The Gunman's Tavern (159)

The slums of MercTown. Be careful what you do and say...the Merctown Defenders don't often come here.

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The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Augur » Sun Nov 23, 2014 7:39 am

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A Warrens version of The Job Market Cafe, this is a bar for hard-as-nails mercs looking for the word on new bounties, cold beer, and maybe some side-deals the authorities don't need to know about. It's a seedy dive that caters to Headhunters, Cyborgs, Bounty Hunters, Gunfighters, Gun Slingers, Assassins and other hard-nosed types.
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Jezebel » Thu Feb 16, 2017 11:04 pm

Perception: 1d20+9 = 28
JIC: 1d20 = 20 / 1d100 = 42

Jezebel saunters into the tavern studiously ignoring anyone who looks at her. She has eyes for only one man: the bartender. Walking straight to the first open space at the bar she sees, she leans over the bar just a little, raps her knuckles on the drink-stained wood to get the man's attention, and calls out to the bartender. "Double bourbon, Bart. It's been one hell of a day."
com⋅pli⋅cat⋅ed [kom-pli-key-tid] –adjective: 1. composed of elaborately interconnected parts; complex. 2. difficult to analyze, understand. Synonyms: involved, tangled, Jezebel
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Note: Critical strike on an unmodified roll of 18, 19 or 20.
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H.P.: 51
S.D.C.: 98/98
P.T.P.: 1550/1550
• Charm/Impress: 60%
• Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 88%
• Nightvision: 600'
• Resistant to Energy Damage
• Sensitive Hearing (20 decibels beyond normal human range)
• Can perform a non-combat action at no cost and without penalty even while engaged in combat
• Embodiment of physical perfection for her race; Appears to be one level higher and more powerful than actual; Tends to be fidgety and has trouble sleeping; Ambidextrous

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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Aether » Fri Feb 17, 2017 9:09 pm

Jezebel wrote:"Double bourbon, Bart. It's been one hell of a day."


A guy in a dirty white muscle shirt, who is severely lacking any muscles, turns and gives you one of the slowest elevator looks you've ever been on the receiving end of. He doesn't even attempt to look away from your chest when he talks, "Double hey, you're here all alone drinking doubles?" He turns and starts pouring something that may or may not be bourbon as he keeps talking, "Not that I'm going to judge anyone in here, especially not a pretty girl like you." He turns back with two drinks and sets them more in front of himself than in front of you and points to an area across the bar with his left hand, "The job board is over there if you are looking." Regardless of if you look or not, out of the corner of your eye you catch him making a bad attempt at dropping something into the drink in his right hand before sliding it across the bar to you. "I hope you don't mind if I buy you this one and have one with you."
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Jezebel » Sun Feb 19, 2017 2:26 pm

OOC: Is this just some dude, or the bartender? Is it dark enough in the bar for her to go without her optic glasses?

(rolls carried over)

Inwardly, Jez rolls her eyes having seen the dumbass trying to dose her. Frak, you'd think the guy would realize that a 'pretty girl like me' doesn't just walk into a place like this if she can't handle herself. She runs a finger from her neck down along the contour of her waist and down the outside of one thigh to distract him, and with her free hand switches the drinks (multi-tasking). Jez plays along with the rube's antics. "Oh, is that where mercs find jobs? I was thinking of maybe doing that, being a merc, I mean. Work here in the Warrens being kind of scarce and all. I don't read so good. Could you give me a run-down of what's available here in town?" If it's not dark inside the bar, she's wearing her goggles and will point to them as if they're somehow involved with her ability to read. If it dark in the bar, she'll point to them hanging between her breasts for the same reason.
com⋅pli⋅cat⋅ed [kom-pli-key-tid] –adjective: 1. composed of elaborately interconnected parts; complex. 2. difficult to analyze, understand. Synonyms: involved, tangled, Jezebel
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Note: Critical strike on an unmodified roll of 18, 19 or 20.
-10% Penalty when using skills to operate in unfamiliar, high-tech Rifts science & engineering fields.
H.P.: 51
S.D.C.: 98/98
P.T.P.: 1550/1550
• Charm/Impress: 60%
• Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 88%
• Nightvision: 600'
• Resistant to Energy Damage
• Sensitive Hearing (20 decibels beyond normal human range)
• Can perform a non-combat action at no cost and without penalty even while engaged in combat
• Embodiment of physical perfection for her race; Appears to be one level higher and more powerful than actual; Tends to be fidgety and has trouble sleeping; Ambidextrous

