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You are here: Home --> Forum Home --> Recent posts by Bromern Sal
Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: We're a friendly group of Meatbags...


You'll have the support you need and I, too, hope this will be a righteous experience for you.

Posted on 2017-12-14 at 11:08:09.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Righteous.


And groovy.

Posted on 2017-12-14 at 11:06:31.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: AWOL


Altaira seems to have gone and dropped herself off the face of the earth for the time being. I've reached out to her for my games through PMs on two sites. Time to send an email, I think.

Posted on 2017-12-13 at 14:18:21.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: If Wyatt were in a playful mood...


He'd reply, "Are you talking to me? Do I know you?"



Posted on 2017-12-12 at 17:38:43.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Awesome!


OK... Nomad, check your PM. I sent you a lengthy message about Fixer. I think the only thing I left out was what he focuses on. Think of him as the dystopian Scotty from Star Trek as far as his function in the group is concerned.

Espatier, I also sent you a PM. We can continue working out the details of your character sheet, but in the meantime, you're free to post. I've also sent you an invitation to roll20.

I once spent a couple of weeks on tour traveling the U.S. promoting a game that the company I worked for developed. Got to visit multiple game shops in each state. I purchased every CyberPunk book I could get my hands on. Had lunch with Mike Pondsmith at a convention and talked with him about the game as well. Though I love what he did with it, I've made plenty of house rules and adjustments, so be aware. If you have questions, just ask.

Tann, that's awesome. Glad you got things fixed. Now, do yourself a favor and use Google Drive.

Now, as for the game's progress... I've got a post from Tann but need one from the rest of you!

Posted on 2017-12-12 at 17:29:48.

Topic: Cyberpunk - Flesh & Blood Recruitment
Subject: All right, then...


For the time being, recruiting is closed. Got the players I need to keep the game going.

Posted on 2017-12-12 at 17:28:43.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: I have received it!


And responded! Sorry for the delay there. I've added both you and Nomad D2 to the game. Nomad will be taking over Fixer and Espatier will be joining with one of his characters from a game he never got to play. I'll work that character in when Espatier is ready.

Posted on 2017-12-06 at 18:54:06.

Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: I completely understand...


Just waiting on a post from Altaira and we can continue.

Posted on 2017-12-06 at 18:47:59.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Eol...


Did ya forget Wyatt? Or are you assuming all of this takes place before Wyatt approaches the bar? Either way, I'm good.

Posted on 2017-12-06 at 18:44:38.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: I done added my own bit...


Just a little bit.

Posted on 2017-11-29 at 16:34:48.

Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: Day 1, Whitefall - Necessity, "The Slaughterhouse", 8:20 PM PT


Interesting, Wyatt ponders while returning his eyes to the terrible hand he holds. Sam's comin' across as the business end o' the crew... The thought amuses Captain Sung more than he would ever publicly admit. Shifting his steely gaze from the cards to the pot, the half-Asian gives his head a slow shake and places the twos face down on the table.

"Fold." Glancing over his shoulder he adds, "Gonna go see what drink 's available. If'n y'all will excuse me the luxury."

(OOC: Assuming no objections.)

Rising from the table, Wyatt adjusts the resting position of his hat to a more approachable backward slant and strolls over to the bar. Placing himself at Sam's back and thus putting the pilot between himself and Saul Potter, Sung casually pretends not to have overheard any part of their conversation.

"Lager," Wyatt drawls while secretly determining not to succumb to the growing desires for the crisp brew. The need for the drink is an act to put him close enough to the conversation going on between Sam and Saul in case the latter wishes to involve him. No matter how good she looks, Sung assures his inner voices, I won't be drinkin' her.

Posted on 2017-11-29 at 16:34:01.

Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Hmmm... choices...


---
-O-
-OX

Posted on 2017-11-29 at 15:22:03.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Amen!


And you can install the Google Drive app on your computer and work offline if you want. It will automatically sync documents once you go back online.

