Basement Shadowrun

On tonight’s episode of Run!, Shadow, Run!:
Pirates! Part 2; More Pirates!

You have taken the bridge of the freighter Amber Dawn. The marine fire team is KIA and the rigger/decker crew has been sent to Davie Jones in a blaze of .50 cal. fire by Cotter, your boat rigger. Heavy rain is reducing visibility and drenching the decks. The seas are rough, moving even the 30,000 ton freighter hull unpleasantly. The 100 mile ride out here in Cotter’s little boat was … suboptimal. Good thing Cotter had all those motion sickness pills, Or you would’ve been spraying those Marines with your lunch instead of lead and grenades.

Perses’s TacCom sends out a notification: according to the download, you are supposed to head back to Tacoma and the ship shed after running due south for another 15 minutes.

It also pings a warning: another vessel is approaching at high-speed, it looks like an old tramp steamer, the kind that have been plying third world trade routes for almost 2 centuries. But this one is packed to the gunwale’s with rain sodden orks, armed to the tusks. And it appears to have multiple weapon mounts including at least one light cannon mounted forward. The Tower’s camera can barely make out a flag snapping in the wind. Two red…eyes?faces?skulls? Over a metal mouth? No.. that’s a sword, curved like a smile.

Kalix, one of Lughaidh’s bound spirits, manifests before Perses. “The master says they are right on time. You will need to run before them for a little bit then let them board you, and squawk a distress call that you have been boarded by Pirates-heading due south. Then clean your decks and head back to the barn. Got it? Good.” The little smoking imp disappears back into the aether.

Back at the Tower in Redmond, “Well, apprentice? Have you had enough nicotine? How is the catalogue coming? Kalix tells me that your compatriot, Perses has boarded the freighter with several new ‘hires.’ Now we shall see whether they can hold it against this ‘Captain Blood.’”

“Captain Blud Tusk, Master” the Butler corrects.

“Whatever his nom de guerre, we want him to take the blame, but not the ship. What do you think Apprentice? Can they make that happen?”

Megacorporate Overkill, Take 1


So, the Johnson sets a meet at the old Bulldog Scrapyard in the Redmond Barrens at oh dark 30, of course. You find him they’re leaning against the side of the Mitsubishi night sky limousine smiling his plastic smile on his plastic face with his Slicked-back blonde hair.
He has two plastic guards with him, very well armed and, either anthropomorphic drones or full body cyborgs. They are very plastic – or maybe titanium.

“Gentlemen, my name is Mr. Johnson. My principal has a job for you. It is primarily an extraction on a heavily defended corporate site. my principal has discovered that the target’s research team has recently completed a prototype of an upgraded heavy armor cyborg/drone body of some sort. My principal wants the data, chief scientist, and prototype itself extracted. However, it is understood that the prototype is likely very large and bulky and perhaps impossible to be extracted – in which case it needs to be destroyed.

“The target is the Shiawase corporate tower in downtown Seattle. The R&D facility is located on the 80th floor. My principal has learned that, with the completion of this research and the development of the prototype, the entire project is scheduled to be moved to Japan Friday morning. Once that happens, extraction of the technology will be effectively impossible. Consequently this extraction must occur Thursday night or no later than 0400 hrs. Friday morning.

“The fee is 10,000 each upfront, with several bonuses based on Mission completion. Extraction of the head scientist for the project, Nicholas Kerensky, is worth 200,000. Retrieving the project data and prototype plans is worth 250,000. Destroying the prototype is worth 100,000. Extracting the prototype is worth 1,000,000.

“So? Are you interested?”

1 notoriety
1 public awareness


$ 20k each upfront

$1,667,500 total for completion or $333,500 each (+20k)

The treasure of the Sarcophagus

Stealing sarcophagi and submarines:

Having no other offers on the table, Oeam Overkill took up Mr. L’s job. Of course it didn’t go smoothly. Clive, mincing about with the backpack full of explosives and new water breathing augmentations, infiltrated the yakuza guarding the pier. Everything was going swimmingly for a moment until another team showed up evidently working for an organization called LOPTR. They were led by a cocky bastard named Bowman, who kept yelling “Lana!!!!!!!” and another clown who looked like an accountant and kept yelling “suppressing fire!”

