Grinding Ghouls for Grins

GM: Nightshade
Players: Mr.T, Deborah, Questor.
Synopsis: Getting ready to grind some ghouls (Run in progress).
Date: October 2070


You're each contacted by your respective contacts with a message. A fixer by the name Shaquiel Jones is hiring help. The meet is to take place in the back room of Shaq's store. You're given directions to an old area of the FTZ. A line of old brick buildings that years ago must have been warehouses of some sort. A break in the buildings creates an alley that goes back to a small cul-de-sac. Two massive trash bins restrict access to the cul-de-sac to single file and trolls will have to squeeze to get through. The front of Shaq's office is much more friendly, a clean and bright pawn shop offering the finest goods and the best rates, the back is an old loading doc, a massive steel door that used to be used to unload freight and a smaller door that you've been instructed to enter through.

Your contacts vouch for Shaq as someone they've done business with in the past.

Mr.Terrific scopes out the place for bonus traps as opposed to obvious traps. The whole place is an obvious channeler, but then, there would have to be a reason behind some sort of attack. Without that, and without other detectable problems, he heads thereto with all due care.

«Auto-Judge[]» Mr.Terrific (#7242) rolls Intelligence:
1 4 5 5 8 16
You paged Mr.Terrific with 'There are tracks on the walls behind the trash cans, it looks as though the massive canisters could be raised or lowered, possibly to let vehicles through. There are several cameras watching the ally as well as the cul-de-sac and the maglock on the door is damn near military grade.'.
Mr.Terrific pages: are there unexpected numbers of guys ready to snap a trap shut, perhaps detectable on astral flyby?
You paged Mr.Terrific with 'No life signs save the normal mice and rats.'.

Mr.Terrific takes note of the delightful added security features that he detects as he heads to the door he has been instructed to use. If he was looking for safety, he wouldn't go in that door. But if he was looking for safety, he likely wouldn't be in Denver at all.

For the meeting, Deborah shows up about 5 minutes early, armed, but loaded with Gel rounds. Her pistols are in their concealed holsters, tucked away underneath a greatcoat. Aside from that, she's unarmed. Her movements down the alleyway can only be described as slinking… someone who's used to walking into places where people might jump out at you… and someone who's used to reacting quickly to such things. Her eyes scan the narrow alley as she solks down it, cautiously.

For quite some time Questor didnt hear from good old Skip, and then there was just the short message to contact someone called Shaquiel Jones for some Job. When Questor arrives at the given location, some things look a little bit strange at the warehouse. Being the rather carefull guy he takes a quite intensive look around.

Shaq's back room is a rather imposing area. A Massive steel loading door tightly closed and locked is behind you and before you. The walls are reinforced cinderblock covered in insulation and then steel plate. From the looks of things this room could be a refridgerator or a freezer. The door you entered through is a good quarter meter thick and clunks shut after each person enters with a meaty 'thock'. On the inner door a trid screen is displayed and several pannels that look like they could slide open or closed. Speakers with cameras just below them are mounted in each corner and a shiny button just below the trid screen looks like a camera lens as well. On the trid is a simple message that reads. "There will be three of you, please wait."

Judging that there is nothing suspicious, Questor starts heading for the door leading into Shaq's Office.

Shaq's back room is a rather imposing area. A Massive steel loading door tightly closed and locked is behind you and before you. The walls are reinforced cinderblock covered in insulation and then steel plate. From the looks of things this room could be a refridgerator or a freezer. The door you entered through is a good quarter meter thick and clunks shut after each person enters with a meaty 'thock'. On the inner door a trid screen is displayed and several pannels that look like they could slide open or closed. Speakers with cameras just below them are mounted in each corner and a shiny button just below the trid screen looks like a camera lens as well. On the trid is a simple message that reads. "There will be three of you, please wait."

