtaken, Posh tries to blur her vision and rushes down into the smoke, likely trodding on a green hand or two…or at least imagining she is. She rampages down the stairs, galumphing too fast, looking for a gremlin to steer her now uncontrolled descent into, shock hands flashing out before her.

«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 for "Elemental's engulf attack!":
1 2 4 11
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 3 for "Gremlin's defense":
2 3 3
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 2 vs TN 4 for "Resisting S damage as it's eaten by an earth elemental":
3 3 = 0 Successes

Earth 1, a name more indicative of Scurry's clinical approach to magic than anything, approaches the creature. It roars like the distant echo of continents scraping against one another, reaches for the fuzzy little bastard, and in one quick move, shoves it into its chest cavity before it seals back up.

Scurry glances over towards the man who was being attacked. "Darling," He drolls, "Could you find the guide? What a fun hunt this was. I love killing these little bastards; we're coming back for our four hundredth anniversary."

«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 2 vs TN 4:
3 4 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 4:
2 3 4 5 = 2 Successes

Try as it might, the evil little green gremlin cannot claw its way out from the chest of the elemental as it is slowly ground down. The man laying on the floor with what looks to be a chewed off leg and partially devoured rump gurgles in shock, his eyes rolled back, face covered in scratches and cuts, even some of his dreadlocks have been pulled out. Worst of all, his Phish shirt is covered in blood and gremlin goop. "Uuuuuugh.."

"Of course, dear." Lost replies to Scurry with a smirk, as she gets up from the spot of cover she had ducked into. Glancing at the poor dude on the ground, she shakes her head, "Poor bastard…" While Scurry tends to the lump on the floor, she takes the time to sweep the area, both visually and astrally, just to make sure there aren't any more gremlins to worry about. Once she's satisfied nothing else is going to leap from the shadows, she starts to look for wherever Posh has wandered off to.

Posh might not have seen any gremlins around, but she's sure on the spot with her savior medkit, one of the other things she's got in that snap-tight purse. She's getting the medkit out and collapseson it at the bottom of the stairs. Medical supplies skitter everywhere. "Wait…ooof…wait…I can help…"

Scurry crouches over the man, exhaling slightly. "Should we just stabilize him? I don't have the spell to regenerate limbs, but if a local shaman can give him his leg back, I'd rather not stop that. And I think we can drop the act, he's pretty out of it."
As Lost scans the area with her astral vision, she sees one little friendly glow peeking out from around the corner of the door to the grow room. It doesn't have the same malicious colours to it that the other gremlins had, and as it sees people taking care of its friend, it runs over, making incoherent yet soothing noises as it gets to its friend and starts petting his forhead. "Aaah, I'm sorry lil doobie, I shouldnta given your bros those tacos, I guess.."
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Reaction:
1 1 1 5 11
«Plot» Blackheart says, "Little Doobie appears much like the photo you were given. Brown/white fur, and kind of adorable."
"EEE! Oh Jesus!" Scurry says suddenly, snapping back to his feet and away from the new gremlin like a particularly nasty spider. "Jesus. Jesus, Mary and Joseph," He says, standing against the wall with his hand going to his heart. "I am getting too old for this."

"Looks like the guy has had a rough couple of days…" Lost replies, her expression quickly changing from a brief giggle as Posh's medical supplies go everywhere to a more serious expression as she moves toward Scurry, "Do the best you can do for him. I figure… what, we sweep some signatures, and we can call this in to the PCC, let them take him to a local shaman and take care of Officer Pitchford's body outside as well. And we're gone before they show up." She nods to herself before the little figure scurries over. "Oh!" She exclaims, "It's so cute!" Scurry's reaction earns him an odd glance, "You should never own a cat. You'd be at risk of a heart attack." That said, she goes back to gushing over the adorable little critter.

Scurry exhales. "No, no, it needs to be now," Scurry says, shaking his head. "He has less than an hour before he'll have to get a cyber implant of some kind. It's like Treat; the window is really limited. Posh? Can you work in an emergency call that also allows us to get the hell out of dodge?"

