Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

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Daniel
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Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Daniel »


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Rifts Speed Tribes!

Inchoations & the Great Brouhaha
  • The start of a noisy confused disturbance in 68 P.A. (2354 A.D.)
  • 42 years prior to the creation of the Tomorrow Legion
  • Somewhere on old Highway 87 (Amarillo to Lubbock TX)

The cracked asphalt roadway wavered in the heat of the Texas badlands. On your (Hovercycle or Motorcycle) you cruise across the wastelands with purpose.

------


Texas was simpler before the Coalition States decided to claim the region in late 68 P.A. (has not happened yet in our game). A post, post apocalyptic wasteland where gangs raged and traded goods and fought off each other and more often monsters that emerged from Rifts in space and time.

The oldest Speed Tribes of the badlands of Lone Star, or Old Texas, were mostly racing up and down the paved remains of Highway 87 (north - south) and Highway 20 (east - west). The old American state was referred to as either Lone Star or more often, the Texas Freelands.

No CS from the mid west were in the area, Texas was a sort of unofficial no mans land. Gangs, Comanche, and ancient ruins often occupied by demons and monsters, it was simple enough: live or die, kill or be killed, pray for freedom and find a tribe for safety. Ride Fast. Fight Hard. Stay Alive.

The entire region would soon be transformed by a epic discovery. That story is still to be told... I digress.

------


A few moths ago an up and coming mercenary leader, Captain Sabre Lasar, had the foresight to convince several mercs/tribes of wanderers to join forces and beat down some supernatural monstrosities he called the
The Splugorth are an evil Lovecraftian-like inter-dimensional race of conquerors in the Palladium Rifts Megaverse roleplaying universe. Beings whom are malevolent and sadistic, enslavers and manipulators.
. You found yourself hitching up with the charismatic Captain Lasar and another esoteric mercenary named Hudson Blackwell. Lieutenant Blackwell was one of three lieutenants who worked for Lasar in the retaliation on the invading and slaving Splugorth. For the month you were working with the Lasar Mercs, you were assigned to Blackwell's platoon. During the month with Blackwell defending Texas from slavers you learned the Lieutenant was in fact a rare Black Dragon, originating from a far off dimension. Hudson, as he insisted you call him, shook your hand and thanked you after the mercenaries defeated the slavers and separated into smaller tribes of mercs. One of the nice finds, loot, you picked up while working with Lasar and Hudson was the vehicle/mount you now have.

Raging across the badlands you have run a few small jobs on your own. Now, roughly six months after the gathering Lasar put together, you have been contacted by Hudson Blackwell. While racing across the badlands over cracked and ruff asphalt a "magic" pigeon swirled across your view and started circling you with unreal speed as you rode. Stopping and eyeing the bird warily it suddenly spoke in perfect American.

"Greeting my old friend! It is I, Hudson! I could use a mercenary of your caliber right about now, someone I know I can trust. I got a job. It pays well. If you can, meet me at the Snake Pit in Crossroads. I'll introduce you to our client, Erin. Semper Celeritas"

You have been to the city of Crossroads before and know it is less than a days ride from where you are.

------


Crossroads is a town with a regular population of just under 8000 and quite often up to another 2000 transient visitors at any given time. It is located near where pre-rifts Kernville used to be, and, for the Pecos Empire, is a relatively modern and safe community. The town gets its name for being in a geographical, center more or less, of the Pecos Empire.

Since it is relatively large, as empire towns go, and located centrally, it is a major trade center in the budding Empire.

Located in the Pecos Empire, the Lone Star State, the people of Texas have had very little contact with the East Coast including entities such as the Coalition States (CS), who most have heard of and most have never actually been in contact with. And absolutely no contact with the west which is cut off by the great barrier mountains with its dimensional anomalies.