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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Captain Marks » Wed Feb 22, 2017 9:45 pm

Glancing through the fuggy bar's interior toward the job board the bartender's eyebrow raises as his attention turns to following the oubliette like curves that are Jezebels assets. Reaching out unwisely he takes the switched drink, raises it to clink glasses with Jezebel he says,"Drink up little lady!" in toast before quaffing the double shot to slam the empty glass into the bar. A moment passes as he digs his tongue between his teeth like sand was stuck there. Peering down into the glass he'd just drank his nose and brow crinkle, making an ugly face more so, as he contemplates the strange flavor making a,"Hmph." sound in confusion.

If he'd had wisdom to try his drug and know it's flavor, he might have recognized the different in his not-bourbon attempt to hide the flavor. All he could muster however was a sour smile saying to Jezebel,"Damn, that is some rank tasting bourbon." Turning he picks up several bottles, weighing them and staring at the labels as he says,"Well, I guess since you don't read so much, you couldn't sort which label is which?" Grinning as if a wild joke had just been told he pulls out a bottle at least labeled bourbon. Pouring the amber contents into two single shot glasses he puts them on the counter saying,"Here you are, what you actually ordered."

Pausing he steps back from the bar and puts a hand to his head,"Oh, I feel like that shit I just gave you." Shaking his head he picks up the shot of bourbon with bottle in the other hand and takes a strait drink from the bottle. After several like swigs he says,"Well, that's better! Since you can't read, I'll tell you straight. The board is mostly a sham. Shit work for shit workers." Swaying a little as he points a thumb to the back dumping his shot glass over his shoulder he adds with confidence,"The real jobs are in back. Toby gives em out to those he trusts... I mean Drifter." The bartender's eyes clearly question the veracity of his words as he looks down, up and to the sides,"Yea, so anyway, you need someone ki..."

From down the end of the bar a man's voice yells,"HEY!" causing some of the bar to stop and stair. Stomping up to Jez and the barkeep the owner of the voice checks the bartender in the chest with two fists shoving him backwards screaming,"What the hell is this? Stop drinking the product!"

Turning to Jezebel the man is in a nice orange tailored suit that accents his dark hands adorned on one with a silver ring, rubs them into his tightly skinned face with his palms, as if washing his dark features of misery. Dropping his hands to hover before his face, green eyes intently lock onto Jezebels own, not anywhere else. Nodding in greeting his hand wipes his scalp uncomfortably as he gestures politely with a nod over his shoulder for Jez to follow.

Bringing her to a back room should she deign to follow the man, he turns and closes a thick metal door behind her as she enters. Scratching his scalp the man appears full of mannerisms even though he looks professional, if not confused as to how he should approach the situation as he speaks further,"I'm sorry that happened." Sighing he clarifies,"That he got caught. That was impressive on your part, Bartholomew is good with his hands." Gesturing to a nice leather couch for Jezebel to seat herself in the man sits on the counterpart across from it.

Smiling his nervousness resets,"Now that the cat's out of the bag... You can choose to do what the board has, protection, find a lost person..." Nodding as he straightens his suit he continues,"The usual fair for mercenaries. Or you can do some of the dirtier business that pays well." Steepling his hands he finishes,"Very well for individuals willing and capable of putting their acumen to the task." Pulling a manila document out from a side desk, likely from a dead drop somewhere else, he proffers a document toward Jezebel stating and asking,"You have a long reputation that hasn't been noted in a place as this." Tapping the document with his silver fingered ring he asks,"Is dirtying your hands with a little red an arrangement you may handle?

Smiling he finishes ironically,"We're all about being honest here. Clients have business, professionals handle the need."