The crew of the submarine attempted to defend itself from both attacks, but Lot’s sniper overwatch position on a crane 800 m across the water took the wind out of their sails, as did a trio of heavily armed drones run by Perses. Clive put on the finishing touches by detonating 2 pounds of plastic explosives and blowing himself into the water. The ensuing mess cracked the lid of the sarcophagus but the team was ultimately able to take possession of it and the submarine itself. Alabaster took over the running of the submarine, and was even able to wedge the Krupp Komet in the aft hold.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team peeked inside the broken lid of the ancient sarcophagus. Inside was a man holding three weapons in his crossed arms: hammer, trident and sword. All were covered in dust and cobwebs, still as the grave . . . Until the man sucked in a deep rasping breath.

The team quickly hustled the sarcophagus back to Mr. L’s lair. The man himself was not pleased by the damage to the sarcophagus and his goblin minions in their incongruous waistcoats shuffled about, muttering, while arranging to move the artifact inside. Lot loitered about conveying his curiosity to Mr. L who said not a word, turning on his heel, striding after his prize.

Leaving the door open.

Lot followed the procession in to the elevator that the master reserved for his exclusive use. The goblins seem the both agitated and subdued while the master stood without moving, looking down through the broken lid. Occasionally a rasping breath echoed from within.

The elevator stopped. The goblins quickly shuffled the sarcophagus into a large room. It looked like a cross between Mary Potter: the Fifth Generation at Hogwarts, and a very expensive hospital suite. As goblins moved the sarcophagus to the center of the room, others began turning on various machines, lighting candles and incense and sprinkling powders in various bowls.

Lughaidh remained on the elevator, his hands clasped behind his back looking at the sarcophagus… with trepidation? Finally he turned to Lot “would you care to assist me?”

Lot walked to the sarcophagus

Over the next several hours various high-tech sensors as well as arcane rituals and devices were used on the subject in the sarcophagus. It became clear to Lot that the weapons clutched by this individual were powerful magical artifacts and that the individual himself might be considered one as well. The subject was clearly still alive even though Lughaidh’s tests determined that the sarcophagus had been sealed for almost 10,000 years. Lot was unsure that he should accept the test’s veracity.

The subject was removed from his tomb and placed on a gurney. The weapons were moved to a bench on the far side of the room where they were examined and cleaned. “Triton work this,” Lughaidh concluded of the trident. “Possibly forged for Triton himself. The hammer is clearly Dvaegar forged, but this” he held the sword reverently, “this I think was made by Druthgar himself.”

“That name probably holds no meaning for you, does it child?” Lughaidh raised his hand bowing his head slightly, “I apologize. I never cared to be called a child, no matter my age. But in my homeland you would not be considered an adult until you had passed your first century, and you are well short of half a century I think?”

Lughaidh raised his head as if he could see through the ceiling. “Almost everyone in this world is a child to me now. And to him.”

Lughaidh looked back to the subject on the gurney. The raspy breath had been replaced by a regular but very slow, quiet rhythm. On first inspection the subject appeared to be entirely gray. Lot assumed that was due to the coating of dust and cobwebs. But when cleaned, the subject’s pallor hardly changed. Hair and flesh looked were a faded, almost translucent, grayish-white, like an old T-shirt washed too many times. The only deviation from that faint tone was his prosthetic left arm. Once cleaned, it was a gleaming silver simulacrum from shoulder to fingertips.

“His condition is not good. Even holding a Druthgari a blade infused with orichalc, the sensory deprivation has driven him deep into the fugue. It may be that he will not recover. In fact he has faded so far that I cannot recognize him by his face. But I still sense some part of the soul and kinship with it. That, and his silver arm lead me to believe that this is Kharis, a friend from my youth. He was Bosun on the first ship to run the channel and end the blockade on my homeland.