Mr.Terrific knows 'of' a spell to get himself out of fixes like this. But he doesn't know it yet, it's just on his 'list'. Which stinks, but such is life. What also stinks is that there are no chairs. Mr. Terrific takes a studious stance, hand ccasionally fingering his rattlesnake bolo tie, and giving a pleasant salute and smile to those who enter; of whom only one has he seen afore.

Deborah steps into the room, and looks around. She even inspects a few things that look like they may be for sale in the front office of the pawn shop. Then she notices the others, and moves over to them. She offers a slight inclination of her head in way of greeting as she approaches.

When Questor enters the room he looks around, feeling like this could be nice place to be trapped if things go bad. After looking around, he gives the other 2 persons in the room a "welcome" smile.

The trid screen darkens then brightens bringing up the image of a tall dark skinned gent. The projection gives the illussion that he's standing behind a counter right in front of you. "Thank you all for coming, my name is Shaquiel Jones. I have a very important client, one Mr. Johnson who desires your services." The room behind him appears to be the shop you saw from the front, if the camera is to be believed he has his back to the shop while he's talking to you, you can see another counter behind him, a faint ghostly reflection of Shaq's back appears in the air behind him every so often hinting that there might be plate glass over his counter.

Shaq continues, "Mr. Johnson is in need of an escort throughout the city over the course of the next two days. He wishes to take in /everything/ that Denver has to offer." Shaq places particular emphasis on the word, "From conversations with individuals who have some knowledge of your capabilities, I believe the three of you will be able to see to his needs. In exchange for being his escort, you will each be paid twenty thousand nuyen…I believe from this sum you should be able to draw conclusions as to the level of expertise needed to escort Mr. Johnson. Based on this are you interested enough to continue?"

"Sure thing," Deborah says, finding a spot on a wall to lean against while Shaq gives the pitch for the job at hand. She crosses her arms, and keeps the others in the corner of her eye. And after he gives the gist of the job, the woman nods. "Interested, yeah, but I'd like to hear more before deciding that the sum is adequete."

Mr.Terrific hm!s. From the description, he can see at a guess why the three have been called and what his task is likely to be. "It sounds good so far, but there's a line between escorting, protecting, guiding, and 'doing.'

Questor nods, looking at the other two others giving some kind of positive respone: "Continue please".

Shaq nods, "Excelent, you came highly recommended and I would expect nothing less than professionalism from such as you. The gentleman in question has for many years wanted to pursue certain activities that he was unable to up till this point." Shaq glances down at a display you cannot see from the camera angle then looks back up, "You three were selected for your ability to manipulate and understand a persons motives, for your ability to procure goods and services, and for your raw magical talent. Mr. Johnson has for some time been forced to deprive himself of satisfying his baser instincts. He would, as he himself put it, like to let his inner beast run wild. You're jobs will be to channel his inner beast into pursuits that will satisfy him while minimizing risk to himself, to provide what is needed during these pursuits, and to assist him in a manner that is not outwardly obvious…he is a man of great pride."

Mr.Terrific nods to this, figuring where he lays and what he'll be called upon to do. And of course, the opportunities that will come with it. "Call me in."

Questor shurgs, "quite vague, but if i can support, why not. I guess im in on that"

Deborah nods as well. "As long as he knows our roles and doesn't expect us to exceed them, we'll be fine," she says.

Shaq shakes his head, "He is aware that you are to be escorting him throughout the city, he is unaware of your capabilities. Your task is to bring him through the next two days happy and alive."

Mr.Terrific pipes up with, "Does have have any well-known enemies whose assassination attempts we should expect?"

Shaq gestures and one of the slots slides open and a small open, a poc-sec sits on a tray that extends out a small distance, "He has no enemies that would anticipate him being in Denver, the poc-sec contains the details of when and where you are to meet him as well as the location of several provisions I have laid out ahead of time. These include a suit of body armor and several vehicles."

Deborah picks up the pocsec and skims over a few things on it. "Anything entirely off limits? He alergic to Strawberries? Predisposition to have his brain melt out his ears if he picks up the wrong BTL? Anything like that?"

