Zachery "Zephyr" Elric phantom thief

[Mysticsage]

Attributes A
Skills B
Magic C
Metatype D
Resources (E)

25 karma spend

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Zephyr
Elf (0) Low light Vision

Positive attributes
Too Pretty to Hit (3)
Friends in high places (8)
Photographic Memory (6)
Erased (8): from everything


Negative attributes
Signature (10)
Creature of Comfort (10)
Allergy (uncommon mild) (5): headaches from visions brought on as part of his interaction with a magical being.

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Attributes (24)
BOD 3/6 (2)
AGI 6/7 (4)
REA 4/6 (3)
STR 3/6 (2)
WIL 3/6 (2)
LOG 4/6 (3)
INT 5/6 (4)
CHA 7/8 (4)
EDGE 1/6 (0)
ESS 6

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Skills (36/5)
Group
Sorcery 5


Active
Counter spellcasting 5
Ritual Spellcasting 5
Spell Casting 5
Palming 2 (2)
Stealth 3 (3)
Disguise 3 (3)
Pistol 3 (3)
Locksmithing 3 (3)
Perception 4 (4)
Gymnastics 3 (3)
Unarmed Combat 3 (3)
Assensing 3 (3)
Negotiations (4)
Impersonation (1)
Con (4)


Knowledge Skills (27)
Contracts 3
Psychology 3
Magical history 3
City Politics 2
Botany 3
City planning 3
Elvish 2
Gang Politics 2
Architecture 2
Popular fashion 1
Japanese 1
Law 1
Magical Theory 1


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Magic 3
Spells 5
Spatial sense extended
Punch
Heal
Stealth
Stunball

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Contacts 44 pts
Anything with * needs gm review
Friends in high places (28)

Phantom
Enigma fixer
C 9
L 1 costs quad
The genderless voice on the other end of a phone who works across the globe without ever actually showing their face or getting their own hands dirty and yet they somehow have their thumb on some of the more unique and eccentric parts of the shadows. Seen as a myth to some and others an omen of drek really not only hitting the fan but getting ready to explode if they are getting involved then something or someone must have caught this eccentric benefactors attention. As such this ghost in a box collects runners who are equally strange and would prove difficult to handle by most other fixers curating runs as much for the runner's benefit as for the clients. If there even is a client in the first place. A faceless mask who enjoys a good laugh at your expense as much as setting a decade-long plan into motion. While they seems at least at first glance to want to leave the world better than the shit hole where they found it. How that happens and what that means is as mysterious as the figure and his riddles.
Specialities: Access, unique Jobs, Introductions
Friends: ???
Enemies: ???

Lael Barick
Elf Information Broker
C: 9
L: 2 (Note: loyalty costs double)
Now, everyone in the shadows keeps their ear to the ground and those that don't usually wind up fertilizing soy. But there is a difference between your average street denizen keeping their ear to the ground and an actual professional information broker. When it comes to the Portland shadows, Lael Barick is one of the few that actually is willing to come down to the street level to give access to runners. Now just because she is accessible doesn't mean she is cheap. If you can't barter with some other really useful piece of information, she will charge you extra. Runners looking to hawk some paydata will usually look to her to offload for whatever she feels like paying. She makes sure to profit off of everything though and won't pay much unless you happen to stumble across something that will make even her pause.
Specialties: Buying information, Selling information, Introductions, Forgeries
Friends: None
Enemies: None
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Normal contacts
Steve Roderick
Elf Greenhorn Fixer (free)
C: 4
L: 2
Steve is an up and coming fixer looking to work his way to the top. Steve has only just broken into the big league scene and doesn't have the rep or clout to pull many strings but he has a reputation for seeming to have an endless supply of effort when it comes to scoring for a client. He has only just begun setting up runner teams and many of the unknowns have started to turn to him looking to get in on the action and get a name made for themselves rather than try to break into the scene by waiting in a runner bar hoping to get noticed.
Specialties: Miscellany (non-specialized costs only 175%), Side Jobs
Friends: Not yet
Enemies: Not yet