Crossroads is a thriving community of artists and craftsmen. In addition to stage performances, primarily comedies and song and dance, and musical events, there is a full-time movie theater that offers a good selection of pre, and post rifts films. There are two dozen pawn shops, large and small, plus a handful of Shoppes that specialize in artifacts both pre, and post rift, and even alien artifacts. In addition to pottery, various knickknacks, customers can purchase and or commission objects of art such as paintings and sculptures or specialty items. Custom made saddles, saddlebags, boots with ornate unique designs, gang insignia etc. are in high demand among the Pecos bandits in the region. Over a dozen tattoo parlors also thrive in town.

A large Carnival has set up shop in the town of crossroads. There are gambling halls and sporting arenas that can seat up to 8000 people. Besides gambling, these halls provide a variety of entertainment in which the same manner as a saloon halls of the old wild west ones did.

There are even some red light districts with brothels, cockfighting and dogfighting and drug dens, houses of illusion, psychic experiences and a host of unique pastimes for a reasonable price. The local law-enforcement is mostly made up of a militia or basically a large gang well outfitted with weapons and armor. They are referred to as the City Guard.

Hover vehicle racing is a common occurrence and there are Juicer games. About the only thing that Crossroads draws a line at is actual blood sports, they are forbidden within city limits. All in all this could be considered a Las Vegas of the Pecos Empire.

The town is run by a board of commissioners. The Guard, or militia is made up of citizens and full-time freelance military forces. One perk of signing up with the militia is after two years you are given citizenship and a license to work in the city and have your own shop. It is illegal for unlicensed persons to set up businesses within the city, this does not in anyway affect independent mercenaries working in the area.

Roughly 30% of the population is human, another 8% are augmented humans such as cyborgs, juicers and crazies. The majority of Crossroads is made up of roughly 62% dimensional beings (D-Bee's). The commissioners for the city of Crossroads are currently starting a new project of building a wall around the city, although this may take several decades to complete.

One of the more famous bars within Crossroads is known as: the Snake Pit.


------


Now you find yourself sitting at a table located in the seedy bar, the Snake Pit, waiting. A few drinks later the double doors to the bar swing open and you recognize your old Lieutenant.

Image


Literally the piano players stops playing, as everyone eyes the newcomer, then the music starts back up and murmurs and conversations carry on. Dressed in black leather pants, biker jacket and cap, Hudson grins and you recognize the dragons large golden dragon ring on his right hand. The evening darkens outside, silhouetted behind Hudson as he walks deeper into the bar after eyeing you. With night, the hot day starts to cool off. As the black dragon settles haphazardly into the seat across from you he smiles and before he can say anything a D-Bee bar maid, Harriette, an easy to look at mole-like humanoid female bustles up to the table and asks Hudson what his pleasure is.

"A refill for my mate and I'll have what he is having. Lace mine if you please."

Returning his attention to you, Hudson continues:

"It has been a second hasn't it mate. By the Dragon Kings of Tolkeen, so many stories to tell and we were only together a ... what five weeks or less!"


------


PLAYER INSTRUCTIONS

To start out, you can recant (like an Interlude) a story of the time you spent being a mercenary working with Hudson and Captain Lasar fighting Splugorth and defending Texas from slavers! Feel free to embellish and make it a truly worthy of being a bar story tale.

After your post I will carry on with more narrative. Thanks and enjoy.
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Re: Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Ezy_Entry »

It's been a long time since Ezy Entry has physically been able to taste a drink, or swill it around in his mouth and feel it burning. Instead, the only burn is in his nightmares as he relives the splugorth tentacle attack that took the lower half of his face. Now, with a crude cybernetic replacement (more a breather then a mouth: Ezy wasn't made of money and this wasn't an era of health plans), Ezy could still drink. He could still get drunk. But he couldn't taste it. Or swill it in his mouth. And he had to drink it with a straw. Ezy actually took a perverse satisfaction in that.

Tonight he was drinking Blackbottle brandy. A classic. And dirt cheap. No point splurging on the good stuff now. In the end, it all had the same effect.

Ezy stares at Hudson Blackwell – and envies his humanity. Or pseudo-humanity. Or faux-humanity. Or draconic-humanity. The bastard could still smile and laugh regardless of what form he took. Ezy's crude cybernetic prosthesis couldn't smile, or laugh, it could only crackle. A pale, humiliating, imitation of a laugh.