Shaq considers, "He is infected with Krieger Strain of HMHVV, as such he has some trouble with bright sunlight, he has resources to take care of his dietary requirements already set aside for the next two days. Other than that, the normal alergies that everyone has…bullets, blades and the like."

Questor pages: i may wanna roll MagicalThreats ? Do find out what he is ? i guess some vampire or what can that virus do to one ?;) i have read about those kind of viruses though ;-)
You paged Questor with 'That strain is what creates Ghouls.'.
Questor pages: and i see its highly virulent ;-)

Questor coughs "The strain that creates ghouls. It is the most virulent form of HMHVV, and infection can be passed on through a bite, scratch, or even just touch if the target has open wounds. We need to be carefull with that"

Mr.Terrific says "Our employer is obviously familiar with the fact that I know a spell to help reduce, but not eliminate, the risks involved."

Questor nods "Ok, sound reasonable i guess. Well, ok, no more questions from my side here".

Deborah is quiet for a moment, as she considers. "Krieger Strain complicates things," she says, looking through the pocsec's data, trying to find details on the equipment being supplied before deciding if the pay actually is.

The equipment supplied is basic body armor, the style looks familiar to Deb, along with a motorcycle, sports car, and pheonix personal flight drone. Each vehicle is of the high speed thrillseeker style.

«OOC» Nightshade says, "Deb give me perception roll please and is there anything in particular you're looking for?"
«Auto-Judge[]» Deborah (#2112) rolls Intelligence for "Debby see what?":
2 3 3 5 5 19
«OOC» Deborah says, "More specifically, seeing if there's some kind of chemseal type stuff in there to prevent any mishaps."

The armor is a FFBA with chemseal, with a 'casual' outfit options of armored clothing or a 'combat' option of camo suit and helmet. An overcoat is also provided. The armor and vehicles all also appear to be troll modified.

After taking the time to look over the inventory of things supplied, Deborah nods ever so slightly. "With the protection the armor you will be supplying us with, I believe that the fee is adequete. If Mr. Johnson goes out of the way to put himself in danger - meaning, if he knows we are there to protect him, and he still does not follow our… suggestions, for keeping himself safe - we are not to be held responsible for what may become of him."

Shaq shakes his head, "No, you are responsible for him. You are his escorts and his minders, but you are /not/ to allow him to realize you are minding him. He is to enjoy himself and feel he's had a chance to 'cut loose.' If you feel this is beyond your capabilities say so and I'll pursue other avenues."

Mr.Terrific adds, "But it is our goal to get him to cut loose smartly." Mr.Terrific is beginning to get an idea of what he is likely to encounter already.

"Alright", Questor nods, "while this can develop into some quite challenging thing, im ready to go. We have a tourist coming in; lets be good guides.."

Shaq nods to Mr.T's point, "Yes, which I believe is the specialty your associate recommended you for."

Mr.Terrific mutters something to Deborah and Questor. "I'm going to bet that he's a kid. Adolescent, maybe twelve or thirteen. Got infected at a young age, and he's been 'the boy in the bubble.' We'll see." He makes this guess without having looked at the pocsec.

Shaq looks between the three, "Are we in agreement then?"

Another moment to think, and the woman nods. "Yes. Now that everything has been clarified, I believe so," she says.

Mr.Terrific says "One last thing. Does he have his own money to spend?""

"Im sure we will be good guides err bodyguards of course" Questor smiles.

Shaq laughs, "Yes, he has access to considerable funds and will have adequate on hand in the form of certified credstick and scrip."

Mr.Terrific grins. "Kickass."

Mr.Terrific says "Ah, you're talking certified credstick. I'm guessing his SIN has his medical condition on it and would get us arrested?"

Mr.Terrific is just saying this conversationally, as he looks like he is totally ready to go anywhars.

