Copyright (c) 1996 by Sebastien Andrivet Here's one more Lone Star NPC from GURPS Shadowrun campaign. He might be used in many campaigns as a cop NPC. If necessary, just say that he's a very stocky human... Sergeant Maxwell Rurk 32, ork, dishevelled blonde hairs, tanned skin, bloodshot blue eyes, fat (beer belly), smells of alcohol. Wears a dirty, crumpled trench coat with a whiskey bottle in one pocket. Also wears tasteless red suspenders over his gray shirt. ST 16 DX 11 IQ 12 HT 14/18 Spd 6,25 Move 6 Dodge is 6, Brwaling parry is 8, sword parry is 6, knife parry is 5 Ads : Ork (107), High Pain Threshold (0), Night vision (0), Contact (styreet 15, 15-, u. reliable : 12), Legal enforcement (5), Military rank A (5), Patron (Lone Star, 6) : 8), Strong Will +1 (5), Alcohol tolerance (5), No hangovers (5) Disads : Rep : ork (0), Social Stigma (0), Low life expectancy (0), Unattractive (0), Compulsive carousing (5), Wealth : struggling (10), Duty (15), OPH : eats like a cow (5), fat (5), alcoholic (15), glutonous (5). Quirks : Doesn't understand elves (1), wears red suspenders (1), wakes up *real* late (1), eat atrocious butter/chocolate sandwiches at breakfast (1), likes the number 7 (1), cares for Deedee (1) Skills : swimming (10), brawling (12), fast draw (handgun) (11), handgun (14), short sword (12), knife (11), police procedure (13), accounting (10), computer operation (13), criminology (12), forensics (12), psychology (11), Area knowledge (Barrens) (15), tactics (10), holdout (11), intimidation (13), shadowing (11), stealth (10), streetwise (14), drive car (9), agronomy (11). Rurk is normally loaded for bear. He's got a big vest, a fraggin' huge pistol (super Warhawk), a holdout, a retractible baton and a switchblade, all more or less hidden under his trenchcoat. Max was a country boy from the Midwest. He lived an archetypal, isolated country life, caring for his parents, some cows and a few fields. This sounds like a cliche now, but back then it was the good life, and the only life. He was simply growing things in the middle of nowhere. His older brothers and sisters had gone to find some work in the big cities, but as the youngest son he had to remain on the farm to help his parents until they died. But he liked the farm and the work there. He was particularly proud of his rippling muscles and his amazing health. Strong as an ox, he was. That was before Santiago Krelson. Santiago Krelson was an ork desperado from the south, fleeing the CAS. A nasty problem with the CAS Border Patrol cost him his two compadres, and put a bullet in his tigh. He drove straight ahead until he ran out of fuel and out of blood, crashing near Max's parents farm. Max's 'pa did not trust the police, having had a few problems with those "damn racists" in his youth. He hid his orkish brother, after relieving him of his weapons, and nursed him back to health. He did not know about the cybershotgun in Krelson's forearm. Krelson, a consumate, sadistic bastard, took Max's mother and father hostage, had them repair his car and drove away with them. When Max attempted to pump him full of shot, he was surprised by Krelson's boosted reflexes and was himself shot full of plastic flechettes. He laid there in his own blood for almost six days before he was discovered and sent to the hospital. The docs had to dig extensively to find *most* of the flechettes. When he learned his 'ma has had numerous sexual rapports with her kidnapper before being shot, and that his father had killed himself, Max began to drink. Heavily. When they kicked him out of the hospital, he was a pathetic wreck. He was no longer proud of his work at the farm, no longer strong as an ox. Just another damn orkish homeless. One of his big sisters, Cindy (all his big sisters had been named after XXth century supermodels), finally found him. She could not afford to desintoxicate him with her lousy maintenance technician pay, nor to feed him for too long ; beside Max and her husband were not getting along at all. But when, after one tense evening, the trideo aired something about a case not unlike what had happened to their parents, and then a "Wanted" note, Cindy gave back Max his orkish pride and sent him to his new career as a bounty hunter with a good kick in the ass. Max was even better at bounty hunting than at farming. Well, he was no longer a colossus. He had some flechettes slowly unburying themselves from his muscles, he was slower, weaker, much fatter, older, perhaps a bit less lucid. But he always had been quite bright, especially for an ork. And he had an unmatched understanding of the criminal mind (except for elves. He'll never understand elves). His robust body and strong will kept the worst effects of alcoholism at bay, and he became known as a good bounty hunter. Max can feel what's a perp is going to do, how he is going to act. He can walk in his shoes, and use that knowledge to his advantage. Numerous, expensive stays in detox clinics prevented him from buying bang-bang cybers, but he did not need them anyway. He worked as a bounty hunter from 17 to 22. He finally went to Seattle, and joined Lone Star to get a salary. They did not like him, but he had an impressive success record. He became a pretty good homicide detective for three years, cracking some tough cases and annoying most of his colleagues and superiors. But his problems with alcohol suddenly went into overdrive, and he was fired from the force as a complete drunk. Having heard of him, Lone Star Captain Goldberg had him sent to Discipline 7, and used his discretionnary funds to have Rurk treated again. Goldberg went cyberpsycho a few weeks later, and had to be shot by McGrudder. Max thought long and hard about being the recipient from the last act of kindness and humanity of a human captain, and seems to have gotten over alcohol. Not going into detox clinic for an entire year allowed him to save money, and the Discipline 7 added enough money from the Lone Star Widows' Fund for him to buy a Toxin Extractor. He feels much better now. Max is strongly reminiscent of the characer played by Mickey Rourke in The Year Of The Dragon, but smarter. He looks like a complete, brutal wreck, but he's really a decent, intelligent ork (less attractive than Rourke, though). While he sometimes miss the farm, he's a tough, street-hardened bounty hunter with a badge. Among his greatest loves are alcohol, immense amounts of food and parties. He is known in every bar in Seattle, esp. orkish ones. He spend most, if not all of his nights getting smashed in roaring parties, making new friends, eating *huge* quantities of the best food he can find, singing stupid songs and painting the town red. He then makes it back to the precinct with shadows under his eyes, smelling of alcohol and sweat, drink his 7 A.M. vodka bottle, consumes fantastic amounts of butter/chocolate sandwiches, goes to sleep, wakes up near 12 A.M. and starts to work. Max always work on seven killers at a time, because he likes the number. He's able to keep all seven psych profiles in his mind, in a nearly obessional manner, thinking just like the killer would, checking leads, sniffing stuff around the town. He doesn't always get his man, but is among the very best. He likes to work solo, but since he joined Discipline 7, he's found a team that did not judge him on his appearance and he's beginning to learn team work. One of Max's responsabilities in Discipline 7 is to care about Deedee (more on him later), wich he likes little the little brother he never had.