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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Jezebel » Wed Feb 22, 2017 11:02 pm

Perception: 1d20+9 = 29
JIC: 1d20 = 7 / 1d100 = 23

Jezebel squints behind her goggles at the big man. Big men always think they're so tough, so important, so...immortal. They never adequately realize their own mortality or how close they are to a meeting with Setis at any given moment. Her eyes may be squinting behind her goggles, and her mind focused on death, but the rest of her face is all warm smiles and a casual, professional demeanor. "Well now, I'm nobody's killer-for-hire, if that's what you're asking. I live by my own standards. Somebody deserve to die? Somebody need roughing up? Tell me the truth now. I can always tell when a man's lying." She pokes the side of her head with a finger. "I drink to quiet the voices of others, you know."

Invoke Trust/Intimidate ☞ 40% / 1d100 = 2 (Crit success!) or Interrogation ☞ 85% / 1d100 = 8 (success!)--whichever is more appropriate to extracting the truth from Bart.
com⋅pli⋅cat⋅ed [kom-pli-key-tid] –adjective: 1. composed of elaborately interconnected parts; complex. 2. difficult to analyze, understand. Synonyms: involved, tangled, Jezebel
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To help support this site, use paypal.me/LloydRitchey
Note: Critical strike on an unmodified roll of 18, 19 or 20.
-10% Penalty when using skills to operate in unfamiliar, high-tech Rifts science & engineering fields.
H.P.: 51
S.D.C.: 98/98
P.T.P.: 1550/1550
• Charm/Impress: 60%
• Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 88%
• Nightvision: 600'
• Resistant to Energy Damage
• Sensitive Hearing (20 decibels beyond normal human range)
• Can perform a non-combat action at no cost and without penalty even while engaged in combat
• Embodiment of physical perfection for her race; Appears to be one level higher and more powerful than actual; Tends to be fidgety and has trouble sleeping; Ambidextrous

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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Kat Porter » Thu Feb 23, 2017 4:29 pm

Perception: 1d20+5 = 16
JIC d20: 1d20 = 9
JIC d100: 1d100 = 48

I.D. Undercover Agent 65%: 1d100 = 17
Prowl 68%: 1d100 = 100
Streetwise 63%: 1d100 = 52
Tailing 72%: 1d100 = 43

The Warrens is Kat's home turf. It's where Kat would go to ground if someone was after her. But that doesn't make it safe. Kat avoids all the old Greenskin areas, even though she's pretty sure that gang is done for as a threat to her. If Kat would find it more than 10 minutes out of her way to go around, the City Rat will try to sneak through. All the while Kat has her eyes out for tails and people acting out of place.

Arriving at the Gunman's Tavern, Kat clips her helmet to her belt and approaches the bar, checking out the looker dressing down some dude in a suit. Hunh. She's a looker. Not exactly a good thing with the slavers in business in town. Something about her stance says to Kat 'Let them try.' Intrigued, Kat catches the tail end of the hot chick's spiel.

Some Slaver's Worst Nightmare wrote:She pokes the side of her head with a finger. "I drink to quiet the voices of others, you know."


"Excuse me, I'll have a double of whatever she's having." Kat jerks her thumb at the woman talking to the man in the suit. "And another for her."

Before drinking, Kat holds up her glass to the woman. "Voices don't quiet themselves." And down the hatch goes the shot. Kat grimaces slightly, but still immediately calls out "Another." while slamming down the glass.
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P.P.E.: 19
H.P.: 24
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Perception Bonus: +5
Charm/Impress: 20%
Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 65%
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Merchant of Death » Thu Feb 23, 2017 11:01 pm

Homecoming
As Kat walks through town, she tries hard to stay inconspicuous, but something still nags at the back of her brain. Entering the tavern she definitely sees Jezebel with her two drinks, then led into the back room. The bartender gives Kat the two drinks, with a bit of a gruff. Only after Kat had the drink up to her lips, she catches something out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey," the man was a bit blusterous and drunk. "I know you... don't I?" Slamming his drink down next to Kat, the greenish liquid slops out and onto the bar. His dank breath is heavy and obnoxious. "I have seen you before... Uptown right? A Merc." He pushes his fat body a bit closer and into her personal space. "I know you..." his voice gets louder. "Flea Market!"

Dirty Deeds, Not Done Cheap
Jezebel is in the back, working her feminine wiles against her would be patron. He starts to backpedal from his comments as Jezebel grills him on what he means about getting her hands a little red. "The pay is good, but if you are not up for that work, that's on..."