Hudson looks Ezy right in the eyes, sees past the crude cybernetic prosthesis, gaze shooting under Ezy's reinforced baseball cap that forms part of his riding armour, “It has been a second hasn't it mate. By the Dragon Kings of Tolkeen, so many stories to tell and we were together a … what five weeks or less!”

Ezy pulls his glass up to where his mouth should be. Where he should be able to take a swig of his classic, dirt cheap brandy and swill it around in his mouth. Instead, a proboscis shoots out: a sophisticated system of six thin, needlelike stylets: and he slurps the liquid into his crude cybernetic prosthesis, it's microprocessors filter out any immediately noxiously terminal poisons or gases and send the alcohol down a nano-enforced tube that ends up in Ezy's stomach. He can't even feel the soothing warmth in his chest.

“I know, I know, the kid don't play, “ Hudson spreads his arms out in mock innocence. “But, if there was a problem, you would solve it.”

“The correct lyric is “Yo, I'll solve it” and then “Check out the hook while my DJ revolves it.” Ezy's voice is toneless, robotic in it's conformity. Like drinking, Ezy doesn't talk very well these days either. There was a time, before his injury, when he was still a trooper, that he used to perform that song for his fellow squaddies. Before the splugorth tore them apart.

“See mate, it's that attention to detail that gets you jobs,” Hudson holds up a single finger as he talks, and then starts to wag it. “And then keeps you alive. And what keeps you alive, squire, keeps the rest of us alive.”

The barmaid, a D-bee called Harriette, an easy on the eye mole-like humanoid, plonks their next drinks on the bar counter in front of them, “I laced his too, honey. He's the type that can handle it.”

“Oh, that I know, my dove. Don't I Ezy. There's not much you can't handle,” Hudson says, still not taking his eyes from Ezy's even as he reaches for his drink. “Don't ask what they lace it with, kid. Don't ask.”

Ezy watches Hudson like a hawk as he drinks. Instead of sipping it gingerly, Hudson tilts his neck back and gulps the whole glass down. Ezy can't help but think of a pelican swallowing a fish. He watches him for signs that the drink is burning him in that satisfying way that strong spirits do to people who can feel the damn alcohol. Hudson doesn't wheeze, doesn't cough, to his credit he could have been gulping down water. Hudson's always been like that. Molding to his company.

“Something grabs a hold of me tightly, “ Hudson waves his glass towards Hariette, who has moved to a customer at the other end of the bar. “Flow like a harpoon daily and nightly. Will it ever stop? Yo, I don't know. A great lyricist this Robert Van Winkle of yours. You know, I had never heard of him, or his poetry, until that night we turned back the splugorth for good.”

Ezy Entry leans back in his chair, recalling the nightmare of the final night of the splugorth. He wishes, like never before, that he could truly lose himself in the sensations of alcohol and living in the moment.

---

Ezy Entry followed the floating sphere through a maze of horizontal and vertical ventilation shafts, the pads of his wall walker system were starting to wear thin and he could feel that at times he was getting a tenuous grip at best. There was a smell of metal, oil and something long burned in the sterile confines of the shafts. Ezy wondered vaguely, if that smell was him.

The filters in Ezy's crude cybernetic prosthesis, still new to him, were working overtime to parlay the sterile environment into a breathable solution. At times, Ezy felt like the filters were failing, like the wall walker system, and he wouldn't be able to get any air into his scarred lungs at all. But, then he would imagine the oxygenation filling his body and he would realise his mind was trying to play tricks on him. The system was only three months old. It would hardly be wearing out already.

The floating sphere, really a digital readout holographically displayed from the cyberjack in his cybernetic prosthesis, led him to a building that, despite the painstaking journey to get there, seemed exactly like the hangar he had entered the shafts in. For a bewildering moment, Ezy wondered if he'd gotten lost.