“It seems Kharis must’ve returned home at the end. He was on Atlantis when it drowned.”

Lughaidh notes the look on Lot’s face. “Do you believe in Atlantis? It is been much in the news recently. The Atlantean Foundation. The Draco Foundation. Many organizations are searching the Atlantic for evidence of it even now. Yet many people still believe it a myth.” Lughaidh smiles.

“Atlantis is real. I was born there.”

“Will you help me go home?”

Three Seconds of Mayhem
Team Overkill Strikes Again!







Back in Action
Team Overkill rides again.

Mr. L. has another mission for the runners. Rourke contacts the team. Nobody else seems to want to put their faith in a bunch of runners called team overkill. It is been six months since the team return from Portland and pickings are slim.

The job is straightforward… A black market cargo hauler is offloading in ancient sarcophagus at a pier in Tacoma. Mr. L. wants the team to intercept the sarcophagus and bring it back to him.

The Yakuza are in charge of the black market pier. Mr. L. is fairly certain that the sarcophagus will be met by some sort of security detail, but he does not have any particulars. The transport is an Aztec Profit class submarine. It makes frequent runs from Vladivostok to Malaysia to Japan to Seattle.

The submarine is scheduled to arrive Thursday night. Mr. L. has offered 50,000 each for the retrieval of this cargo. 10,000 upfront.

the hangover

Clive: isn’t she like really inebriated? She’s got some good reflexes for a chick with a dick in her mouth.

Posted by 11 Bravo

Nothing better than waking up with a foul hangover on a gurney in a hospital gown. The really sad thing is I think this had happened to me before. Anyhow looks like we were picked up by the Tir police and chained to these hospital beds in an unused wing of the public hospital. I broke my restraints and got the other guys out, but perses must’ve got a double dose of whatever they used. Heard voices outside the next room so we scrambled for cover when the nurse walked through. She realized something was wrong and scampered back out. I rushed through the door, knocking her on her face and surprising the pair of Portland PD cops who were looking over all of our gear. I grabbed the one with a clipboard put him in a chicken wing. The other one drew down on me and fired off a round. I guess they don’t train them like they used to.

In any event he didn’t hit either of us. alabaster had my back, rushing in to engage in a very sad display – tumbling around on the floor with the nurse. In any event she was out for a bit and the new guy we picked up joined the fray. Evidently pistols remortgage the, still had a bit of the standoff. We’ve got the door block and a little bit of the upper hand. After some negotiation back and forth with cops and regrettably they just let us out, Cordesman didn’t explain the mechanism for that. Alabaster used his brand-new drone when it got done freeze up quick draw McGraw, the zip tied together to hit all of them when the lease/patches found off those paladins.

We got our gear back in recorded Prince telling us at least a little of what it happened

Domestic Tranquility pt 2

>>>Posted by ElevenBravo

Right. So we went to the Dog Soldiers and had a confab with their leader, Red Feather. Turns out these neo-Luddite, hippie, Amerinds primarily run cover for smugglers from the Tir to the SS and into Seattle. They knew we had the leader’s sister and of course wanted her back. They seemed a bit usually intransigent regarding the concept of ransom. Maybe they were so down on their luck they couldn’t pay a cred? Or maybe they just didn’t understand the time-honored tradition of ransoming – or appreciate the serious potential for their impending extermination.

Whatever. We had a discussion about potential nonmonetary arrangements, for the return of the sister. Perses wasn’t too keen on the idea, until he was reminded of the fact that he had over half million ¥ sitting in his account. Then things moved pretty swiftly and the spans and the shooters decided to have a summit. They asked us to broker the deal.