A loud knock on the door interrupts their conversation, "Boss! Boss! We got one of the Flea Market Murderers here, Kat Porter!" Additional loud noises and crashing can be heard from the other side of the door. "Oh! Frak!"

"Excuse me, I need to take care of this..." Standing up, the man runs to the door.

Barroom Brawl
Kat is standing four feet away from from her would be attacker. "You killed my wife! My daughter! They were only there to bring me new gear. And you killed them!" His fat pudgy finger points at Katherine Porter. "That stunt you did, selling contraband. You killed them! And I'm going to kill you!"

With the declaration of death from the drunken butter troll, Kat notices the man who had just left with the beautiful woman race back.

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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Jezebel » Thu Feb 23, 2017 11:57 pm

Perception: 1d20+9 = 29
JIC: 1d20 = 1 / 1d100 = 48

Jezebel's professional smile widens. Her teeth glisten as they're bared a bit more than previously. These stupid sons of bitches. Well, let's see how this woman handles herself. The MAAs...the Defenders, rather, this is their job--ensuring the peace, resolving disputes, all that civic duty shit, right? Well, they can figure out who has the better claim in their court system, but if this asshole thinks he can just murder some gal in cold blood because he thinks there's been an injustice done to him...well, it seems someone needs to correct his misapprehension of reality. Jez shoulders right past the guy who'd been pitching her a deal. She then shoulders past the belligerent asshole causing a scene to make her way to the bar. "Six whiskeys. Line 'em up." She raises her voice a bit to get asshole's attention. "And be quick about it, barkeep! I want something fiery to drink to cover the smell of this asshole's blood when she guts him like a holiday beast!" She wears a toothy grin as she flashes Kat a winning smile as if to convey the message Well, show us what you got.

Contingency #1: If anyone acts against Jez she will respond with unrestrained violence.

Contingency #2: If anyone draws a gun on Kat, Jez will act in defense of the woman's life.

In the case of either contingency, please allow us to post our specific actions in response to events as they happen.
com⋅pli⋅cat⋅ed [kom-pli-key-tid] –adjective: 1. composed of elaborately interconnected parts; complex. 2. difficult to analyze, understand. Synonyms: involved, tangled, Jezebel
Don't PM this account. Send all PMs to Augur.
To help support this site, use paypal.me/LloydRitchey
Note: Critical strike on an unmodified roll of 18, 19 or 20.
-10% Penalty when using skills to operate in unfamiliar, high-tech Rifts science & engineering fields.
H.P.: 51
S.D.C.: 98/98
P.T.P.: 1550/1550
• Charm/Impress: 60%
• Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 88%
• Nightvision: 600'
• Resistant to Energy Damage
• Sensitive Hearing (20 decibels beyond normal human range)
• Can perform a non-combat action at no cost and without penalty even while engaged in combat
• Embodiment of physical perfection for her race; Appears to be one level higher and more powerful than actual; Tends to be fidgety and has trouble sleeping; Ambidextrous

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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Kat Porter » Fri Feb 24, 2017 11:53 am

Perception: 1d20+5 = 14
JIC d20: 1d20 = 5
JIC d100: 1d100 = 51

Charm/Impress 20%: 1d100 = 10
Invoke Trust/Intimidate 65%: 1d100 = 67
Barter 68%: 1d100 = 23 ('selling' her story)
Lore: D-Bee 53%: 1d100 = 76
Recognize Weapon Quality 53%: 1d100 = 93 (other folk's guns)

Kat hears some words she didn't want to hear today.

Drunk Butter Troll wrote:"Hey," the man was a bit blusterous and drunk. "I know you... don't I?"


I hope not. Today is not a good day to die. Kat panics a little inside, but tips back her shot and drinks up. Then she 'accidentally' drops the glass. While pretending to grab for it with her left hand, Kat surreptitiously pushes the chest panel that activates her armor's force field with the other. Then she sets the glass (or the biggest pieces thereof) on the bar.

Drunk Butter Troll wrote:Slamming his drink down next to Kat, the greenish liquid slops out and onto the bar. His dank breath is heavy and obnoxious. "I have seen you before... Uptown right? A Merc." He pushes his fat body a bit closer and into her personal space. "I know you..." his voice gets louder. "Flea Market!"


