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|A Master's Gambit|
|Tweet Topic Started: 23 Jun 2011, 14:06 (189 Views)|
|Xynith||23 Jun 2011, 14:06 Post #1|
DR Affiliate Representative *Professionalism-derp*
I'm the GM, you're the player. My job is to make stuff up and throw it at you; yours is to be awesome and fix it, or not die.
A Flyer in the Night
Shayrelle held the tight in Lautrelle's place. That black bastard; he always went scampering back to the Busty Wench Bar at night. Frankly, his insufferable cowardice saved his life. And it may have also helped him successfully reproduce—not that Shayrelle knew what Lautrelle did with those nasty harem wenches.
But someone had to be where the flier said someone would be. Here she remained. Even in the hot air of the night, her robe was one of nightshade color—a dark violet, though from a distance, and without light, it appeared black. Concealed features were reasonable for women in this nothing-burger town. The veil she wore over her face clasped over the bride of her nose and draped down as far as the low-line of her breasts; impossible be too safe.
The reason this sort of attire had become seen as sound for the locals amounted to more than custom; it was a matter of survival. No one knew who went around doing all the raping anymore. Not that anyone wanted to find out; the leavings were far from human.
Yet, this matter was of less importance. Right now, the flier spoke of help wanted. Help—for a fountian. What sort of people were required for the fountian, and what sort of people the message actually drew... Well.
The lantern flickered; Shayrelle gasped. “Ah! You!” A long curling nail on the end of an index finger—a glued on, painted nail—jutted forth at whomever it was that came her way.
“You must be here for the fountain!” She hopped with joy. “Fucking fountain—augh! The gall of that thing!” She became more serious after that. The flier did not actually say very much:
Severe fountain malfunction.
$510,000 cash reward.
Must be capable, and liable to not wind up dead.
Meeting between the hours of midnight and before sunrise by the pole-sign of the Busty Wench Bar, in Meretown (the tiniest town since Noonelivesherevilla).
Not mentally competent.
Fun Wiff Root~
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