Even with the long corridors of empty space that Ezy had traversed, the carnage of this place seemed to loom over Ezy pulling him into a tight embrace he felt he could never escape.

The red light of the floating sphere flashed as Ezy clambored upwards to reach a horizontal join. Ezy perched himself on the edge and grimaced. All right stop no more doubts. He gazed, grim faced, down the horizontal shaft. He felt a tingle as his eyes tried to follow the length of it. It went for kilometres in a straight line.

“Turn off the lights and I'll glow.”

Adhered to the sheer surface of the vertical shaft via his wall walker system, Ezy Entry unlimbered his Lobaev Arms SVLK-14SL laser sniper rifle from his back. He popped the bipod at the rifle’s front and perched it on the smooth surface of the horizontal shaft before him as he fished out his multi-optic scope from his webbing vest. Clipping the scope onto the rifle, Ezy quietly checked the chamber. The payload was secure and waiting. Now all Ezy had to do was wait.

The Lobaev Arms SVLK-14SL laser sniper rifle was something of a record-breaker in it’s time, firing a charge at almost triple the speed of sound.
“Such a charge can pierce a rail that is 3cm thick. Imagine what would happen to an enemy. No energy-proof vest will help, not even Dragon scales could withstand such a weapon. And certainly not a splugorth queen’s unholy carapace.”
It was a gift from Hudson Blackwell when he pulled him from the rank and file of the troopers deployed to take on the swarm of slugorth spawn. Ezy’s band of brothers had gone down fighting, but Ezy, in his role of squad sniper had taken down an admirable amount of the spawn before taking a tentacle to his face. He survived, the lone survivor, and the lower half of his face was replaced hastily with a cybernetic prosthesis that gave him new abilities at the cost of his functioning humanity. But it was his feats of slaughter, one neatly placed laser charge at a time, that had brought him notoriety. Hudson grabbed him, debriefed him, and made him part of this mission so quickly that Ezy was left in no doubt that the hastily attached and crude prosthesis was his doing.

The floating sphere, distended a metre in front of Ezy and produced by a usb stub firmly wedged into the cyberjack in his prosthesis, continued flashing. A digital readout of it’s speed was written in the air below it. As the flashing increased in speed, Ezy prepared his body for what was to come and hunkered down and slid himself into his weapon.

The Lobaev Arms SVLK-14SL fires a a 408-inch Cheyenne Tactical Energy round at 900m per second from the barrel, hence the manufacturers claim of (almost) triple the speed of sound, but, what made the SVLK-14SL really special was it’s 5km range. The long range precision offered by the SVLK-14SL prevented the enemy being shielded by distance. Ezy had a single modified round. And Hudson Blackwell had a tracking beacon implanted in his gold tooth.

The floating sphere ceased flashing and became still. It was time for Ezy Entry to effectively change the battlefield and end the war. He held no sentiment for the deceased. He held no empathy for the enemy. Ezy had attached the multiscope out of habit.
Ezy’s cybernetic prosthesis filtered the air around him in the sterile chamber so his blood could be oxygenated. There was no wind trajectory to factor. Ezy’s human eye fixated down the long ventilation shaft imagining what it could not see. The closed ventilation shaft access lid and beyond it the head of Hudson Blackwell.

The normal round for the SVLK-14SL was a 408-inch Cheyenne Tactical Energy Round. It could pierce dragon scale as easily as it could pierce thick alloy. This modified round was denser than the standard round, the energy round encasing a single homing beacon in the shape of a long, thin, deadly ballistic bullet.

Ezy Entry imagined he breathed in and out, the holographic sphere flashed yellow, and he squeezed the trigger.

The telepathic splugorth queen standing between Hudson Blackwell and the maintenance hatch never knew what hit her. The energy round fried the maintenance hatch, and the bullet, with it's homing beacon bearing down on Hudson Blackwell's gold tooth, punched through the splugorth queens brain.