I guess I deserve this. Please by the twelve divines let me talk him down. I just wanted a fucking drink. Kat's thoughts flicker through several different layers in a disorganized manner. But the City Rat has decided on a course of action- she will open her mouth, and pray not to insert her foot.

Kat sighs loudly and turns to face the man. "Nobody EVER remembers me busting my hump to help save a bunch of citizens from a buncha damn Deevil SLAVERS. Nobody remembers I helped rescue a fucking PRINCESS. No, they remember that somebody tried to kill me in the middle of MercTown, and FAILED. Instead, the idiots took out some innocent shoppers. Why don't you find a Greenskin to lynch? Them and the Horsemen are the ones who actually killed all those people. But you want someone easy to blame, by Hades, and I'm right here. Doesn't matter what I've done since. So go ahead and start this. I don't think it will be any easier for you than it was them that day."

Drunk Butter Troll wrote:"You killed my wife! My daughter! They were only there to bring me new gear. And you killed them!" His fat pudgy finger points at Katherine Porter. "That stunt you did, selling contraband. You killed them! And I'm going to kill you!"

With the declaration of death from the drunken butter troll, Kat notices the man who had just left with the beautiful woman race back.


Kat's face briefly contracts when the man mentions his wife and daughter.

Was that... regret? Never from Kat..... Right?

It probably helps that most of the story is true, as Kat saw it.

Today is not a good day to die. "I am not Atlas. I don't carry all the weight of these deaths alone. I made a reckless, dumb choice. That's true, man. But I was even following the law this time. Half of it was I didn't know what kinda money that suit was really worth. But it's not contraband. Not here, man. This is MERCTOWN. Ninety percent of what this town sells is 'contraband' in the way you mean it- that it's illegal in the Coalition. I don't know about you," Kat pauses and makes a show of looking around. "but I don't live in the Coalition. What happened is someone wanted what we had without paying for it, and we told them to get fucked. Then they pulled out the big guns. They weren't big enough to kill us, but anyone around us...." Kat seems to deflate somewhat. "Well it was fucked. But we tried, man. My friend took a missile to the face that was gonna blast a whole crowd of folks. I even jumped in front of fire that day. And I like my skin as much as anyone else."

Kat's volume lowers somewhat "How much of that day was my fault? More than most people in this bar, but far less than many in this town. You wanna kill me? You best wait until I'm done finding out what happened that day. A lot more people with a lot more responsibility then me will be dead before I'm done. Or I'll be dead. Either way, it's better for you than finding out if you have what it takes when a couple dozen missiles clearly didn't."

Contingency: Kat gets attacked

Kat will respond with an equal show of force. Fisticuff for fisticuff*, unless their fist is connected to any of those beings Kat readily identifies as a lethal weapon- Juicers, Crazies, 'Borgs, Giants, and so forth. Those kinda folk meet plasma. Someone pulls a knife, Kat will go for hers. Someone shoots at her, Kat will draw her NE-6SL.

*Beer bottles, pool sticks, and furnishings are fair game in Kat's definition of fisticuffs. As are low-blows, eye gouges, and biting.
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Kat Porter

P.P.E.: 19
H.P.: 24
S.D.C.: 39
Perception Bonus: +5
Charm/Impress: 20%
Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 65%
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Townsend » Wed Mar 01, 2017 8:21 pm

It's a bad day to be Katherine Porter. Or anyone resembling her, with the same name as her, or associated with her.
It's also not a super-duper day to be in the same establishment as her, for that matter.

If Kat was ever wondering whether or not the residents of the Warrens had forgotten about the unfortunate incidents to which she was linked, or whether or not the residents of the Warrens had forgiven her for her involvement in them, she had her answer plain as day.

Still, she isn't going down without a fight -- or at least a good argument. And it good argument it is. The butter troll is still just as angry as he was before, but his hand had gone from gripping the vibro-blade at his belt to simply resting on its handle. It's a good enough argument to keep her alive for at least another five minutes.