"You handled the devil rat; you want to handle this one?" Scurry says, moving over to take a bio-trauma kit from Posh's spilled supplies before applying it to the man.

"That's right…" Lost replies, resisting the urge to facepalm, "That puts us in a difficult position… I feel bad for this guy, I really do. We've got to do our best to make him whole, though… especially since we're going to steal his pet." She tries to hide a guilty expression as she moves to pick up the mogwai, cooing at it soothingly, "It's ok, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Posh glances back, rather suspiciously at the little gremlin, and then at Scurry, and then at Lost. She does her best to pick up the remains of her medkit to help stabilize the guy, doing what she can and glancing over at Scurry and Lost. "Well, it seems like you guys are ahead," she says. "But if we can avoid a trauma patch, we should, I think," she suggests.
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Biotech + 1 vs TN 7 for "D wound, Savior medkit, bad conditions, task pool":
2 3 5 5 8 = 1 Success
«Plot» Posh says, "So that doesn't get in the way of magic at all, and leaves him at S (minus a limb)"
«OOC» Blackheart nods
Scurry nods, leaving Posh to handle it.
Posh finds the needle with nanites, as well as a number of clamps, the latter she quickly applies to the main blood vessels at the missing limb. Instead of deploying the expendable reconstruction nanites, she uses only the testing nanites on a blood sample, to help her develop a number of infection-preventing macrophages she then applies, while whistling, 'We'll Meet Again.' She then reaches for bandages and quickly begins to dress the wound with rather surprising efficiency, her mechanical hands moving in almost preprogrammed patterns.

«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 4 vs TN 4 for "Mogwai's singing":
1 1 4 4 = 2 Successes
'Little Doobie' snuggles into Lost as she picks up the Mogwai, watching as Posh performs a quick paramedic routine on the burnout with the missing butt-cheek. As the guy in the Phish shirt starts to pass out from whatever drugs are involved with the first aid, he reaches up, "I'm sorry lil doobie.. I … I shoulda been better.." before his arm collapses and he passes out cold, his body shifting in the muck on the floor while Posh fixes him up.
The Mogwai's singing is relaxing and pleasant, sounding like a mixture of birdsong and a cat's purring.

"I hate to be That Guy," Scurry begins to say, "But it's always a stoner with terrible taste in a goddamn classic jam band from antiquity that starts this stuff. And it was tacos. Of course it was tacos."

Lost gives the mogwai a little scritch behind the ears as it more or less attaches itself to her. "Aww. I can see why people would be willing to pay for one of these little guys. As long as they don't go all nasty…" She shrugs before glancing toward Scurry, "Yeah… the guy made a mistake. Two, really. One, he got himself a paracritter with no idea how to properly care for it, and two… he spilled his bong on the instructions. Coulda happened to anyone, I guess. But come on… cut the guy a break. Don't you think he's had it rough enough that you don't need to take jabs at his taste in music?" She asks, grinning.

Elsewhere in the basement, aside from blown apart lava lamps and exploded gremlins, inquisitive shadowrunners can find an assortment of contraband. What looks like a grow op in in one of the bedrooms, along with an Ouiji board and candles set up in another. To a trained eye, there looks to be some components for summoning, but to most people appears to be merely junk. There's also a small crate with some explosives, (some home made, and some commercial) and ammunition. On the wall in that room are a bunch of TerraFirst! posters and associated literature.

"No," Scurry says, eyeing the TerraFirst posters blankly. "No, I absolutely cannot give him a break. I think we just need to get the hell out of this place. How are we going to smuggle the mogwai through the border?"

After the team gives the house a more thorough search, Lost purses her lips thoughtfully, "Mmm… maybe this guy wasn't just some stoner. It looks like he might be a militant environmentalist. Or at least heading in that direction…." She looks between Posh and Scurry, "So… yeah. We call this in to the PCC, this guy probably goes to jail if he doesn't die. And… that's a good question. Maybe we should call Stanley, have him meet us out here, make the exchange, let him deal with the border crossing."