Shaq makes another gesture and additional information is beamed to the poc-sec including an image of Mr. Johnson as well as basic medical information. Enough to assist a medic but nowhere near enough to identify him. The image on screen is that of an older troll, twisted by the disease he looks like a nightmarish impression of a troll's normal solidarity. Despite the high quality suit he wears he looks lean and predatory.

Mr.Terrific snaps his fingers. He'd lose that 12 or 13 bet.

Deborah knew she should have taken the bet.

At the motel Mr. Johnson waits, at the appointed time he steps out of room 113 and looks around. He's wearing a suit that bulks up his frame and thick gloves, large sunglasses and a hat with a do-rag under it. His teeth look to have been filed since the picture was taken. As he stands shading his face from the morning sun and looking around he could easily pass for just a lanky troll, but when you know what to look for the predatory speed of his movements become obvious and the way he keeps his arms hitched up a bit so they dont hang down quite so low becomes noticeable.

Mr.Terrific 's main change in attitude and clothing is the leather gloves, chosen to go with his duster. He is only too happy to approach with a smile on his face and an outstretched and upstretched hand and say, "Hey, damn glad to meet you. Call me 'Mister Terrific.'"

Presenting a winning smile Questor opens: "And im Questor, nice to meet you."

Deborah decides to wear the casual clothing option, with the chemsealed FFBA and the overcoat. "Good Evening, Mr. Johnson. We've been hired to provide you with security as well as supply you with whatever your heart desires. Was there something specific you wanted to do? We weren't given a list of any special requests…"

Mr. Johnson extends his hand in return, "Johnson…Mr. Johnson." His voices is thick and a little slow, "Pleasure…" He glances between the trio, "I've spent…years…tending the ill…I want…to hunt."

Mr.Terrific clasps and shakes without apprehension. "Then what are we hunting today?"

Mr. Johnson takes a deep breath, "I wish…to hunt down…the dogs that…did this…to me."

Mr.Terrific says "A man after my own heart. And here I was all worried that you were going to take us out into the woods to hunt rabbits or something. Do you know where they lay? Are they the sort of people who have names?"

Deborah nods in agreement with Mr.T. "A two day long hunt, or is there anything else on the schedule?" she asks, pulling out her own poc sec, pretending to take notes with it.

Mr. Johnson shakes his head looking towards Deborah, "No…just…the hunt." Then looking back towards Mr.Terrific, "The Ghouls…the mindless…rabid…dogs…that must…be put down."

Questor nods "This will be quite some fun, a two day long hunt. You got a plan already and have specific targets. Or..more general ?

Mr. Johnson shakes his head, "You find…the rabid dogs…I put…them to sleep…as they should have slept."

Mr.Terrific rubs his chin and nods. "If we're to get the specific ones that did you harm, we need a clue. A location where they used to be. Then we track their migration."

Mr. Johnson chuckles, "Those…are long gone…I hunt…to prevent more…like me."

Mr.Terrific says "Apparently any old ghouls will do! At the risk of suggesting the obvious.."

Mr.Terrific turns to Questor, "Spirit search?" And to Deborah, "Matrix search for recent sightings?"

Mr Johnson growls at Mr. Terrific, "No. Some ghouls are people…the rabid dogs…the mindless…those must be stopped.

Mr.Terrific visibly calms himself down before he gets too excited, and bobs his head in a conciliatory fashion. "We'll check it out. And like you said, you

Mr.Terrific says "You'll be the one taking care of them. We don't be starting anything with anyone who can say hello."

Mr.Terrific says "But we do have to get a line on something."

"Spirits may be able to find the rabid dogs… " Questor shrugs .. "but we should use all our information sources to make the two days worthwhile."

Deborah nods, tapping a few buttons before putting the Pocsec away. "Excellent," she says, pulling a phone out to place a few calls. "I might ask that, the next time you have such a request, you allow it to be known in advance? It might allow for an easier time on your behalf, and more time to hunt."

Mr. Johnson nods, "Short notice…all around." He looks a little off as he says that, but waits while the team does their thing, he does not sit still for long though getting up to pace. His legs are long and seem to stretch further than they should as he walks.