Asrian Talshra (10)
Ancient Captain
C: 6
L: 4 (Note: if not elf, loyalty costs 4x and can't be higher than 1)
The Shadows of Portland just would not be complete without the Ancients. Being the heart of the Tir, Portland has quite the contingent of Ancients. Large enough to rival some of the local organized crime outfits, the Ancients are the biggest street gang in Portland. Don't let their biker gang image and style fool you though, these guys are armed to the teeth (some suspect the Tir gives them surplus milspec hardware on the cheap) and train their recruits to be more than street punks. They say they are better trained than the corp runts in the constabulry and definately have bigger balls. And who, you might ask, leads these pointy eared maniacs? Asrian Talshra. Portland's captain of the Ancients knows the streets of his hometown like the back of his hand and is said to be able to get anything anywhere and his outfit specializes in moving guns and drugs around the Tir and through the northwest in shipment sizes that might surprise you.
Specialties: Guns, Drugs, Access, Side Jobs
Friends: Standard
Enemies: Standard


Running Deer
Troll Shaman (11)
C: 6
L: 5
The quintessential Amerindian shaman, Running Deer is an ork that walks with the spirits. Running Deer is a fixture in the local magic community. No one is quite sure how old he is but he certainly SEEMS old and wise. He likes to mentor newly awakened in the shadows and counts quite a few street magi among his pupils. No one really knows why he does what he does but the haters think he is building up some kind network of loyal pawns while most everyone else thinks he's just trying to turn the dimmer towards bright. Regardless, he seems to work hard to be on the good side of things and might just be that lone light in the shadows in an otherwise dark cityscape.
Specialties: Introductions, Magical good

Runner Deer is one of the few people Zephyr has told about his past and who is helping him try to regain his missing time and explore the connection that has been formed between his soul and whatever escaped from a magical painting

Doctor Frankenstein (6)
Elf Street Doc
C: 1
L: 5
Honest to God his name is Frankenstein and he's a doctor. He started up a small affordable clinic near the east barrens which was great PR for his patrons and attracted plenty of bleeding heart corp kids for volunteer labor. As time went on though, the corporate patron funding dwindled and the bleeding hearts stopped bleeding. and now the clinic is run by Friedrich Frankenstein all by his lonesome. Being a skilled, good natured, and affordable Street doc means he has plenty of friends but also plenty of problems. He seems to constantly get in trouble. He mostly funds his clinic these days by doing 'ware installations for runners or selling medical equipment to them but this is a slim margin to operate on and he frequently hits the red. This fact of life tends to see him in debt to one unsavory character or another as he tries to make ends meet while keeping his clinic open.
Specialties: Healing, Surgery, Medical supplies
Friends: Bleeding people, David Chen
Enemies: People he owes money

He goes to frankenstein when the dreams and visions have become to much to bare. The doctor agreed to give him preferential help if Zephyr agreed to a regular physical to map any and all additional changes that occur for the docters own research



Lorelai "Lore" Grave 9
Human technomancer
C 6
L 3
The head of her own little corner of the matrix known as the Infintium Archive is a master programmer and hacker. To others unfamiliar with her she would seem overly analytical with a memory longer than the list of the devils sins. But her metalic demeanor hides a dry humor that is just as sharp if not sharper then her wits.  She has little use for nuyen outside of what she can farm on her own time with her programming skills. What she values is information worth putting in the archive a compendium that she is personally curating for her own pet projects. Like creating a series of of the most famous fifth world novels to create a series of AI. Known as the Grimoires. She in particular trades anything she finds interesting or could prove useful in the future. From people's life stories to the forgotten formula to make Ice nine.
Specialties: Information, Hacking, software