“And just like that we, just you and me Ezy, ended the whole damn splugorth war! And, well, I guess Captain Lasar had a hand in it - seeing as he planted that homing beacon in my tooth. I had no bleeding idea!” Hudson hands Ezy another drink. “I know you think I orchestrated that face of yours Ezy. But it was a matter of necessity. We were pressed for time, and we needed a man with your innate ability - and the functions of that cyberware. But now, I’ve got another job I need a man like you for Ezy. Only this time, it’s not to save the world and not even get to keep an OP sniper laser rifle. This time it’s to make enough cash to give you a real shot at getting an authentic cybernetic face. How would you like that Ezy? To be able to taste your food again?”

Ezy’s proboscis shoots out: a sophisticated system of six thin, needlelike stylets: and he slurps the liquid into his crude cybernetic prosthesis, it's microprocessors filter out any immediately noxiously terminal poisons or gases and send the alcohol down a nano-enforced tube that ends up in Ezy's stomach. He can't even feel the soothing warmth in his chest.

Ezy Entry would like that a lot, he’d like that a damn lot.
Ezy Entry
Pace: 6; Parry: 7
Toughness: 5
Armor: NG Maverick Riding Armor

Rifts Speed Tribes Adventure
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Re: Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Daniel »

Image

GT nice opening post! @Ezy_Entry has earned a bennie for that post.


Sounds of patrons drinking and eating in the bar, the Snake Pit, mingled with a cheap piano that played in the background.

Ezy stares at Hudson Blackwell – and envies his humanity. Or pseudo-humanity. Or faux-humanity. Or draconic-humanity. The bastard could still smile and laugh regardless of what form he took. Ezy's crude cybernetic prosthesis couldn't smile, or laugh, it could only crackle. A pale, humiliating, imitation of a laugh.

Hudson looks Ezy right in the eyes, sees past the crude cybernetic prosthesis, gaze shooting under Ezy's reinforced baseball cap that forms part of his riding armour, “It has been a second hasn't it mate. By the Dragon Kings of Tolkeen, so many stories to tell and we were together a … what five weeks or less!”


Leaning back in the chair Hudson glances around the Snake Pit before answering Ezy. It was still early. Most of the rowdy crowd will arrive soon though.

”In a few days at noon, we are meeting a bloke by the name of Desmond Bradford. He says some of his contractors were captured and he wants them back. Sounds like his men are working for the Coalition States. Says he was contracted to search for oil here in Texas and some bandits snagged a few of his men when they were traveling. He’s going to give us details and instructions. Claims he knows who has them and where they are, but doesn’t want to send in his mercs or ask the CS for help. Seems to think that would piss off his employers. Says these captured fellas have some vital company info on them. He’s offering 100k for the info and 20k per man rescued.”

Letting that soak in a moment Hudson goes on after a sip of his laced drink. Burps. Laughs and looks, a little pale.

”I’ve got several of our old squad back together. It’ll be like old times, but better. Now here is the fun part. Next appointment, after the contractor is with Erin Tarn, she’s the one who wrote that underground book the CS hates. Yeah. She’s in town. Wants to write another book. More of a first hand experience book. So she and some Lazlo dudes stroll into Texas and come across a group of guys claiming they have fled from the CS and a contractor company after finding something amazing. Some relic. They steal the details saying where it is and try to set up a buy. But it goes badly. Erin’s group try to save these blokes from some tribe of mercs but only Erin escapes the firefight. The guys with the details are captured and her Lazlo escort all killed. She contacted me, I met her few years ago, and wants to hire us to find these poor captured fellas and then rescue them. She’s interested in the information too but actually seems more worried about the dudes. We are meeting her at 2 in the afternoon, same day as Desmond.”

Grinning Hudson nods.

”One leads to the other. Now. Here’s how I wanna do this. We tell the guy Bradford we are down. No problem. Then we chat with Ms. Tarn and tell her we are down. We rescued the blokes and see what the relic is before deciding on how we play that. Lazlo has fronted 200 k for taking out the tribe, dead or alive and rescue of the men. I don’t know what tribe of mercs it is yet. But we will figure it. We collect on that then maybe collect with Bradford too. I for one am not keen on a CS presence in Texas though. Unless the relic is too juicy to let go.”

