Oh, I stated the weapons in the description but not the notes. They are:
Bowgun
Firelocks
Hand-cannon
Revolver
Semi-automatic pistol
((Ah, of course. Thank you.))
Ruark smiled at the potential haul to chose from, though he waited to show that smile until their mysterious sponsor had left. One-hundred credits, not earmarked for his cost-of-living or his father's illness... you add that to the pay bump he was getting and it made for quite the early holiday.
Johnny tagged a few items on his first pass through the Cartel folder, Survival gear, Retrieval gear, everything needed to make a successful jaunt from the Upper to the Under. The rest... that was slower pickings. For the most part he opted for non-lethal gear, but the C4 just sounded too useful to pass up. He ended up spending his entire hundred-cred stipend, but seeing as it was going into gear that was going to help him survive, Johnny Ruark didn't think it was that terrible a sin.
The hard part was picking out the two weapons the Cartel was gifting him, Johnny tried to avoid shooting whenever possible, and as such his knowledge of handguns was limited. The bowgun and the hand-cannons were discarded immediately, and the selection of revolvers followed shortly. Those decisions, however, caught Ruark between the Semi-auto and the impressive firelocks. He knew he only wanted one kind (only one kind of ammunition to carry that way), but which kind? In the end it was the beauty of the firelocks that persuaded him to pick out a matching pair. They were magnificent weapons, a deciding trait that seemed in keeping with what a showman like himself would carry.
Ruark became acutely aware of the dead silence as he finished selecting his gear. The only sounds were people picking up and setting down items, and, of course, the odd creak and click of the humanoid mech that seemed to be selecting objects with the rest of the smugglers. Odd. Though perhaps its owner was indisposed, and thus incapable of making the meet in person.
"Well," Ruark started, stridently shattering the silence,
"it would appear that we're all in a market for partners. My name is a Johnny, Johnny Ruark. I'm an honest tradesman of the arts and a slightly less honest smuggler. I enjoy long walks through moonlit slums, dining on meals that include recognizable food, and not being shot at. I have no intention of being shipped home in a cigar box, and as such I'm not going anywhere near the Sky Tower. Seek your companions elsewhere if blockade running is your aim." "So, now that that's out of the way, who are the rest of you?" Socialize. Take/Buy: Twin Firelocks (Free), Survival Kit (30), Retrieval Rocket (20), C-4 Charges (20), Parachute (10), smoke bombs (10), balloon bombs (10). Name: Johnny Ruark
Gender: Male
Age: 21
Race: Human
Preferred weapon tree : Spitfire
Liquid Assets: 0 Credits
Inventory,
Weapons
-Firelock Pistol x/X (Y)
-Firelock Pistol x/X (Y)
-Ammo Belt
-> Bouncing Bullets
-> Frost Bullets
-> Burning Bullets
-> G14 Buster
Explosives
-C4 Charge x3
-Smoke Bomb x5
-Balloon Bomb x10
Survival
-Survival Kit
-Retrieval Rocket
-Parachute
Ability focus:
Intelligence
Dexterity
Skills :
Performance Art: Johnny can play the guitar, sing, act, and (when the situation calls for it) strip. He has an excellent eye for what the crowd wants, and he's a talented performer.
Disguise: Earning a decent part of his keep as a thespian has given Ruark a great command of costume and makeup. Changing his appearance, manner, and voice to match a role is second nature.
---
Short bio : Johnny Ruark was brought messily into a life of poverty in the slums Upperearth. The chop-shop of a clinic where he was born botched the cesarean, nearly killing his mother and inflicting a cut on Johnny that ran from the top of his forehead down to his collarbone. It was a near thing in the end, but, despite the bungling "doctor", both Johnny and his mother survived.
Ruark's mother and father were both small time maintenance workers, though without the education level required to get steady work. As Johnny himself grew up, he took what poor work he could manage, although his light build made grunt work difficult, and his height was a downright hazard in maintenance. Ruark was working as a small goods courier, mostly packages too sensitive (and occasionally, though Ruark was unaware of this, too illegal) to trust to a mechanical, when the accident happened. One of the upper-workers on a reclamation job out south botched a seal on a burn line, causing the waste gases to drift down and puddle in the lower works, asphyxiating six workers. Johnny Ruark's mother was among them.
The families of the deceased workers were partially sponsored to alleviate the hardship, but the money Ruark's father received disappeared down the throat of a bottle as fast, and occasionally faster, than it arrived. For a long time all Johnny could think of was getting out of the life, and it was that desire to escape more than anything else that made him start working the dingy slum club circuit. He sang every song he knew, he acted out every play and story he could remember, and, when he turned sixteen and managed to pick up a mostly broken one at an estate sale, he played the guitar. His voice largely untainted by the vapors the workers were forced to inhale, and his fingers more bare of gruntwork calluses than most (though by no means bare), Johnny managed to eke out enough of a living to avoid starvation and keep his father from drinking himself into a hole. Life was not good, but it wasn't terrible either.
Now, in the present day, Johnny Ruark, occasionally known as Johnny Guitar, has made something of a name for himself as a regular attraction in the slum club circuit. He's a one man show, thespian, singer, musician, and if hired by the right woman for the right party, stripper. In all honesty, his Father's death spiral of unending thirst is the only reason the young Ruark needed to break into smuggling- the old man's drinking habits now require daily medication and neutralizer shots to prevent him from killing himself.
One day, Johnny Ruark hopes to be able to afford the intestinal implants necessary to keep his father's body from metabolizing alcohol, but that's going to mean a lot of dirty jobs, and maybe a bit of illicit Underearth magic on the side.
Still, Johnny doesn't mind. Being a smuggler has its own allure; it's just like being an actor, except more guns and fewer people clapping when you make a dramatic demise.
Appearance: Johnny Ruark is a tall but slender man, probably only weighing 140 pounds on a good week. His hair is brown and straight, kept a bit longer than most to accommodate a variety of roles- though for the most part Ruark keeps it in a twist-tuck hidden in the back of his shirt. His eyes are mix of two parts brown to one part green, not exactly striking, but Ruark has always been fond of them. Johnny's face is made up of sharp edges and hard lines, his career as a not-quite-starving artist making his natural strong jaw and prominent cheekbones memorably sharp and hawkish. When not covered up by stage cosmetics, a long scar becomes visible on Ruark's face, tracing it's way down from the top of his forehead, bisecting the tear-duct in his right eye, and then veering off down one cheek to continue on down his neck.
Cartel profit cut :
50% commission
20% housing & upkeep
19% pyramid commission
10% Imperial tax
= 1% Personal profit
Author
Topic: Cartel of the Sky — Convoy & Lab; (Read 14400 times)