Oliver "Kheiron" Langston 8
Centaur tinkerer
C 4
L 4

A former corporate engineer turned inventor and tinkerer once liberated and put on Phantom's payroll this gentle giant with a body larger than a clydesdale went from punk rocker in liverpools underground music scene to corporate head of manufacturing for a AA corp to making gadgets for runners and attempting to design air ships in his free time. Having made friends with Zephyr after the elf had rescued him from dying young at his desk job he has fabricated a number of his more unique gadgets including his costume promising that one day they would bot be able to fly. This centaur somehow striking a balance between grease monkey, an expert in engineering and enough colored hair gel that he looks like he belongs at a nightclub instead of a garage in Seattle.
Specialties: All Engineering skills, Armory, Forgery



Money 11,500
Lifestyle Medium 5000 spend
4d6 X100= 1,500
Equipment

Chameleon suit 1700
Colt agent special 250
Renraku Sensei 1000
2 tramua patch 1000
Lockpicks 250
3 stimpatches 300
10 rounds stick and shock 800

-Spend 2 karma for 4000 nuyen
-23 on contacts

[Mysticsage]

rolling starting money for life style

Rolled 4d6 : 5, 5, 4, 1, total 15

[Mysticsage]

Archive log 1 - immortality

Personal data

— secure connection established--
A fuzzy camera feed from a mid-tier commlink slowly comes to life and sharp focus as the image of a tall elf with somewhat long neon green hair, and a ratty Japanese pop idol t-shirt from two generations ago; first warped then clarified. The feed was as if it went from a classic vacuum tube television to high definition in a few seconds as the elf in his late teens early twenties messed with the settings.

"Shit Zephyr is this thing even on?" He mumbled to himself picking up the camera not realizing he was giving the feed a full tour of his small but high-end apartment. Synth fabric furniture that felt like leather or cotton mesh. A kitchen with a working stove, even acrylic flooring that felt like real wood. Plus no bugs and the addition of soundproof walls so he could paint or play his "studying and meditation" music as loud as he wanted.

"Why does that woman even want my life story as payment in the first place? she's lucky She refused to take nuyen of all things. If I was a man of less moral character I could take advantage of that.

Shit, the green blinking light means it's recording." The screen goes to static for a moment without actually cutting the feed before the elf now sitting at a desk in his bedroom comes back into focus.

"Hello, world!" He frowns at himself slightly, "that's how things like this are start right? Body and soul man! pull yourself together you are supposed to be more eloquent than this! Well, it's as good a start as any for the first take.

He then turns his hazel eyes to focus on the camera, "Um- my name is Zephyr, and this is the first and depending on how things work out, only archival recording of my life for the Infinitum Archive as payment to the head archivist for services rendered and I guess being a good friend of mine." He chuckled to himself.

"As a result, chummer, you get to listen to my life story told first hand, which while maybe not 100 accurate will get you to the truth of things faster than with the facts alone."
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To understand my early childhood the best place to start is with a phrase that stuck to my family even before the birth of the sixth world. The wind commands tribute from even the earth and those in heaven. A bit verbose I know, it never really gave me the warm and fuzzies either. But to be fair to whoever coined the phrase deep in the roots of my family tree; it sounds a whole lot better in the traditional elvish.

My family as one can imagine with a motto like that is old. Like so old some in the family like to claim we had a seat at the original council of far with Oberon. I'll be the first to tell you that even if it were true any clout we did have has long been spent, and belongs as my mother would say, in a history book which they can kindly shove up their ass for as much good it will do."

My mother a human married into the family and while she chose an academic as a husband she always valued achievement over perceived worth. When it was expected that she would stay locked up in my family estate raising me. I have been told she literally laughed my grandmother out of the house. She was independent, a bird refusing to be caged and a much-needed backbone for my father. My father is a warm-hearted man, who was perhaps too gentle for modern living; preferring instead of getting lost in the past. His habits would eventually make him very famous for his knowledge of the previous worlds and in particular their magical practices.

He had even with my mother's prodding, had a chance to read portions of Dunkelzahn's will on more than one occasion! But that's a story for another time. It's enough to say the reason I travel the world is for my mother and I stay at home reading because of my father. For better or worse I got more than my fair share of both their eccentrics in a household where questions were mandatory and answers were earned.