With Google Drive I can work on my laptop or my phone, or borrow a friend's computer if I left mine and have time to write something. I've found very little reason to use Word anymore. Although, I did have to upgrade my Drive Storage as it also counts your pictures and video storage on Google Photos or Picaso against you. But even that was $1.99 per month for a huge increase.

Oh! And then I opened a new Google account for bromern.sal and gained another Drive from which I manage all of my gaming. In reality, I have a work account, a personal account, and a gaming account now. And, Google allows me to switch between them rather seamlessly.

Love the service! Enough of my plugging their services... game on!

Posted on 2017-11-29 at 14:13:25.

Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: Roger that!


I've answered all PMs I have and am looking forward to the posts.

Posted on 2017-11-29 at 14:08:35.

Topic: Bring Me That Horizon Q&A
Subject: All right!


I've posted, so to SAIL!

Posted on 2017-11-28 at 17:22:21.

Topic: Bring Me That Horizon
Subject: Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), roughly 5:36 P.M.; Beach


Turning in his grip, she practically melts into him, a delicate hand against his chest seeking the skin beneath the cloth while her face finally turns up towards his. Eyes half-hooded in the act of proffered pleasure, the whore breathes heavily through slightly parted lips that offer a world of pleasures.

Goncalvo holds the young woman in his arms and his heart races as he thinks of the games they could play. She is likely a skilled player. Lifting her back to her feet he takes a moment to glance down the alley. Speaking loudly enough to ensure he is overheard, but not so loud as to be obviously trying to do so, he replies. "Let us be on our way then, lass. The Rampart Lion is a bit of a trip but certainly one of the finest establishments in the city. There we shall meet my wife and begin our games."

Inn names in settlements such as these range from fancy to crass and the sailmaster knows he’s taking a risk in providing a name having just arrived in port and only being a patron of one such establishment thus far. His hope is that there’s a possibility the street girl doesn’t know all of the inns in the city and accepts his answer as one of those she’s unfamiliar with.

Practically purring, she presses her young body tighter against his and uses the tip of her finger to caress the stubble beginning to form under his chin sending shivers down his spine and igniting primal urges. “Do you mean the Resting Lions, milord?”

Slipping her thigh between his legs, she brings her leg up gently until it rests uncomfortably close to regions that have seen naught but soap in weeks. “That is a bit o’ a walk, but if’n you’ll protect me from those bad people along the way I’ll be happy t’ meet the miss.”

Deftly slipping from his arms, she manages to glide her left hand down his right arm and settle her dainty fingers into his calloused hand. Pulling him gently along, the lass glances over her shoulder and provides him with a subtle pout. “I wish it were closer…”

Their trajectory is towards a street two blocks from the alley where her original attention lay putting the beach between them and the street a distance of approximately forty yards. Heated by the relentless sun, Goncalvo is initially unsure of his eyes upon catching three ruffians do a poor job of paying them no mind and break free from the alleyway to tromp across the hot sands on a path that will most assuredly put them on the street before the Dog’s sailmaster and the young prostitute.

(OOC: Time is roughly 5:40 PM)

------------------------------------------------------------------

Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), roughly 11:36 A.M.; The Rub of Del Monte

Thunk, splosh, the mug is set before him almost too late as the wench spins about and quickly makes her way back inside. Perhaps luck is smiling on the foul-tempered man, or maybe his God-given instincts for self-preservation are at play, either way, as she leaves his table Fin’s narrow eyes are drawn to a table near the other end of the balcony.

Five men occupy the seats and ten eyes appear to be fixed upon him right up to the moment when his two meets theirs. Quite suddenly, the five men find their conversation, drinks, and the settlement’s skyline more interesting than the quartermaster. One, a wide-faced individual with ruddy features and a shaggy mane of dishwater blonde hair, braves another glance Fin’s way and though it is furtive, the quartermaster is fairly certain that there’s recognition behind that gaze.

Again, Fin Crowe searches his memory for the identity of the man and once again, he cannot place him. To the best of his recollection, Splotchy-Face is an unknown.