There's only one problem, and it's a large problem. Call it a 6 foot 2 inch tall problem. A she-bull in a china shop that seems to be every bit as eager to start a fight as is the butter troll. Jez's purposeful shove and pointed taunt re-kindle the butter troll's murderous spirit. "BITCH!!! I'll gut YOU first!" he almost screams as he whips out the blade and starts to lunge at her.

Before Jez can react, however, the troll's attack is stopped before it can really begin thanks to a large partial cyborg who grabs his wrist and forces it behind him with some all-too-audible cracking/snapping noises that are almost drowned out by the combined screams/curses/moans/sobs from the would-be killer as he's unceremoniously dragged out of the tavern.

Jez and Kat find themselves alone at the bar with quite a bit of ‘personal space’ (even the bartender having moved away a conspicuous distance). However, any potential thoughts of their being awarded it out of respect are quickly dashed by the tell-tale sounds of numerous weapons being drawn from all sides. There are even a few flashes from laser sights playing about the ladies’ torsos and heads.

The well-dressed man draws himself up to full height. MISS Porter, normally I detest the idea of blood being spilled in my establishment… but I doubt very seriously I’d have a hard time finding enough volunteers to help clean up the mess just for the pleasure of seeing your blood being spilled.” He glances between the two ladies. “You have a burning desire to stir up trouble, then go do your stirring over at the Ogre’s Den.” His eye lock on to Kat’s with a gleam that makes her decidedly uncomfortable. “I’m sure they’d love to see you show up.” He sighs and brushes a bit of lint off his suit. “As for me, I’d love to see you both leave. Now. And if either of you ever come back in here, then I’m sure I’ll love seeing your corpses serving drinks at The Mausoleum… if you take my meaning.”

He glances around the room. "Now I'm fairly certain that these other 'patrons' won't start shooting for another good five seconds, maybe even six or seven. But if you're still here beyond that, I have the feeling that violence will ensue." He starts backing into the back room where he and Jez were discussing their 'business offer' just a few minutes before. "Have a nice day..." he adds with a smile.



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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Kat Porter » Wed Mar 01, 2017 11:01 pm

Perception: 1d20+5 = 16
JIC d20: 1d20 = 12
JIC d100: 1d100 = 90

General Repair & Maintenance 53%: 1d100 = 7

Wow. This chick is worse at making speeches than I am. As the 'suit' begins backing toward the office door, Kat begins backing toward the front door, her hand going to the NE-6-SL on her hip as she goes. Kat glances toward Jezebel. "Miss, I think it's time to go. Tonight, we hang separately or we stick together."

If Kat makes it out the door, the City rat hits her top running speed for the nearest alleyway, motioning to Jez to keep following. In the alleyway Kat finally offers an introduction."Thanks for making that worse in there. I'm Kat." Kat offers her hand for a shake. "We should get the hell out of the Warrens. I'm done bein' homesick for at least another six months. You got a ride or are we hoofing it?" Kat pops her lid back on her head and checks the door of Gunman's to see who all decided to hunt Kat today.

Pulling the Slim-Line Baretta out of her pocket, Kat checks the action. Then the City Rat jams it in her empty left holster. In case I need suppression fire. Then Kat double checks her action on the NE-6-SL.
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Kat Porter

P.P.E.: 19
H.P.: 24
S.D.C.: 39
Perception Bonus: +5
Charm/Impress: 20%
Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 65%
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Jezebel » Thu Mar 02, 2017 4:36 pm

Perception: 1d20+9 = 22
JIC: 1d20 = 7 / 1d100 = 6

Bart the asshole barkeep wrote:He starts backing into the back room where he and Jez were discussing their 'business offer' just a few minutes before. "Have a nice day..." he adds with a smile.

Jez flashes him the finger with a dour, disappointed look. "Thanks for the free drinks, Barf!" Jez dips out the front door with alacrity even before Kat makes the suggestion.


Merctown's Least Congenial Award Winner wrote:In the alleyway Kat finally offers an introduction."Thanks for making that worse in there. I'm Kat." Kat offers her hand for a shake.

Momentarily alarmed by the physical action toward her, Jez at first recoils from the proferred hand. She then gets a hold of her anxiety, and grasps the young woman's hand with her own. "Sorry about my reaction. I'm Jez. Fair warning: don't touch me without my permission or by surprise. I tend to freak out a bit, and that can be unhealthy." For you. "And don't sweat those assholes. Their type don't respond to arguments, only violence. Bart's intercession is the only thing that kept that place from becoming a bloodbath."