Scoped the place out to make sure there were many ambushes and everything was on the up and up. In fact, just to make things a little more enjoyable Prince Paris crashed the party. Both sides were arguing hellishly, again somehow unaware of their impending extermination, and things looked like they were going downhill. Then the Shooters’ madame proposed a ritual combat between champions for the two sides. She wanted me to be her champion. A bit pretentious I thought, but then the Prince jumped in and said he thought it was a great idea.

Now it was pretentious AND official.

The spans jumped right up and picked Perses to go against me. Of course.

So – we went at it. Seemed like forever, but the TACNET told me – when I woke up – that the whole thing barely lasted four seconds.

For damn sure going to get some electric insulation on my armor.

And now apparently the Prince has yet another job lined up for us.

Domestic Tranquility

Prince Parris has a mission for Team Overkill, but that mission is usurped by a vendetta. The prince’s rally in the park gets interrupted by a drive by. Everyone freaks out about the random bystanders caught in the crossfire. In Seattle, we call this “Tuesday.”

Parris is pissed about petty gangs chucking bullets down the streets of Peaceful Portland. He wants the fighting stopped. Use diplomacy or any means necessary, says the frenzied Prince, which, to Team Overkill, means use deadly force unless we can personally benefit from talking after which point we will use deadly force anyway.

Who is the omniscient narrator who understands this team’s motivations so well?

There are four street gangs involved in this job fair, the ‘runners learn from Parris’s trusted VP of corporate analogy, Mr. Horn. In one reserved in advance boardroom, you have the dwarven Sons of Gimli and their female allies, the Shooters. In the other boardroom is the native Dog Soldiers backed up by the Shooters biggest enemy the… somethings. The Spans? What the fuck does that even mean? Even as orc street gang names go, you have to admit that is fucking stupid.

I agree entirely

Alabaster, Parish, and Perses decide to check out the Son’s of Gimli’s clubhouse and set up some reconnaissance. While their driver, Mr. Johnson, idles the SUV out front, TO decides to go in for a drink, which is code for “go in and try to extort the gang for protection money.” That pretty much fails, but the ’runners did identify the leader and his girlfriend, a hot elf lassy named Smiles-With-The-Sun. Armed with a fury (that from the outside, kinda looks like a temper tantrum, just sayin)

Please don’t ask me to weep for the deaths of a bunch of gangbanging murderers who are a blight on society.

the Team resolves to leave and then come in again, this time under the covering fire of one of Alabaster’s rotodrones. That ended poorly for the Sons as they were flashbanged and shot to a man, either during the fight, or afterwards when Alabaster returned to execute the prisoners as they lie bound in a storeroom. They got their licks in though, and Perses will be pulling slugs out of his gut this evening while the rest of the team does whatever they have planned for Smiles-With-The-Sun.

That’s right, Team Overkill somehow avoids killing Smiles-With-The-Sun,

pure accident

who, they found out earlier, is the sister of Red Feather, the leader of the Dog Soldiers, and the Juliet in this remake of that Romeo & Juliet movie (not to be confused with the Romeo & Juliet Shadowrun mission which is in no way associated with this session summary). They decide it is in their own best interest to bind up the girl, gag her, and keep a taser in her back to make sure she stays unconscious while they pile into the SUV and bring her back to their hotel room…


Main question . . . is she a mage?

Guys, this is where we see about planning our next move

Hopping the Fence

Rook = dick

some 405 hellhounds attacked our trucks.
I grenadiered the left flank spattering one and causing another to ditch. the shot the last 2 I could see with my mg.
Perses splattered a half dozen with his MG on suppression fire and the rest backed off.

Parish 1 helicopter/1 assist/3 gangers
Perses 1 assist/4 gangers/

Ancient Pawns
Not ancient prawns

Lughaidh tells you to lay low for a few months due to heat from blood mages and ATS. You have time for R&R, put in a few orders for equipment, get your new equipment, and still have time to spare. You all have level 110 World of Warcraft 7 paladins by the time your links buzz. Surprisingly, it’s Rourke’s grizzled mug that lights up your screens and promises an end to the monotony.