Though the gazes from the table at the other end of the balcony are surreptitiously diverted when his own eyes meet theirs, Fin’s stare isn’t as quick to veer away. A tight-lipped smirk plays on his features as he reaches for his beer, disappearing only for an instant when he lifts the mug to his mouth and pours a healthy swallow down his throat. And then, over the rim of the mug, Crowe’s defiant glare frames the five men, daring them to look his way once more.

“Th’ bloody hell ya lookin’ at, ya cannon-corkin’ mast mugger?” Crowe spits out at Splotch’s disregard for his privacy.

Splotch ducks his eyes faster than bait on a taken hook and overtly pretends to take interest in the stains on his table’s surface.

Fin unceremoniously plunks the mug back onto the table, its place at his lips taken, again, by the still smoldering stub of his cigarillo. His storm-colored eyes remain locked on Splotchy-Face and his crew for a moment longer, the fingertips of his right hand playing lightly on the butt of the pistol tucked in his sash as he subtly shifts his weight in the seat. Then, not deeming it wise to keep his gaze in one place overlong, Fin exhales a cloud of smoke into the air and dismisses the table of five as his eyes and ears return to their surveillance.

Clanking of iron cups and clay plates mingle with the murmur of the street orchestra and the occasional cry of a raven, but steely eyes find no sign of Kidane by the time the quartermaster’s meal of pork, cheese, and bread is brought. The waif of a girl accepts the hard man’s money and vanishes back through the doors without a word. Flies immediately set upon the savory meat requiring Fin’s attention to shoo them away. Just as he is about to start cutting at the stringy, pinkish brown meat, Crowe notices the whole of Splotchy-Face’s table rise and with deliberate intent not to look his way, the group of them make their way from the balcony. Bursting laughter is only partially subdued as the doors close; laughter Fin Crowe is fairly certain did not originate with that crew. Left at their table are plates with unfinished food attracting more flies and a black feathered bird with a fierce black beak. The raven hops from the balcony rail to the table and shifts closer to the plates while keeping a close eye on the nearest humans. Hunger pains remind Fin that he hasn’t eaten in a few hours and food is before him enticing his senses.

(OOC: Assuming Fin eats…)

Bread makes for a decent sop drawing in the last of the pork juices on the plate and carrying them to the sailor’s mouth. Chewing slowly, Fin catches the doors to the balcony opening in a blink of an eye announcing the arrival of a very large African marked by scarification, brands, and tattoos. His head is shaved bald and acts as a canvas for a blend of each of these marks. His eyes are black pearls set in deep seas, narrow, and filled with cruelty. The muscles in his neck and shoulders are well pronounced and just by gauging quickly, Fin estimates that the man is nearly twice as broad as he is and a head taller. There’s no need to scour his memories for this one. This is Kidane in all of his brutal glory.

Bare chested with a bandolier being the only accouterment to break up the sleekness of his sweaty black skin, Kidane wears a pair of dark brown wool pants tucked into knee-high Oriental boots of sand-colored cloth. A large dirk rests on his right hip while a heavy cutlass hangs from his left. There are two flintlock pistols sheathed in the bandolier at his chest and another knife in his right boot. Aside from the huge ivory gauges in his ears, and two oversized gold rings, he wears no other decoration.

Kidane is not alone. Pausing only to expertly assess the situation on the balcony, LeRoux’s right hand man immediately strides towards Fin’s table while his five fellows hang back a little.

(OOC: Time is roughly 12:01 PM.)

----------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), Docks, 1:40 P.M.

“Pray tell,” the willow-man sneers condescendingly at Maggie once he has her attention, “what do you pretend to be about?”

Maggie turns and takes in the look of the two gentlemen eyeing her where she sits atop the pile of crates. She notes the sneer of contempt from the speaker and chooses to pay it no mind; to anger him by replying in kind might draw too much attention. She rises to her feet and makes her way down the crates, hoping down to stand in front of the speaker while the soldier takes in her short swords and pistol with what appears to be amusement on his dull, sunburnt face.