Funky Punk Rock Girl wrote:"We should get the hell out of the Warrens. I'm done bein' homesick for at least another six months. You got a ride or are we hoofing it?" Kat pops her lid back on her head and checks the door of Gunman's to see who all decided to hunt Kat today.
"Nice piece, Kat." Jez tugs on her right pants leg to flash her own NE-3, then opens her fatigue jacket to reveal the twin ten millimeters nestled in the harness beneath. Jez grins. "Seriously, those dudes would have been totally screwed, and yeah, we can ride if you don't mind taking chances. My Hornet is a one-seater, but I'm an excellent driver. If you're up to hanging on outrigger-style, I can compensate. C'mon." Jez doesn't run in situations like this. She saunters. Sauntering her way to the Hornet around the corner, she adds, "You look a bit down on your luck and low on friends. That can be a pretty big bummer. Let's go get some grub. My treat. I feel like something exotic since I didn't have a chance to punch anybody. I know just the place." She slides a leg over the Hornet's seat and reaches up to plant her hand on the center of the control console. "Don't freak out like a little bitch." The hand planted on the control surface...alters. Her long, exquisitely shaped fingers change into tendrils that look metallic and cybernetic in nature. Those tendrils seem to melt into the console. The Hornet purrs to life. "Let's go."

Hovercycles, Skycycles & Rocket Bikes ☞ 94% when merged / 1d100 = 73

(To the Celestial Dragon)
com⋅pli⋅cat⋅ed [kom-pli-key-tid] –adjective: 1. composed of elaborately interconnected parts; complex. 2. difficult to analyze, understand. Synonyms: involved, tangled, Jezebel
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Note: Critical strike on an unmodified roll of 18, 19 or 20.
-10% Penalty when using skills to operate in unfamiliar, high-tech Rifts science & engineering fields.
H.P.: 51
S.D.C.: 98/98
P.T.P.: 1550/1550
• Charm/Impress: 60%
• Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 88%
• Nightvision: 600'
• Resistant to Energy Damage
• Sensitive Hearing (20 decibels beyond normal human range)
• Can perform a non-combat action at no cost and without penalty even while engaged in combat
• Embodiment of physical perfection for her race; Appears to be one level higher and more powerful than actual; Tends to be fidgety and has trouble sleeping; Ambidextrous

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Jezebel
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Kat Porter » Thu Mar 02, 2017 11:20 pm

(Rolls Held)

Lore: D-Bee 53%: 1d100 = 97
Recognize Weapon Quality 53%: 1d100 = 48

Kat makes an appraising look at Jez's arsenal. Good enough for a night in the Warrens, for sure. Maybe a week with enough ammo... Kat follows the loud-mouthed woman to her hovercycle.

"Given my options, I'd be happy to cling on a unicycle over walking back to the hotel. Much less a hoverbike."

"You're only half right, by the way. I may be low on friends, but I'm not quite down on my luck. Grub sounds good, but we're going dutch."

"Ummm. But how do i hold on without touching you?" Kat follows whatever directions Jez gives about how to hang on. When Jez melds with the hovercycle, Kat perks up. Interesting....

(The Celestial Dragon)
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Kat Porter

P.P.E.: 19
H.P.: 24
S.D.C.: 39
Perception Bonus: +5
Charm/Impress: 20%
Invoke Trust/Intimidate: 65%
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Re: The Gunman's Tavern (159)

Postby Flynn » Fri Apr 06, 2018 7:38 pm

Perception: 45% 1d100 = 42
JIC: 1d20 = 6
JIC%: 1d100 = 100

The doors fly open as Flynn bursts into the room, striking a heroic pose which silhouettes the frame. He holds the pose long past what's comfortable for anyone in the room. Sauntering to the bar he jauntily states, "Barkeep, I'd like your finest ale!" He gives the bartender a giant smile.
Flynn
PPE: 21/21
ISP: 40/40
HP: 56/56
SDC: 217/217

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M.D.C. by Location:
• Head/Helmet - 50
• Arms - 35 each
• Legs - 45 each
• Main Body· 72
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