“‘Team Overkill?’ Seriously? No wonder why everyone in Seattle wants you dead. Well, not quite everyone. How would you like a chance to keep your skills sharp, let someone else take the blame for whatever carnage you cause, AND make some new friends in the process? Oh, and money. There’s money involved, too.”

Carnage piques your interest at least as much as money, so you’re in. Rourke provides the details:

“Mr. Johnson is an Ancient hotshot named Belial. They’re putting on some sort of elf ritual game thing tonight at the Daisy Chain in Tarislar. Get there at 11pm and they’ll fill you in. Belial tells me that whatever you do, it won’t be pinned on you unless you get stupid about it. That’s why I thought of you guys.”

Lot bows out. His bags are packed and he’s ready to beat feet, but he tells you a connection of his will take his spot on the run. A soldier named Parish he did a few runs with awhile back.

You get to the Daisy Chain to find this Parish already there. You meet Belial and he lays out the game: You’re his proxies in a scavenger hunt. You have an hour to hit up to five places and let the Ancients have the credit. Targets are a Humanis Policlub clubhouse, a Spikes bar, Skraacha orcs at an Underground entrance, some pimp dwarf and his drugged out girls, and, finally, an autotruck heading through the neighborhood at about 12:45. The catch is you’ll be competing against a group of Laesa elfs representing the current Ancient’s leader, Sting. If you win, Belial gets the Ancients as a birthday present. You lose… Well, don’t lose.

Before heading out, Perses gives the Laesa crew a goodwill present of a nausea grenade through door of their rover. You peel out as the elfs scurry about opening doors in an attempt to air the vehicle out.

First stop is the dwarf pimp, Jimmy the Chin, over in the Crime Mall. Perses plays John long enough to confirm Jimmy’s most recent acquisition, a 14 year old elf kid, was present and accounted for. After that, the team closes up shop for Jimmy and his brother Billy. Permanently. Finding the Chin’s van nearby, the team loads up the girls and sends them home to Belial via pilot program.

Next destination is the Humanis racists. Their plan to chuck TNT through the door goes sour when Gyoza scuffs some gravel, alerting a roof racist that something going down. Parish and Perses take the back door, while Ceana whips the ride around in preparation for the inevitable fireworks. Gyoza gets inside just in time to count bodies, since Parish and Perses made better time. Parish grabs whatever hoods he can carry, Perses grabs their flag, and Gyoza sets the bomb. As the team speeds off toward their next destination, they are treated to rear view mirror full of explosions.

The team determines they have enough time to hit the Spikes bar before tracking down the autotruck. Their plan to crack that nut with a rocket and followup with grenades to make mincemeat of those troll Spikes is pretty near foolproof… if not for what goes around comes around. The Laesa crew left a present for the team in the form of a strand of monofiliment cable stretched across the street. Gyoza at the helm loses all four tires and skids out of control, coming to rest against a building across the street from the bar. Their rover essentially useless, the team nabs the Spikes motorcycles, but not before busting open the Twisted Tusk anyway. Seems they were beat getting there, as their targets had already met their demise and been stripped of their horns. Determined to get some trophies, Gyoza and Ceana remove the trolls of the last of their dignity before heading out to intercept the autotruck.

Team Overkill is late to the party as the Laesa crew already have a man on the truck ready to take over. Through a combination of grenades and compulsion, Parish and Ceana work together to divert the majority of the Laesa team, sending them speeding down some side road. Gyoza manages to gain access to the cab and control of the truck, but the remaining elf doesn’t give up without a fight. He places a boot in Gyoza’s face, causing the dwarf to slam on the brakes. Parish just manages to avoid slamming into the back of the truck, and he ditches the bike to aid Gyoza. The street sam, it seems, has everything under control, zapping the Laesa elf into sweet slumber. Tossing the elf to the side of the road, Parish takes control of the truck, and they speed to victory at the Daisy Chain.