“Good day, gentlemen,” she says with a smile as she stands before them, “I take it this be your goods in these here crates?”

Condescension turns to an outright sneer, but the man makes no further motion to confirm or deny her assessment.

“Sorry to be standing up there, but I was looking for some of my crew who are late in returning to the ship. No good scallywags get ashore, get drunk or go whoring and forget their duties. Those crates just made a good place to get a look about it all. I don’t mean to offend.”

She smiles pleasantly hoping to disarm any hostility they might have towards her actions; crossing her arms simply (this placing her hands closer to her blades, if needed) and looking at the men with a raised eyebrow.

“My name is Maggie Cole,” she states, still smiling politely, “First Mate on the Sun Dog. Who might you gentlemen be?”

She can be charming when she needs to be. She hates being pleasant, but sometimes it is necessary, as Anna had told her upon many an occasion. She knows she is pretty, and men find her attractive and desirable, and at times like this, it isn’t beneath her to use her feminine charisma when she thinks it might help.

“First mate?” the gentleman scoffs. “What ship would have a woman on board, let alone as an officer?”

Chuckling, the guard seems to agree. His pug face is goofy-looking especially with the red of his burn. His expression changing from scorn to mock concern, the lean man continues, “You must’ve been out in the sun for far too long, miss. Don’t you know that it is dangerous here along the docks? Surely you are being missed back at the estate, especially having made off with your master’s property.

“Tell us which property to which you are indentured and we’ll assist you in your return,” Narrow face falls into a very dramatic seriousness. “And if you do so without causing us concern, I shall put in a good word for you with your master. The lashings are bound to be far less than otherwise.”

“Be a good lass,” the soldier shoulders his rifle and steps forward with his left hand outstretched. “An’ give me over those blades and pistol, huh?”


(OOC: Time is approximately 1:44 PM.)

----------------------------------------------------
Tuesday, June 3rd, 1670 a.d., Tortuga Bay Settlement (Ile de la Tortue), Docks, 1:25 P.M.

Slapping the shoulder of Toothless in good natured fun, Tattoo quickly guzzles the remainder of his drink and slams the dented tin mug to the countertop with an exuberant belch. “Wench! Prepare yerself, for the ocean’s ‘bout to get a little rough.” Two of the whores rush to meet his challenge and rather than turn one of them away, the young sailor wraps his arms about both waists and laughingly drags them towards the back hall.

“What ship did ya say yer from?” the dark, curly-haired fellow leans forward and eyes Cracker with a dull gaze waiting on his reply.

Cracker hates the directness of the question as there is little wiggle room left in which to maneuver. He takes a bit of time responding by taking a long pull (but small actual drink) of his brew. Wiping his mouth as he puts the mug down, he responds with a bit of a glaze in his eyes.

“Didn’t name one. Been on lots. The Blue Kite, the Dog, the Dawn, and recently the Dolphin. But whatever ship I’m on tomorrow—sounds like things are good here? Some ports—nothing.” He grins, “I like the sound of “fillin’ m’ purse! If that’s true, then perhaps I could do with a bit more purse emptyin’!” He turns to the barman and calls for another.

Middle-aged and thick through the forearms and shoulders, the bartender wears a Franz Josef of thick black hair. He shows no further interest in what’s going on between the sailors than to be available when they need a refill and quietly fulfills Cracker’s order, slapping another full mug in front of him that spills a bit of froth on the countertop.

William raises it with a nod to his companions, “What makes it so darn good for purses around here?”

“Hard work, lad,” Curly grumbles, but by this time, Toothless is back in the here and now.

“You say that yer up fer a new ship?” The long-faced fellow practically barks, obviously starting to feel the effects of the liquor he’s imbibing. Without waiting for Cracker’s response, he dives right in, dropping unceremoniously to his right elbow so that he can lean against the counter and better face the boatswain. “What’re yer qualifications? Could be tha’ the Snap Minnow could use ya!”