As a result, I was a troublemaker and an upstart in public and drilled constantly by tutors and my parents at home. There was a lot of pressure growing up being the son of the man who might put the family name on the map. Carry the torch as it were. Though I only just realize it looking back as my mother refused to let such pressures weigh me down.

I suppose that is one of the reasons we went to Japan for the first time. My father had work in Kyoto and my mother and I went to see the temples. Little did they know that would change a lot about how I saw the world. It was the first time I saw a superhero. Now, I have no clue what the archive has on the Nippon runner scene; probably a lot more than I can tell you now. I won't lie and say it's a picnic. It's one of the literally cutthroat places to run in the world except for maybe Azteclan, or the forbidden city.

That being said, runners looking to be a candle in the dark get few chances to make it big in the first place. They become the modern day Robin Hoods that get just as much coverage as an idol would. Gentlemen thieves who steal things right out from under the noses of the cops, all the while putting on a show, and doing their best to not spill blood. What more could a young boy who is dissatisfied with the world, and looking for a role model ask for? I was hooked, and from that point forward followed such thieves from across the globe religiously.

Now don't get me wrong there are risks being such a spectacle; mainly being eventually the corps and police will start getting wise. And doing any job worth doing requires a team and few professionals are willing to work with someone with that kind of baggage. That is unless they are protected or as crazy as you are.

Now before you ask no my parents didn't agree to let me be a runner. To be fair, I was not planning on it either. I made it through one of the world's foremost colleges on magical theory thinking I would be able to put my family name on a ritual or formulae some day.

That was until the winds of fate came to demand their tribute. It was the summer of my second year at university and everything was normal. My father was away on work headed to look at some kind of painting supposedly painted with alchemy and magic from even before the fifth world. The collector a fat pig of a man wanted it appraised and authenticated before loaning it out to some national gallery run by the corps. I'll say one thing, while that man hoarded things like a dragon he did have an eye for quality. The painting's created had been lost to time but the work had survived the rebirth of the world at least once. A landscape painted in classic style with oils on thick canvas. The art felt alive as we stared in rapture at it for the first time.

It was more than the same trite you might read about in some snobby art trid that was meant to impose on you the importance of the arts. As we worked in close nearly isolated proximity with the work it felt like it filled the entire room with a foreign kind of energy almost like the canvas was breathing. As if the painting was not a painting at all but a window into a foreign world and that if you got to close you might just fall right in. What we did not expect was someone or something to come out of the canvas instead.

Now the details of what manifested in that manor are fuzzy in my mind at the best of times, as if someone had spliced my memories with white noise from a ska concert, so don't expect much from me in terms of specifics. I'm still trying to tape together the pieces myself. I do know it was a spirit or being of some kind that walked out of that painting, like a ghost from a novel. I'll never forget that awe-inspiring presence even if I was so overwhelmed the exact features blur in my head as if they were stuck in repeat like some fifth world videotape. I know it made eye contact with me first instead of my dad,  said something about a contract I think before the sheer magical power in the space made me go unconscious.

They told me a month later when I woke up in the hospital that I had suffered from mana poisoning from overexposure to a raw source of magic, and that I was lucky to be alive. However, things only got stranger from there, when I asked if my father or the employer had survived it took to long to get an answer. They eventually told me that the manor house they had found me it had been abandoned for years before what they assumed was a ritual I performed went wrong. Nothing about my father or the mysterious painting. What was even stranger was when I tried to access my data I was denied total access. Everything had been whipped clean. My Sin, my records, everything gone. Even when I tried to contact my roommate or my family I got no answer.

Imagine chummer having your world erased overnight, No identity, no money, clothes destroyed you were a ghost to the world. Even my birth record was missing when they scanned my fingerprints I was a dead man breathing in the eyes of the world. Then the headaches hit. I still get them, glimpses of things, either visions or dreams that feel like a troll throwing punches in my skull. Visions that are hard to get hold of like trying to grab at sand with bare hands. All that is constantly clear are glimpses of that being's face as whatever they did bound us together.