Raising his glass up as a toast to Ezy, Hudson says, ”Whatcha think?”

The front doors of the Snake Pit push open and a female saunters into the seedy bar. The music stops and heads turn to see who has arrived. It’s like everyone here is paranoid and depending on who comes in might feel the need to flee. The life of crime has most everyone edgey in Crossroads. Blackwell whistled as he eyed the
Image
. Vibro blades in each of her black boots she looked otherwise unarmed. After a quick stop at the bar, grabbing a liquor or some kind, she walked directly towards the table Ezy and Blackwell occupied. It looked as if she might speak to you when a cat call stops her dead in her tracks. Her face cringes and her shoulders hunch as a lizard like D-Bee calls out at her, ”Human honey that must taste good as it’s devoured by my long tongue. Hey! Girl! Come ride my tongue!”

It’s pretty obvious who the lizard man is talking to. Standing still the woman in black slowly eyes Ezy and Hudson as she very slowly reaches out to take hold of a pool stick.

From Ezy’s vantage point he can see a fight is coming. Several gangster looking fellas start to advance on the woman and she looks set to bash them with the pool stick.


Decide on the course of action and narrate it. Blackwell looks like he is about to jump into a good old fist fight bar brawl. A common occurrence in the Snake Pit that surprisingly is usually nightly and non fatal. Fists fly and heads get kicked and everyone nurses wounds over drinks afterwards.

Additionally carry on with conversation with Hudson if you like. (Before, during or after the possible fight or calming negotiation you attempt).

If it comes up. The woman’s name (a freelance mercenary: is Zee).
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Re: Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Blackfish »

Glancing across the room at Hudson and Ezy, the woman in leathers and sporting vibro knives looks at the two. She looks like she scoffs inwardly as she slowly grasped a pool stick. Keeping her back to the advancing thugs she looks at the window’s reflection to see them coming and a grin spreads across her face.

Ezy reads her demeanor as she silently blows a kiss towards him: Mischievous. Flirtatious. Evil.

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Re: Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Ezy_Entry »

Raising his glass up as a toast to Ezy, Hudson says, ”Whatcha think?”

”Human honey that must taste good as it’s devoured by my long tongue. Hey! Girl! Come ride my tongue!”

It’s pretty obvious who the lizard man is talking to. Standing still the woman in black slowly eyes Ezy and Hudson as she very slowly reaches out to take hold of a pool stick.

Ezy Entry barely glances at the woman clad in black leather from head to toe as she walks towards them sitting at their table. His communicator crackles as he prepares to answer Hudson's question, but he is interrupted by the crude catcall of a lizard man biker. It is pretty obvious to Ezy who he is harassing. Hudson's attention has been diverted from Ezy, and he is looking at the woman in black with a glint in his eyes. Ezy knows Hudson well enough to surmise who the black dragon is betting on.

Ezy sees the woman in black reach out and slowly take a pool stick, the way she handles it makes Ezy raise his eyebrows under his cap. Seeing her steeling herself, it's obvious she can handle herself and that pool stick is about to become a deadly weapon. She shifts her stance, and in the smoky light of the tavern Ezy can see her profile, getting a good look at her womanly features for the first time since she entered the bar.

Ezy leaps to his feet. Hudson looks to him in surprise. Hudson was used to Ezy being the calm, collected type who analysed situations, made plans, and only after triple checking his procedures would he execute those plans along with any targets. That was part of what made him such a boon to a group orientated thinker like Hudson. The other part was that he rides a motorbike like a gangster. Ezy's communicator jack warbles, but in the cacophony of sound in the tavern and the clink of glasses, and the tap of the pool stick on the floor, and the sound of one of the thugs slipping on his brass knuckles over his wedding ring, and the sound of clothing rustling as weapons are surreptitiously unsheathed, and the tap of that pool stick on the floor, and the shifting of the womanly mercenary's feet, the high heels of her combat boots scraping on the fake wooden floor; Hudson does not hear nor comprehend the squawk.
“Why, you're a changed man, Ezy. I'm partial to a barney, meself lad. Let's let off some steam before we talk business.”

