2012 12 21 2

Fri Dec 21 2072

The Warrens, Orktown. 18 Hours till Proposition 81-B passes.
Horseman Metal Dave's blood lust is faltering. Nearly two months of constant fighting between the elves, the Blackboot Skins, and no major ground gained since the October Surprise. His gang number's have weakened, through death or desertion to the Sons of Sauron. Internal conflicts, the kind of macho posturing he's used to quashing is getting harder and harder to handle. Whispers of needing fresh blood, literally, pop up moe and more often. Now word about some gang of "Hooks" making everyone nervous?

KER-THUNK! A finely crafted arrow injects itself into a pile of garbage just missing the mans foot. "All I want for Christmas are some dandelion heads on a pike.", the ork grouses and looks at as a non-reflective black and chrome helicopter gunship suddenly whooshes past high above. And it's gone.

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