«Auto-Judge[]» Questor (#6955) rolls Conjuring - 2 vs TN 4 for "Conjuring F3 City-Spirit - saving 2 dices for Drain":
1 2 3 5 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Questor (#6955) rolls Charisma + 2 vs TN 3 for "Drain for Conjuring F3 City-Spirit":
2 3 3 3 4 5 11 17 = 7 Successes
«OOC» Nightshade says, "Force 3 city spirit, pose it appearing and whatever you're instructions are (be specific)."

When Mr. Johnson gets up to pace, Questor begins to take a deep breath. For a moment it seems, his eyes do flash and the surrounding feels to be filled with more energy than before. Questor smiles towards his new friend and oders it "Hello my friend i need your help. Please look for rabid dogs and report me when you find and where, but do not get to close, i dont want you to get harmed." Just after a second, Questor smiles again, and the surround feels again normal. "Ive sent out a scout" he smiles.

Mr.Terrific palms his forehead. Mr.Terrific says, "These are the jokes, folks, we'll be here all the week." Mr.Terrific asks Questor, "As an aside, are the spirits you summon.. literal kinds of guys, or do they 'know what you mean'?"

Questor smiles, "Of course they know, i show them images for what they have to look for - Works better than 1000 words. The words just for your entertainment"

Mr.Terrific whews. "So they aren't in fact looking for rabid canines. Thank goodness.. elementals are much more literal."

Deborah just watches, giving an impression of not being concerned with the magical side of things. "Matrix, I'm not all that skilled with, but I know a few people who can look into things."

The spirit zips clatters to itself and seems to move off in several directions at once, though that may have just been the debris it briefly animated, moments later it returns giving Questor feedback of countless masses of the rabid dogs scattered about but a massive amount of them in the area he would know as the Warrens.

Mr.Terrific awaits report.

Looks like the Warrens is a very good place if we want to see a lot of them" Questor speaks out, "shouldnt be to hard to locate them there.

Mr.Terrific says "A lot of them? How many?"

Questor says "Massive"

Questor says "But its kinda guranteed we run into them there… We could go there and then check again in more detailed - maybe on our own."

Mr.Terrific says "So, um.. if there were THAT many ghouls there, rabid ghouls… I would think you couldn't walk on down the street. And I have been there. But hey, I'm sure the Warrens ARE closer than here to where we need to be.""

Mr.Terrific is only too happy to pick up vehicles, suits, and go.

«Auto-Judge[]» Deborah (#2112) has the Contact Frank Carter with the following information (only to Nightshade):
----—> Contact for Deborah (#2112) <----
Contact Name: Frank Carter
Level: 1
Type: arms dealer
GM Note: Frank is an Ork that golbinized as a result of SURGE, and is making quite a living dealing in weapons.

Born to Militant Humanis members, Frank's childhood was filled with training for when the humans would rise and purge the metas. Or something. Quasi-military training that was led by weekend warriors hanging out with capsule rounds filled with paint.

When the Comet came and Frank Goblinized, his parents couldn't dump him in the warrens fast enough. What 'advanced military-like tactics' they had taught him helped him survive the desolate place, but he quickly learned that the small amount of tactics they went over really wouldn't cut it if. The thought that no matter how much his parent's trained, they would meet worse resistance made him smile.

He was picked up by the Aethernaughts, but since the majority of them disappeared in '64, he's moved on to something a bit more profitable than simply fighting other people for turf. Now, he provides them with the gear they need to fight.

Appearance
Frank dresses for the occasion. Sometimes, it's Street-Thug, with real Synthleather, and spikey bits and chains on his outfit. Other times, it's Corp. Proper, with a Futura Line outfit. He is /always/ well groomed, and his tusks whitened. Anglo in decent, he stands 1.8 meters tall, with black hair.

