Post by shasta on Nov 16, 2006 1:39:28 GMT -5
8:56pm, Tuesday
The Landshark coasts to a halt at the corner of the park, engine idling quietly. The park is darker than it was last time; a few more of the harsh sodium lights that give illumination showing recent powder burns and rings of shattered glass. The denizens of Puyallup have never been too keen on conducting their business without the cover of darkness.
The council work crews are loath to enter Puyallup, despite recently re-elected Mayor Krass's promise to clean up the seedier parts of Seattle. Apparently it was one of those tacked-on campaign promises designed to capture the last few available middle-class votes. Even if the Mayor had planned on keeping this promise, the work crews demand a full tactical escort from the Star to repair lights in known gang territory.
The familiar scream of overtaxed bike throttles rings out in an otherwise quiet night; it would seem that apart from the crew Mateus hired, the Metalheads are laying low tonight. Maybe the rest were hired for another job.
You are soon greeted by the somewhat familiar, if not entirely reassuring, silhouettes of the three ganger's you encountered on this corner two nights ago. The norm is easily distinguished by his lack of size compared to the two orks, and the glint of reflected lights of his metal fingernails. He and the smaller of the two orks once again flank the massive ork who seems to be their lieutenant. They cruise to a stop, killing the bikes engines and once again restoring some measure of peace to the park.
The two orks remain seated. The norm dismounts and sidles over to the Landshark. His grin is still fixed in place. He leans down at the front window, staring at a point that seems fixed just above Skidds' left ear. His eyes seem slightly glazed.
"Hoi there, chummers. You got some cred for us?". He speaks so quickly that he's hard to understand, and the grin barely seems to flicker to give his mouth time to form the words.
GM, OOC: Sorry it took me longer than expected to post, folks. My flatmate's copy of SR3 was stolen during a recent break-in at our house, and I suddenly realized I'd best get a hold of the copy of the rules before taking you guys into the run on the truck.
Oh, yeah, and perception tests would be appropriate right about now. For those of you not overly familiar with the rules, roll Intelligence, as an open ended test.
The Landshark coasts to a halt at the corner of the park, engine idling quietly. The park is darker than it was last time; a few more of the harsh sodium lights that give illumination showing recent powder burns and rings of shattered glass. The denizens of Puyallup have never been too keen on conducting their business without the cover of darkness.
The council work crews are loath to enter Puyallup, despite recently re-elected Mayor Krass's promise to clean up the seedier parts of Seattle. Apparently it was one of those tacked-on campaign promises designed to capture the last few available middle-class votes. Even if the Mayor had planned on keeping this promise, the work crews demand a full tactical escort from the Star to repair lights in known gang territory.
The familiar scream of overtaxed bike throttles rings out in an otherwise quiet night; it would seem that apart from the crew Mateus hired, the Metalheads are laying low tonight. Maybe the rest were hired for another job.
You are soon greeted by the somewhat familiar, if not entirely reassuring, silhouettes of the three ganger's you encountered on this corner two nights ago. The norm is easily distinguished by his lack of size compared to the two orks, and the glint of reflected lights of his metal fingernails. He and the smaller of the two orks once again flank the massive ork who seems to be their lieutenant. They cruise to a stop, killing the bikes engines and once again restoring some measure of peace to the park.
The two orks remain seated. The norm dismounts and sidles over to the Landshark. His grin is still fixed in place. He leans down at the front window, staring at a point that seems fixed just above Skidds' left ear. His eyes seem slightly glazed.
"Hoi there, chummers. You got some cred for us?". He speaks so quickly that he's hard to understand, and the grin barely seems to flicker to give his mouth time to form the words.
GM, OOC: Sorry it took me longer than expected to post, folks. My flatmate's copy of SR3 was stolen during a recent break-in at our house, and I suddenly realized I'd best get a hold of the copy of the rules before taking you guys into the run on the truck.
Oh, yeah, and perception tests would be appropriate right about now. For those of you not overly familiar with the rules, roll Intelligence, as an open ended test.