Hudson nimbly stands and raises his fists as he assesses the situation: seven biker thugs rapidly approaching with moustaches for pulling, nose rings for pulling out, long hair to wrap around fists, bare skulls that always hurt more without the padding of hair when an elbow smashes into the side of their heads. There was no distinctive whine of energy weapons charging, or safeties of more kinetic weapons, and as such Hudson is quietly confident that this is going to be a bust up.

Glancing across at the womanly mercenary in her leathers and vibro-blades tucked into her combat boots, she seems to scoff inwardly. Keeping her back to the advancing thugs, Hudson sees her look at the window’s reflection to see them coming and a grin spreads across her face. He returns the grin revealing his gleaming gold tooth.

Hudson surges forward and passes the damsel in distress. He's vaguely aware of Ezy staying still, that was a quick holiday for the man, but he sees the womanly mercenary tense, lift the pool stick, shift her weight: no doubt to take out the leader of the bikers. Hudson will leave her to that task, giving her the satisfaction of taking out the most verbose member of the gang. He will take out the next man, and the next man after that. He will grab the giant, hairy, wolfman in the middle in a grappling move and send him flying into the others like a dead wookie in the night. Hudson will then turn to the womanly mercenary and bow in his most gentlemanly, and, yes, flamboyant, manner.

As Hudson moves past the womanly mercenary, out of the corner of his eye, he sees her blow a kiss towards Ezy. Mischievous. Flirtatious. Evil.

Hudson barely registers the pool stick smashing into the side of his head.

It had been a long time between black outs for the black dragon.

Ezy Entry
Pace: 6; Parry: 7
Toughness: 5
Armor: NG Maverick Riding Armor

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Blackfish
Daniel (Lars)
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Re: Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Blackfish »


Currently wearing leathers and has two vibro knives. One hidden 3 shot e-derringer pistol. Image


Undercover Lieutenant, Zieja “Z” Kashbrook, had joined the Coalition States years ago leaving behind her past. Buried it deep.

The woman once know as Zee Carter stopped dead in her tracks, by the pool table, in the Snake Pit, in the Texas Freelands. She realized it looked like she had been cat called and upset. That would work well for her mission. It had been the names Ezy Enrty and Zee Carter floating across her memory that had stopped her. The rush of memories.

What the hell was Ezy doing here?

Desmond has asked her to spy on the man Blackwell. The last person she’d have expected to see here was Ezy. He knew she had joined the CS. She’d have to do this a little differently then.

Her eyes narrowed as she sensed Hudson’s move. Do I look like a maiden in need of saving?

Screw it she thought. She could spy on the black mercenary by talking to Ezy. That might net better results. If she could manage to keep herself in check and not hit the man. Desmond told her to not do anything that would prevent the meeting. The good doctor still wanted to hire Hudson.

Speaking of hitting.

Z smiles, blows a strategically placed kiss and swings the pool stick. Not swings like a cowboys punch, a straight jab with the thick end of the stick straight to the temple to knock out the target, like the highly trained martial artist and CS Commando that she is.

Crack!
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Re: Inchoations / Opening Scene (Ezy)

Post by Ezy_Entry »

Zeija stares Ezy down as the assorted d-bee bikers crowd around.

“Settle boys,” Zee whispers tightly. Ezy can see she's obviously in command of not just the situation but the bikers. “Keep an eye on the black dragon, yes, he's a dragon. No mutilation, no deaths, no pillage. We're just here to deliver a message.”

“Pool sucks?” Ezy's communicator monotones. Another drawback to the cybernetic prosthesis – it sometimes speaks his thoughts before he has time to censure them.

“Pool sucks, heh,”Zee snickers, turning the pool stick slowly in her hand. “It's actually a great game. Very zen, very focused. It's almost a martial art. No, the message isn't for you actually, Ezy. It's for him”.