“Shut it, Fulvio,” growls the curly-haired sailor. “‘Tis no’ yer place t’ recruit new blood.”

“Lighten yer load, Romano,” Toothless rolls his head back to emphasize the rolling of his eyes. “Brothers o’ the sea!” he bellows and hoists his drink into the air, spilling golden liquid down is arm in the process.

“To the Sea!” others about the room holar back. Satisfied with the reply, Fulvio throws back his mug and guzzles.

“‘Tis no’ his place,” Roman leans forward to eye Cracker from around his shipmate’s shoulder. “You want t’ pick up work on the Minnow, you’ll need t’ talk with Gory Tremane. Best hurry, though.” Eyes widening in realization, the curly-haired drinker falls immediately quiet and settles his gaze guiltily into his drink.

“Barkeep!” Fulvio hiccups. “Another!”

(OOC: Time is approximately 1:35 PM.)


Posted on 2017-11-28 at 17:21:44.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: Looking forward to it!


This is why I now do all of my writing in Google Drive.

Posted on 2017-11-28 at 16:09:35.

Topic: Cyberpunk - Flesh & Blood Recruitment
Subject: Positions Open...


I have two characters that could use players right now.

Bloodbank - medic

Fixer - techie

I've been through a number of players now. I'd appreciate players who can commit. Thanks! I look forward to hearing from you.

Need some decent writing skills and the ability to post once per week. If you aren't familiar with the setting, think Ghost in the Shell, Bladerunner, Cyborg, etc. and you've got it.

Posted on 2017-11-28 at 16:07:41.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Meh?


That's not acceptable.

All right, the game has been updated with our remaining players being sent a PM to help with your next post. The path Fixer is suggesting will bring you in at the 2300 Street bus stop once you go full route. That trip will cover eight stops, so your one-way ticket will cost 8 NCD's.

Any questions, feel free to ask. I may open recruiting again, or I may decide to keep the group intimately small. We'll see. I appreciate each of you who stick with us through the game. I know that these PBP games aren't exactly fast-paced and exciting.

Posted on 2017-11-28 at 16:04:22.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A Night City Adventure
Subject: Hightowerâs BBQ | Night City Integrate | Midcity | UrbanZone - March 8th, Day 2 (Saturday),


Weather Conditions: High City (Thunderstorms, 15mph winds from the NE.) | Midcity (Rain, 10mph winds from the NE.) | Undercity (Fog and Rain, no winds.)
Air Quality Index: High City = 25 | Midcity = 42 | Undercity = 75 (masks required)

“With Fixer here, we might not need to get Blossom inside the Mallplex,” Vegas smiles softly at the Asian woman. “Can’t see us needing to break through any security intense enough to require someone of this doll’s expertise.

“So, I say we do some eyes-on recon while this angel works her heavenly magic,” he continues. “Casino, Echo, and I could go in with Ghlahn taking up a point of advantage to cover a hasty retreat if we need to dance our way out. Fixer can go along with us and Bloodbank, of course. No reason to go in hot, but if Fixer really can resolve our comms issue on the way then we’ll be better set to act on any data Blossom mines.”

"Of course,” Ghlahn remarks. “I'd love to set up and watch but I probably fit in better than most of you in that area. I can hold my own close-in if need be and Bloodbank will be there if things get hairy. Not looking to get involved, just a recon."

“There’s an app that allows direct communication with any others who sign onto that group. Just download the CircleMic app to your agents and I’ll set up the group. Give me your agent IDs and I’ll shoot you an invite,” Blossom rolls the diminishing sucker around in her mouth and holds up her own agent to show a screen with a baby blue background marred by white spots displaying a group she’s already set up. “Problem with this app is that it relies on the network, and it isn’t exactly the most secure method of chewing the fat. It’ll do in the short and short though.”

“Yeah sounds good, get me to a electronics store and I’ll see what I can do about comms.” Getting his gear ready, Fixer sets about downloading the CircleMic app to his agent and waits for the others to head out.

