Everything

Whether or not they fight for fun and profit (as per the Mage 20 “Thug” and “Professional Badass” entries pp. 620621), some folks are pretty damn tough. Truckers, freight handlers, ironworkers, bodybuilders, athletes, martial artists, farm workers, warehouse personnel, military veterans, and other otherwise normal human beings whose work and play involves a lot of physical activity… they’re not people you want to mess with. They may not be violent by inclination and might sometimes — as with professional dancers — not seem like much unless you realize just how physically fit they really are. If push literally comes to shove, though, these people are in no way “pushovers,” even if you’re a mage.

Although Physical Traits define a hardcase, these sorts of people can be damned smart, sociable, or both, as well. The common preconception of physically fit morons is often belied by the people themselves. With or without martial or other skill sets, however, a strong person of any gender can do things a less-capable person cannot manage. If their physical prowess is obvious to the eye, these folks often seem more socially attractive than average, too. There are reasons, after all, that celebrities and executives employ personal trainers, and why models spend so much time in the gym.

Sadly, the human body tends to break down under stress; thus, hardcase types generally fade out when middle age begins to remind them how much wear and tear they’ve put on their bodies. That said, some folks (thanks to an apparent immunity to chronic pain and damaged joints) manage to stay in peak physical condition up into their elder years. As shown by the Aging Flaw in (The Book of Shadows, p. 40), physical aging can weaken a person, but doesn’t always do so. Thus, the right person can be a hardcase even if she’s got grandkids and a retirement check.

Suggested Attributes: Strength 3-5, Dexterity 2-4, Stamina 3-4, Charisma 1-4, Manipulation 1-3, Appearance 1-3, Perception 2-4, Intelligence 1-3, Wits 2-4

Suggested Abilities: Area Knowledge (scene of choice) 1-5, Athletics 1-4, Brawl 1-5, Drive 1-3, Intimidation 2-4, Law 1-3, Politics 1-3, Technology 1-3 (plus an array of Abilities that suit an individual’s mundane and other pursuits.)

Willpower: 3-5

Health Levels: OK, ‒1, ‒1, ‒2, ‒2, ‒5, Incapacitated

Equipment: The tools of one’s trade.

Image: A person in unusually fit physical condition, possibly marked — for better and worse — by the stresses and risks of their vocation.

Roleplaying Notes: “Seriously? You’re messing with me? Are you sure that’s really what you want to do?” Some of these folks are the proverbial bullies, but others avoid trouble unless it insists on making itself their business.

Jeremy Bruckner

When that 18-wheeler roars past your car, you probably don’t give much thought to the man or woman behind its wheel unless it’s to curse at them for being there. Jeremy Brucker knows your curses well. He’s been trucking for almost 20 years, with the aching back, strong arms, big belly, and the 1,000-yard stare that all come with that vocation. Jeremy’s hit every truck stop, rest area, access road, and all-night coffee shop in the United States… or so it seems to him, anyway. Got food in your supermarket? Books at your bookstore? That car part or Amazon order that you couldn’t wait to receive? Thank Jeremy and the million truckers like him.

You see a lot of weird shit on the roads, especially after midnight when only the cops, insomniacs, and truckers are around to see it. Folks with something to hide often strike out on the interstate in order to disappear. Jeremy’s seen the cars and vans with blacked-out windows rolling past just before dawn, anxious to reach shelter before the morning comes. He’s seen the pale children gathered in the shadows outside a truck stop, tearing through the garbage bins in search of something to eat. He’s got a wife and two kids at home, but on the rare times he gets to see them someone’s usually asleep and it’s often him. Such is the life he leads, and if it pays the bills, then everything’s worth it, I guess.

Jeremy didn’t start out planning on seeing white lines that never fade from his sight. He went to college, though he doesn’t often say so. Even majored in philosophy, if you can believe that one. Played trumpet in a jazz band that never took off, too. There aren’t many jobs for a philosophy major, though, and since 9/11 and the rolling economic crash, there’ve been even less. Not wanting to wind up on the unemployment line, Jeremy got his commercial driver’s license and took one job… then another… then another. When so many folks are out of work, it’s good to even have a job. And so, Jeremy keeps driving, pays his union dues, and wonders if or when all those miles will finally catch up with him.

Oh, he’s seen some crashes. Survived some, too. He’s seen fellow truckers hauled, sometimes hosed, out of their cabs, and he’s heard the stories of the bodies no one ever found. He’s picked up the hitchhikers who swear the world is ending, and shared a smoke or a drink or sometimes more with girls (and, though he’ll never admit it, a few boys, too) who know the open road even better than he does. He’s seen a man grow eight feet tall as the guy ripped four other dudes in half, and he once saw a girl get hit by a truck and then get up, shake herself out, and walk away like nothing much had happened. He doesn’t talk about much of this with the wife, and she knows he’s holding out on her. Their bedroom — when he’s home at all — has become a silent movie where the title cards got lost somewhere along the way. His kids are older each time he comes back home, and their eyes grow narrower and more sullen every time Jeremy walks in the door after a cross-country run. Still, it’s good money, and steady work. But those trucks that drive

themselves? That’s a problem. And he knows they’re out there. They’ve been out there for years already. What happens if the day comes when the work dries up and the pensions have all been spent and “Here’s your pink slip, Jer, my man. Thanks for all the good work and don’t let the door hit you on the way out?” Jeremy Bruckner kind of hopes he’ll crash and burn before that day so he doesn’t need to face what the future means to him. Dying behind the wheel scares him less than living in a world where he’s not needed anymore.