«Plot» Blackheart notes that the J hired shadowrunners because of the bordercrossing
"I think that's technically what we were payed to do," Scurry says. "This is definitely a Posh question. I don't know what scrutiny we'll face getting through the border, if any at all."

Posh glances back at Lost. "Well," she says. "I suppose this joker can be part of our original hunting party," she says, thinking rather fast. She starts looking for stimulants, to hopefully bring Stanley too. "Can he be your idiot son, perhaps?" she asks, thoughtfully, looking hopefully at Scurry. "Think you could help convince the border guards of that?" she asks.
«OOC» Scurry is 30. How old is dudebro?
«Auto-Judge[]» Blackheart (#12120) rolls 2 for "+16":
1 2
Scurry shakes his head. "My SIN is still way too young. And we don't have his. I suppose we just take the truck back, mask the little… mogwai, and get back across the border? Who knows. Maybe they're just waving people past at this point in the disaster."

"Yeah, taking him with us doesn't seem like a great idea. Especially considering how chewed up he is. Border cops would likely steer us toward the nearest hospital. I can make him invisible…" Lost says, hoisting the mogwai up a bit, "But… there's probably gonna be too much magical security at the border for that. And… well, as a paracritter, he kind of lights up on the astral, too."

"Let's just shove him in the first aid kit," Scurry says. "If they inspect the car, we'll just have to deal with border security there. Astral signatures maybe, but hopefully they don't have… dogs, or whatever."

Lost nods to Scurry, "That should work." That said, she spends a little time scrubbing the basement clean of astral signatures. That accomplished, she cradles the mogwai comfortably as she makes her way slowly up the stairs. "Alright… I'm gonna have to cram you into this box for a little while, but don't worry. You'll be able to get out soon enough." She has no idea if the little critter can understand her or not, but it at least makes her feel a touch better. She moves briskly out of the house and back into the truck, buckling her seatbelt before gingerly lowering the mogwai into the first aid kit box.

Scurry buckles himself back into the backseat, sighing in near relaxation at being away from the house.

Posh gives a shrug. "Well," she says. "He's not going to die now. So if we've reached the end of our charity, maybe it is indeed time to skedaddle," she says. "Frankly, though, I can probably keep him for a second in my snap-tight purse," she says. "I also have a smuggling compartment and an autonav on my bike. Last but not least I've got a breather with a little tank, I suppose," she suggests, last.
With the mogwai stuck in the first aid kit's box, there's only the occasional noise that escapes as its movements push against the tin lightly. The drive back out of town goes slowly, there's still the sound of gunfire out in the distance, and way back in the night, there's a large fireball shooting up into the late night sky, as if something happened at the Texaco station downtown. After several minutes of driving down the back country road, there's a road block up ahead, the lights on the top of the cars flashing while officers in reflective vests watch for traffic coming in.

"I don't even want to know…" Lost says blandly of the fireball that lights up the sky. "Nope. Nope nope nope. Let's just get across the border and make the hand off before anything else bad happens." She sighs, sinking in her seat, "I'm gonna need a shower. And a drink or five. But definitely a shower, first." Absently, she rubs the lid of the first aid kit, trying to keep the mogwai as calm as possible, even as she herself tenses a bit on the approach toward the roadblock.
"I think I'm with you on that one," she says, with a little smile on the approach to the roadblock, on up ahead. "Well," she says. "I'm sorry for the excitement," she says, getting back into character. "Still, I hope that you all enjoyed your views of the local fauna of the Pueblo goodlands," she says, using a marketing term and hoping to sound as boring as possible to anyone who catches her in earshot.
"I swear to god. East of the Hudson, it all goes to shit," Scurry says bluntly from the back.
"West of the Hudson, and you enter hell," He finishes.
The officer waves the van over, "Good evening!" he greets from behind a salt and pepper handlebar moustache, peeking into the window. "Looks like you had a bit of an accident back there, everyone okay?" His partner comes around, the mangled front end of the van rousing interest as they stand on either side of the vehicle. "You know you shouldn't be out on the highway with a broken headlight.."