Relevant Contact Stats
Int: 5, Negotiation: 6, Arms Dealers: 6, Gear Value: 4 (Pistols: 6)


«OOC» Deborah says, "That said, I'm going to call him up, while out of earshot of TrollGhoulDude, where the best place to find rabid ghouls are, with the condition that people looking for them won't outright die with the cheap zombie movie-like flooding of them."

Frank gets on the line, "What, ghouls? Cha, Them's always a problem…they're always sneaking into grab them's that fall in the warzone…you go down there, you better hope you're dead-dead before they rush up for a nibble…you go north though, to sunrise, them's some scarey fraggers. Got lotsa the nutso ones, but then you gots the smart ones…like hunters with coursers…you don't want none of that."

Nah. Actually," Deborah says, drawing it out a little bit, "I'm looking for some of the slower ones. The ones that just kind of… shamble around. Not the smart hunters, or a nest really. I'm looking for low numbers… got a well-to-do corper who wants to play great white hunter, and I'm running security. We need something that seems authentic, but won't be much of a danger. Know any place that fits the bill?"

Frank coughs, "You ain't seen many ghouls has ya? They only gots two speeds faster than your friend or faster than you…and you better hope it's the first one not the second when a pack is hunting. Even the brain dead fraggers move like a wired up keebler."

"What about small packs?" Deborah asks. "Lett of an ocean, more of, say… 15, maybe? Preferably a smaller nest, but we might be able to manage. Also, I may have some nuyen to slide your way for some weapons for this little outing…" she turns to look back at the others and calls out loud enough to be heard, "Hey, anything you want picked up while we go play safari?"

Mr.Terrific waves and says, "I'm good," in his oblivious fashion. Visions of foamy-mouth dogs in his head.

Questor shakes his head. "Dont want to hurt myself with oversized sticks"

Frank says "Would tell ya if I knew, but I just make the guns."

"No? Ok, Yeah, sorry, man, he says he doesn't want anything. I'll give you a call first thing if he changes his mind, though," Deborah says, working to jump off the line quick-ish.

When we left our heroes they were considering how best to hunt ghouls with their companion, a massive troll ghoul by the name of Mr. Johnson.

Mr.Terrific had been fiendishly planning, while Questor had found likely Warrens locations and Deborah was working her contacts to determine which ones were insane to assault, having the intelligent ghouls, and which ones were, at least, only filled with unintelligent ghouls of an acceptable caliber.

The Warrens teems with Ghouls, the most like space to find them in scattered packs would be near the warzone, feasting on the corpses of the fallen. The more intelligent ghouls stayed away from the constant battle only tempting fate in that nightmare battle when no other prey was avaiable.

Deborah discovered that there are lots of ghouls, and that her arms dealer buddy doesn't know much of a difference between smart or dumb groups, or who is easy to hit.

Mr.Terrific says "Having secured armor and vehicles, should we move our base of operations closer to the Warrens? I have an inadequate plan."

Mr.Terrific , for his part, straps on his Happy Helmet, turning up the collar on his omnipresent duster and similarly making sure of the trauma plates in his secure jacket.

Mr. Johnson glanced between the three, "Is ready now?" He asks.

Deborah shrugs. "We can be. Most of what I've found is of little help, though."

Mr.Terrific says "We are ready to move in close, but not to engage."

Mr.Terrific says "Our information tells us that we can find ghouls at the Warzone, picking around the edges. We, therefore, might want to also pick around the edges. But lots of people pick around the edges in the Warzone."

Mr Johnson nods slowly, "So…we go there and hunt." He stands up looking ready to leave.

Mr.Terrific is more than happy to get in the car and drive to the general area, although he would rely on others to direct him. He tends to go to the much much nicer parts of the Warrens, where you only occasionally get shot just for walking down the street wearing grey.

Having collected the things he additonally needs - and thats in fact nothing, because Questor always keeps his valued items close, he nods to Deborah and Mr. Terriffic: Im ready when we have a plan. And maybe a site where we can set up a camp.