Echo nods in agreement with the Netrunner, grateful she's clever and so very good at what she does, and that they have her on the team. Following the wardriver’s advice, the nomad chica navigates through her Agent to send the AI in search of the app.

“Vegas and I are well versed in code talk,” Casino offers, “so I’m sure he can give you all a quick walkthrough and set something up. So when are we looking at heading out?“

Completing the download, Echo steps forward and shows Blossom her new CircleMic ID, then steps back to her previous spot. Fixer offers his up verbally followed by Bloodbank showing his Agent to the laid back coder. Vegas takes the opportunity to lean down and whisper in Blossom’s ear. Whatever he whispers causes her to briefly smile and lift her shoulders a bit as though his breath tickles her ear.

"I would be okay to go now," Echo says with more confidence than she feels, "But I know some of us are hurtin' in the sleep department and could use a few hours of shuteye." She then turns to Fixer. "Would it make any difference to go at night time," she asks, "or are all the critters just as active during downtime?"

“Probably moreso,” Fixer shrugs. Neighborhood activity doesn’t seem to bother him too much. “I like the idea of sleep ‘s’much as the next fella, but I don’t know how much time this kid’s got so I’m voting we pull up our big boy pants and push through.”

“Trust me,” Bloodbank adds, “I’d like to support the idea, Echo, but I’m going to have to vote we forego anymore downtime as well.”

“It would seem to me that now is as good a time as any to continue this little jaunt,” Vegas slips his hands into the pockets of his designer slacks and tilts his head to the side while raising his eyebrows. The crooner starts singing softly...

“Fly me to the moon
“Let me play among the stars
“Let me see what spring is like
“On a, Jupiter and Mars…”

With a time set to head out and the crew gathering their gear together, Casino moves to catch Blossom before she gets too engrossed in getting the needed info from the Net. “Blossom, can I talk to you privately a moment?”

“Kinda busy…” the Asian glances up from behind her heart-shaped, girlish sunglasses and sighs. “Fine, but the delay’s on you, Choomba.”

Letting her pass him as they head out the door, Casino moves the two of them back to the same area he had previously used to talk with Vegas. Pulling out the two ‘acquired’ Agents, he hands both over to her. Echo watches Casino approach the little Asian. When they leave the room to presumably speak in private, Echo couldn't blame him. Blossom is a pretty little thing, but if he's interested, he's got some serious competition from a certain crooner.

“Hoping you could be me a favor. I don’t have an agent of my own but I grabbed these two off a pair of dead guys from the fight at the ER. The expensive one I took off a dead Asian bodyguard, the other from the leader of the people who attacked the ER. They were after the old man the bodyguard died trying to protect.”

Blossom raises her well-manicured eyebrows and stares at the devices like they’re about to explode.

“Yeah he’s alive,” Casino informs her, “the leader of the attackers wanted me to kill him. When I refused all hell broke loose and I had no choice but to fight it out. But I was lucky and saved the old guy and got out before I was caught by the cops. I was hoping you could crack their security codes and tell me who the old guy was and who the attacker’s leader was, and why they wanted the old man dead. I don’t want us caught by surprise because of what happened at the ER and if anyones going to come looking for me—other then the police of course—before this run is over. Once all that’s done I’m hoping you could scrub both clean and set one up for my future use. I know it’s a lot to ask with everything else going on, but I have no one else to turn too.”

Standing looking at the Netrunner, he hopes she will help, but Blossom isn’t one to do anything for charity and thinks about the request for a few seconds while clicking her teeth on the small, round ball of candy still attached to the white paper stick protruding from her lips.

“Sure,” she nods slowly and allows her eyes to drift up and peer over the rims of her pink sunglasses at the gruff-looking man. “I can attempt it, but I’m not doing it for a song and a dance, go-boy. Seeing how we’re running together right now, I’ll discount the price tag to a serious blue light special. One hundred NCD’s apiece to break ‘em and wipe ‘em. I’ll give ya whatever data I crack as a bonus. ‘Course, this’ll come secondary to the run. We kosher?”