"Well," Lost begins, whipping out her PocSec as she falls back into the act, "Doesn't leave much space in the world to live, does it dear? Anyway, our flight is at 9. Oh. And I forgot to mention, my mother is coming to visit us on Wednesday." Her thumbs move at lightning speed, and it's anyone's guess as to what she's typing out. But the PocSec serves as a good distraction from the officer's 'Stache.
Posh puts on a rather vapid smile as she moves up to approach the roadblock - it seems the intent is to try to remain in cover and talk past them without getting the first aid kit searched.

Posh nods, looking rather sheepish. "I know, I know, officer - I should have been more careful. There was a crazy truck careening around that town a few miles out - couldn't tell if the driver was drunk or what, but they just hit us and sped off," she says, looking a little concerned. "We're all okay now, thank goodness! I'm just getting my clients here back to the city," she says, offering over her ID to be checked, for Vivian Lane. "They've had a pretty rough shake of it," she says. "I think they've had enough excitement for one day!"

«OOC» Blackheart says, "oh, give me an etiquette test at TN 4, 3 if you're charisma 5+"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "the rules on checkpoints needs to be edited for clarity quite badly"
«OOC» Lost says, "Etiquette rolls from everyone?"
«OOC» Blackheart says, "please"
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls Etiquette vs TN 3 for "These are not the droids you're looking for.":
5 5 5 9 = 4 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls Etiquette:
2 3 3 4 4 5
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Etiquette + 1 for "outside, but still pheremones!":
1 2 2 4 5 7 10
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls 6 vs TN 5 for "SIN check vs border, high alert":
2 3 4 5 5 10 = 3 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 1 vs TN 8 for "difficult negotiation test":
1 2 3 4 5 5 5 7 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Posh (#11342) rolls Negotiation + 1 vs TN 8 for "difficult negotiation test karma 1":
1 2 3 4 4 4 4 10 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Lost (#4658) rolls 4 vs TN 5 for "Nothing to see here…":
3 3 3 5 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls 4 vs TN 5:
1 3 4 4 = 0 Successes
«Auto-Judge[]» Scurry (#1304) rolls 4 vs TN 5 for "KP1":
1 1 5 10 = 2 Successes

Posh gives her best, brightest, sweetest smile to the mustachioed gent. "Well, you see here," she says. "They've had a shock. Can you just take it easy on them, maybe? Of course check, but you know. They're shaken up." She turns to the others. "Can you please just provide your passports? The nice officer would like to check your SINs," she says, turning back to the man and providing the biggest beam that she possibly can, hoping that the mogwai makes no noise inside that first aid kit…

"Of course," Lost replies, ceasing her texting on her PocSec for long enough to produce her passport for the officer. Since she's holding the kit, if the mogwai DOES make any noise, she's quick to cover with a cough or a particularly loud shifting in her seat.

Officer Stache gives everyone in the car a long look, then checks Vivian's SIN. "Everything checks out here, you'd best get that light looked at, Ms. Lane. It's dangerous driving at night with only one light, you know." He hands back the identification and nods to his partner to clear the road for them, allowing the shadowrunners through.
The drive back is uneventful, and after being called, Stanley is at the address indicated with a small briefcase full of cash. "Ah, yis, you got it! Mr. Johnson will be very pleased with this," he says, a big, orkish grin on his face as he tickles the mogwai. "This is just what little Johnny wanted for his birthday," he gingerly tucks the little critter into a cat box with a blanket. "It wasn't too much trouble, I trust?" he asks, then winks and pats Lost on the shoulder, "Naww, hardened shadowrunners like you, it was probably a milk run, hey? Well, I best be getting back to the house, the birthday party's coming up in a couple days."

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