Mr.Terrific , as we are driving, speaks with all and Mr. Johnson. "So, now, plans. You heard me mentioning using Mob Mind, and Stunball, and Questor here using spirits to confuse the bad guys. I was thinking, the first group we see, I try to take them over, and make them our honor guard, and then we go after other groups. You," he says to Mr. Johnson, "are our heavy hitter. You need to stay with the group and do the serious mauling, while Questor sticks close to heal you, and our weaponeer does the shooting."

"Alrighty," Deborah says after looking over the others for another moment. "I'm ready when you all are, though I'd like a good long while to review the area before we commit to any action."

Once a thriving upscale shopping district, then a massive impound yard for vehicles unclaimed in the wake of VITAS, the Warzone is now Hell on Earth. Contested by virtually every gang and group in the Warrens, this district is little more than a free-fire zone where life can be measured in seconds. The outskirts of the area are still densely populated in apartment blocks, where families live six or more to a room.

The core of the district is where the major battles take place as surrounding gangs attempt to lay claim to the crossroads here and control the traffic throughout the region. Making matters worse are the remains of Tinkertown, the underground tech-colony last seen some six years ago when an earthquake cut the tunnels off from the outside world. Rumors of treasures and corporate holdings have driven the battles to new extremes.

There are no dominant gangs here, there is no authority that lasts more than hours, perhaps days. Conflict is an ever-present way of life, and anyone unwilling to do battle should stay far away from this district. Travel is almost always by foot, as roads are blocked by downed buildings and wrecked cars, and the streets are a ruin from battle, fire, explosion, and rogue magics.

Mr.Terrific asks, "If anyone has some serious ganger contacts, we can come in on their faction zone."

Mr.Terrific sees if he has gotten the 'stay with the group' idea clear to Mr. Johnson.

Mr. Johnson nods, "Yes, you gather them. I will end them."

"I can make some more calls, but I can't guarentee anything. I have very little dealings with the Saints, but you never know," Deborah says to Mr.T.

«OOC» Nightshade says, "Give me an etiquette vs 6 Deb for a 'you're on our side' pass from the Saints."
«OOC» Nightshade says, "BG Count for the area around the warzone is a 3."
«OOC» Nightshade says, "And what time would you like to head out (Ghouls are mostly nocturnal due to sunlight allergy)."
«Auto-Judge[]» Deborah (#2112) rolls Etiquette vs TN 6 for "I'm a terrible face":
1 2 3 5 9 = 1 Success
«Auto-Judge[]» Deborah (#2112) has the Contact The Saints with the following information:
----—> Contact for Deborah (#2112) <----
Contact Name: The Saints
Level: 1
Type: gang
GM Note: The Saints specialize in the sale of goods of all sorts. They are well known to be able to get just about anything for a buyer if they've got the cash. Rumor is that they've got an alliance going with the Ironsiders to help bring in goods, but neither gang will talk about it. The Saints are also into gambling and they control about 90 percent of all the gambling that goes down in the Edge. They also have a hand in every business in their turf as they charge money to protect these businesses from the wilder aspects of the edge.


It takes more than one call but eventually Deb comes up with one of her Saint's contacts, "Frag Yeah, so long as you're pointing your guns at someone other than us when you pull the trigger you're welcome." There's the sound of gunfire in the background then things go static for a moment, then a stream of profanity and more gunfire as your contact becomes occupied with staying alive.

Mr.Terrific asks Deborah, "Do the Saints have any particular enemies?"

«Auto-Judge[]» Deborah (#2112) rolls Intelligence for "Do they? I really don't know!":
1 3 3 5 8 9

Mr.Terrific continues, "Because you see, I'm looking for an honor guard, and if we're coming in on the Saint's side, and a good group of ghouls is not available, well."

"Hmm…" Deborah thinks for a moment, and then gets back to talking to the Saint on the other end of the line. "I don't suppose you guys would mind keeping a lookout for me an a few bud's backs? We're on a sort of a ghoul hunt. We're only after the rabid ones, though."

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