Zee gestures to the fallen dragon with her strong, womanly chin, “The dragon is fallible.”

“The dragon is fallible?” Ezy monotones.

“Is that thing stuck on playback? Yes, Ezy, the dragon is bloody fallible, that's the message. That's business. But us? That's personal.” Zee moves in, moves right in, violating Ezy Entry's personal space boundary.

“Hey now,”
“She's gonna kill him, I tole you.”
“Naw – she's gonna kiss him.”
“Where? His forehead? Kiss him goodnight more like.”

Zee pauses. Her shoulders hunch up and her neck strains; Ezy can tell shes seething, “Shut. Up. Shut. Up.”

“Great. Now she's gonna kill us.”
“I'd rather have her - “
“Duudde!!”

“Perhaps you should leave it alone? Now that the party is jumping.” Ezy offers helpfully, holding his hands out, palm up, finger pointed.
Zee's hand shoots out and catches Ezy's left wrist in a vise-like grip, “What? Like you left ME alone?”

“Oh boy!”
“Duudde!!”
“Yeah but -”
“Duudde!!”

“No flashbacks, Ezy. Just the cold, hard story. Something changed in me that night, our final night,” Zee says with a hard whisper.
“I didn't mean to leave you behind. It wasn't time to go solo,” Ezy's monotone interrupts.
“They were waiting for us, Ezy. I was out of the picture before I even knew what was happening. I've got the burns to show for it. Here,” She gestures to just under her right rib cage with the hand that she is holding Ezy's wrist with. “And here”.
Ezy Entry finds his palm pressed into her chest directly below the shoulder. The effect is to pull them together tighter, almost in an embrace. “I had to crawl away through ventilation shafts like a wounded rat.”
“Accidentally! Gunshots rang out like a bell. All I heard were shells -”
“Someone found me who shouldn't have, Ezy, and I was never the same," Zee breathes in and out, Ezy can feel it on his face. "And now, after all these years, I find you. And you're hooked up with this veritable dandy – who is my current mission. Which means, it means -” Zee lets go of Ezy's wrist with a start and lightly pushes herself away from him.”- I cannot enact my long awaited, and painstakingly meticulous, revenge on you! Because you're working for him!”

“Hey – I never heard him say th-”
“Duuddee!”
“But, no, I mean, yes, I never heard him -”
“Duuddee!”

“So, an impasse, Zee?” Ezy quickly says, not missing the exchange behind Zee. One advantage of the cybernetic prosthesis communicator jack – no one could get the drop on him in a game of snap. “A Peco Empire Stand off.”
“Maybe – Maybe not? You're not infallible either, Ethan.”
Ezy surmises that this is not the time to point out that Zee was not infallible either, as proven by how hard she fell for him when they were partners.
“Nor you, Zee, like all cynics, you're a romantic at heart. We fell together.”
Damn this communicator chip.
Surprisingly, Zee's face softens. She looks at him, really looks at him. Ezy can see the rehash of their shared moments in the reflection of her widening eyes. See the shades of ancient whispers on her unpursing lips. Words that neither of them had spoken to anyone before or since.

Ezy barely registers the pool stick smashing into the side of his head in a tight swing delivered with meaning.



The last thing Ezy remembered, before going down like a bag of mutated rat manure, is the sound of the dbee bikers guffaw mixed with a deep, guttural cry of, “duuuudddde! She -” The first thing he sees is Hudson sitting next to him in the gutter. They are sitting propped up outside the Snake Pitt which is now boarded up and closed, narry a mutated mouse moving. Hudson hands him a bag of glowing gel-ice. It is the only unnatural light in the street. Ezy holds it up to his aching temple and realises that Hudson's face is illuminated by a similar bag. They are nursing matching shiners.

“Well squire?”

“Seems the choice has been made for me, Hudson. I'm in.”
Ezy Entry
Pace: 6; Parry: 7
Toughness: 5
Armor: NG Maverick Riding Armor

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