Pour l'instant, si bien. Arn a été surpris qu'il n'ait pas été arrêté dès qu'il s'est assis. S'il était un peu honnête avec lui-même, il s'attendait à être arrêté. Ces gens se sont juste démarqués trop pour ne pas être des agents S-K. C'était trop beau pour être vrai. Mais non, c'était réel. C'était en train de se produire.
Il a failli appuyer l'offre d'abri de la femme écarlate. Lui aussi avait un endroit où les coureurs pouvaient rester. Mais non, il ne pouvait pas leur offrir refuge. Son père le tuerait, et son grand-père mourrait probablement du choc.
Aeon est resté silencieux, sirotant la tasse en papier de soykaf devant lui. C'était la chose la moins chère que l'endroit offrait. Pire que l'eau, pire que la pourriture, mais si vous n'aviez pas d'argent, ou si vous vouliez vous tenir à l'écart du radar, ça a marché. Le soykaf du Fljót était meilleur que certains endroits, et il s'était habitué à l'estomac qui grinçait il y a longtemps.
Mais l'homme à l'air chinois a acheté quelque chose à quoi Arn pourrait se rapporter. « Je sais où déposer les choses », a-t-il dit tranquillement. "Autour d'ici, il n'y a qu'un seul endroit où la vermine de la rue fait confiance. Chez Herra Skáp. Seigneur Locker. Il n'y a pas de meilleure clôture à Vesturbær que je connaisse." Arn regarda autour, puis clarifia. « J'ai grandi ici depuis que j'étais jeune. La plupart de ma vie a été passée à New Reykjavik."
Il s'inclina la tête, et Skuggi sauta sur la table. Le petit chat a fondu une fois, puis s'est installé pour faire la sieste. Arn a lâché. « Si vous avez besoin de connaître votre chemin, je peux vous aider. Cependant, nous devrons travailler légèrement sur votre façon et votre style. Beaucoup d'entre vous ont mal au pouce. Les étrangers, I'owài. Nous devons changer cela avant toute mission dans ce domaine. Il serait nul d'être capturé en raison de négligence de camouflage."
Une main s'est posée sur Skuggi, fouillant la forme féline. « Je suis Aeon », a-t-il dit, pour commencer la circulation de l'information. Ils devraient construire la confiance les uns avec les autres pour survivre à ça, n'est-ce pas?
Arn Einarsson | 26 | Species: Half-Elf
"I would tell you to go to hell, but I do not want to see you there."
Alias:
Aeon
Appearance:
Arn is stylistically a street mage. He wears their stereotypical long coats which ward off the cold and disguise him from prying eyes. When more natural clothing is required, he wears graphic tees and jeans. Shorts are a rarity, if ever. His hair is dyed blue, but only because his hair glows blue when casting spells. It's harder to tell when Arn is using magic when his hair is always the same color. Instead, one must watch his eyes, which also glow brightly when channeling.
Background:
Arn has traveled to many places over the course of his short life. He was born to Einar, a human and Oddny, and elf, who had made their home in the then-Flux State of Berlin. He grew up running the streets of a chaotic microcosm. His friends were drug dealers, shadow-y tech salesmen, and street urchins. By all accounts, he should have ended up as an addict, selling his body, mind, and soul for another dose of Cram.
Instead, his father Einar found employment as a guard working for Sternschutz Security. He was a big man, given some low-tier chrome as part of his job. Once, Arn went wandering through the streets with his father, and became separated. When Einar found a junkie trying to hook his son up on something or other, he separated the dealer's arm from his shoulder.
Nobody tried to sell to Arn after that. Instead, the streets adopted him into their fold. None of the gangs cared enough about him to go after his father, and the unaffiliated were so terrified of Einar that, more than once, Arn returned home with more money than he'd left home with.
In retrospect, Arn should have been killed, or eaten, or mutilated, but he survived through a combination of luck and the watchful eyes of his father and friends.
When the corporate forces invaded in 2055 on behalf of the German government, Einar had been informed in advance by his employers of the event. He somehow managed to leave Sternschutz amicably, choosing instead to return to their home country, partially due to the failing health of Einar's father.
Once in New Reykjavik, Arn resumed his youth, growing from boy to young man. His father cared for his grandfather, and his mother returned to work as a Saeder-Krupp employee. He saw little of his mother after that. If not for the family home passed down through generations, Arn's family would have lived in a tiny corporate-owned apartment.
Then, one day, as Arn left to travel the streets of New Reykjavik on his thirteenth birthday, he accidentally set a cabbage cart on fire. As an elf, he'd known he was likely to have magic, but he hadn't ever expected it to actually happen to him. As it turned out, that cabbage cart was part of a series of carts who frequented the city, and now they were out for his blood.
For months after that, Einar kept Arn inside, shuttered away from the outside world. Arn became more and more rowdy, until he was liable to set the house on fire as well.
On an utterly unimportant day, a small, indo-chinese man knocked on their door. Einar nearly sent the man sprawling until the man, whose name was Talc, created fire in his hand. It took only a short time for Talc to convince Einar of his legitimacy.
From then on, Talc trained Arn. They started in Einar's home, practicing spells under Einar's watchful eye. As Arn's skills grew, he and Talc hit the streets, and Arn found that the cabbage stall was much less irritated with him when he created a new stall for them, bigger and better than the old.
Arn ran the streets with Talc for a decade, learning his craft, talking with the locals, and coming to call New Reykjavik his home. During that time, he lived as a rat. His mother made little money, and Talc was destitute as well. Together, with their illusions and light hands, the pair pulled off plenty of pickpocketing and con jobs on the upper-middle class. Enough to get by.
It didn't last. When Arn was twenty-three, Talc was caught trying to get into a Saeder-Krupp vault. He'd flown too close to the sun. Arn never saw the man again, and he was left to make his own living on the New Reykjavik streets.
Luckily, he'd made friends and built bridges, and while it isn't the easiest living, he manages. He keeps his head down when he can, but is capable of biting wit when required. Recently he made the jump from street rat to shadowrunner, with the promise of a great profit overriding his self preservation.
Skills:
Arn is a well-versed mage who specializes in battlefield control and manipulation. He is primarily skilled in illusions and manipulation spells, though he is competent as a healer and a combat mage. Detection is his weakest category of spellcasting.
Due to his movement throughout various areas of the world as he grew up, Arn can speak multiple languages, including English, French, German, Icelandic, City Speak, and rudimentary Mandarin (which he learned from one of his magical instructors).
Other skills include:
-lockpicking/knot tying
-sleight of hand/pickpocketing
-climbing
-handwriting forgery
-rudimentary hacking/hotwiring
-???
Equipment:
-General Mage materials
-Commlink
-Knife for self defense and carving
-Empty Credstick
-Fake SIN under the name "Kennedy Snow"
General Nonsense:
One day, when Arn was fifteen years old, a little black cat followed him home from his instruction. He's named it Skuggi. It seems to be a fairly magical cat, as he has witnessed it disappear and reappear through doors. Also, it may or may not be immortal, as it doesn't seem to be getting any older as time goes on.