And I think it's getting stronger. They found something like black ink on my back that I think is getting larger over time. Whatever that connection is I'm pretty sure it's messing with my magic. It took a good three months after I left the hospital to even cast a basic spell and it felt somehow different foreign. Still feels that way now even later on like it's somehow changed under my skin and I no longer know how to fully commune with where I get my powers

Now chummer you are probably asking as a newly minted ghost how did I pay for the medical care while comatose for a month. I only discovered who my mysterious benefactor was once I got released wearing scrubs that were a size too large. They handed me a comm link, in fact, this very commlink I'm using now. It only had one number on it and rang once I started getting nervous. On the other end, was a modulated voice that fluctuated from the use of a heavy voice modulator. They call themselves Phantom, they said they had been hacked into the mansion's security when the painting had gone berserk and had taken an interest in me before they lost the feed.

I still don't know how much I trust phantom or if what they told me about their involvement was true but they did seem to have answers about my circumstance. Space-time displacement as they called it. In short, fate got hit in the head that day and everything involving me went out the window. I know some runners who would kill their own mothers for that kind of restart but imagine a kid suddenly finding out they were ghosts in the wind. But that's just it, they were right even if they have yet to really explain why they of all people were spared from the mind wipe.

Now, this may be an aside but it's important to understand Phantom for all their mysterious has yet to screw me over. One might consider them a guardian angel with a really twisted sense of humor or a stalker with only my best interest at heart. They like throwing curve balls they once signed me up for a nude model for an art class when I said I needed help finding a way to make some above board spending money. Though I realized later it might be to measure the tattoo on my back over a long period of time. But when they are serious they are maybe one of the best fixers that no one knows about. They favor the odd and eccentric runners that struggle to find work normally and finding jobs for them. Usually through recommendations. His connections and knowledge base are worth of a quiz show.  But when your only choice is either Run or go hungry he has been a blessing. He was the one who suggested I become a phantom thief in the first place.

It was during those first few runs that I realized not only did I have a knack for this, but I seemed almost pulled to it. In particular, pieces with similar aura to my painting I seemed drawn to. I need something they have like a druggy needs Jazz. All and all I've only found one piece, an angle done in the Roman style but the moment I touched It I got the clearest vision I've ever had of the figure compelling me to "form the contract and be reborn." I still have not figured out the specifics of what that thing did to me. But over this past year of running making a name for myself, I finally have started to feel like I own my skin again thanks to phantom and the other friends I've made along the way no matter the magical puberty that I might be experiencing.

That's how I met Lorelai or Lore the head archivist was on a job from Phantom. Some may call her a cold fish but her knowledge base and hacking ability are unquestionable as a technomancer hidden away in her matrix blanket. But don't let her dry as a desert wit fool you she is surprisingly good at reading people, and someone who enjoys listening if not talking to others and is working to create a series of AI's known as the Grimoires using classic Novels from the fifth world as the source code. As a master of software and security when I've gotten stuck somewhere she isn't far to help me out.

Or Charon a British punk rock centaur with a knack for gadgets I saved him from a corporate desk job where they were sucking his creativity dry. He didn't believe that I woke up with my hair being acid green after the accident.  You wouldn't expect that a guy who was matched a Clydesdale could have such an eye for detail but he's one of the best for our weirder needs he even thinks he can build an airship one day.

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Now onto why I'm currently in Portland in the first place instead of my usual stomping grounds in UCAS, you're probably asking and my answer to you is I really don't have a clue. I had a set of visions that nearly split my head clean open and when I woke up the word Portland was scrawled over the walls. It also helped that Phantom just so happened to have a job opportunity involving the leader of the Ancients in the area. Yet another stepping stone both my career as a phantom thief and discovering what is going on in my life.

I'm still actively trying to work through the fucking crazy eye puzzle that is my life. Looking for clues in shapes and colors that makes my brain scream from the effort. But at least Portland for the time being is a place where I can rest. Hopefully by the end of this little side quest I've come out with more leads then dead end.