(OOC: Casino’s answer…)

“You save some ancient from being whacked, shoot up an ER, kill some sardines bent on icing the ancient, and steal a couple of agents?” Walking casually past the bruiser, the small Asian takes the sucker from her mouth and waves it at Casino. “And you’re wondering if anyone is gunnin’ for you?”

Blossom’s laugh is touched, perhaps, by a bit of sympathy as she makes her way back into the office. Before Casino can return to the team his attention is caught by Granger. The tall Swede has apparently been waiting for his friend’s conversation to end before motioning the solo to join him near the lobby door.

“How long are your friends going to be interfering with my business, Keith?” he asks quietly so as not to draw attention from his staff.

(OOC: Casino’s answer… assuming it contains something about Blossom sticking around.)

Frowning, Hightower’s proprietor clenches his jaw and considers his options while he stares at the open door to his small office space and the crowd gearing up inside. Finally, turning back to the injured man he nods, “It is good. She can stay until the dinner rush. Then I must insist that my business is unobstructed.

“I do what I can for you, Keith,” Granger sighs. “But it is not always easy.”

“Hey!” Vegas calls out as he saunters into the kitchen. “You ready, or do you need some more time to hug and kiss out your good-byes?” The smile on the Frank Sinatra look-alike’s rugged face softens the inferred insult. “We’re ready to dance.” True to his word, the others follow the well-dressed solo into the kitchen.

“Five-thirty, Keith,” Granger mumbles in a very low voice. “Then, your friend must leave.”

(OOC: Time is 2:25 PM)

Wind whips coats about and sends stinging, ice cold rain into the party’s exposed skin. With the air quality warning in effect, combat masks and air filters are affixed the moment the edgerunners exit Hightower’s and make their way down the stairs to the street level.

Pushing through the door, Vegas leads, confident and full of his usual attitude. Carried upon the winds and accenting the biting rain are angry voices just off to the right. Vegas glances that way but then tugs his long coat about him and turns to the left, striding towards the nearest bus stop.

Casino is next through the door and his attention is also drawn by the noise. Crowds are not uncommon, especially in the business sectors of the City, but this one is not moving. This crowd is gathered and seem to centralize their attention on whatever or whomever is in the center. Fists shoot into the air and foul language is draped across the mob like Holiday ornaments on a tree, but for the life of him, the rugged solo cannot see what has their attention.

“If we take the Five, we’ll go straight past a iQuality Outlet,” Fixer almost runs into the solo’s back as he follows the pair of gunmen through the door with his eyes glued to his agent. Stepping to Casino’s left, he narrowly avoids the collision and looks up a bit irritatedly to find out what all the ruckus is about. Peering through the slivers between his lashes and the dark lenses of his mirrorshades, the techie surveys the crowd and shakes his head in disgust. “Seen this sh*t before,” he mutters. “Nothing good comes of it.”

“What’s going on?” Bloodbank asks innocently while staring at the frothing gathering.

(OOC : Time is 2:29 PM)


Posted on 2017-11-28 at 14:02:25.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Sounds great!


He's been in touch!

I, too, hope everyone had a fanturkulous Thanksgiving! I'll be posting soon so keep your eye out.

Posted on 2017-11-27 at 17:32:10.

Topic: Flesh & Blood - A CyberPunk Game
Subject: Thanks for the posts...


I'll post again next week. Have a happy Thanksgiving!

Posted on 2017-11-21 at 18:51:18.

Topic: Genesis Q&A
Subject: Let's do that.


---
-O-
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Posted on 2017-11-21 at 18:49:42.

Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: I will be tied up...


Until next week, most likely.

Posted on 2017-11-21 at 18:48:04.

Topic: Holiday Break
Subject: Be Safe!


I, too, am taking a break for Thanksgiving. I'll look at posting again next week.

Posted on 2017-11-21 at 18:40:22.

 


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