From: Jeff Huo Subject: IC: Wolves Glen Pub Date: 23 Nov 2000 00:00:00 GMT Message-ID: X-Trace: news.itd.umich.edu 974985269 207.75.178.145 (Thu, 23 Nov 2000 08:14:29 EST) Organization: Denizens of the Wolverine White Coat Ghetto NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 23 Nov 2000 08:14:29 EST Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.storyteller The door to the Pub slides open with a , like the hatches of Star Trek. [OOC: If the Pub connects to everywhere, then surely not everywhere is the door merely going to swing open in the old, manual fashion, no? ;-) ] Through the open door, one can see a bustling, run-down, chaotic futuristic street scene...reminicent of Downbelow on Babylon 5 or the slums of the Mars colony from Total Recall...and in shuffles a short, hooded figure, as the door shuts behind her. The first thing you notice is the smell --it smells. Smells bad, like garbage and puke. As she stumbles into the light towards where Leigh and Mirabelle are sitting, one noticies she's dressed in a fairly ragged collection of clothing --a hooded jacket several sizes too large for her, with "Royal Ashanti Mars Corps of Engineers" stenciled on the back...a dirty pink sweatshirt with a crudely drawn picture of a scantily clad woman posing seductively, and "Fantasy Girlz --what be your pleasure?" written below it...the pants of a jumpsuit again far too large. One foot has a boot again far too large, the other wrapped in rags. The hood of the sweatshirt falls off her head, and it becomes obvious that the new patron is a young Pooka girl --a border-collie, now you notice the scraggy tail behind her. Her fur is ragged and matted, her eyes hollow and sunken, a solid guess from all the available evidence is that she's a beggar or street person of some kind, no more than six or seven years old. She shuffles slowly up behind Mirabelle, clutching herself, and trembling slightly. She looks up at Mirabelle, and asks softly, "Miss?" Mirabelle glances at the girl, then returns to her conversation with Leigh...much as many a denzien of all our worlds would consciously ignore a panhandler...screws her nose slightly at the powerful smell. The little Pooka girl asks again, this time more desparately. "Miss? Please?" Mirabelle very pointedly and deliberately pretends the little Pooka girl isn't there. The little Pooka girl shakily reaches out a hand, tugs on the hem of Mirabelle's dress -- "DO YOU *MIND*!" Mirabelle snarls as she turns on the little girl, violently snatching the hem of her dress out of the little Pooka Girl's hand. Mirabelle inspects the hem, and with great annoyance notes the black grease mark there that the little girl's hand has left. "Why you little..." she snarls, "BEGONE!" The little Pooka girl is stunned, frightened, backs away as best she can. She trips on her overlarge boot, and falls to the ground in a heap, crawls a bit away, looking fearfully at Mirabelle... Satisfied the girl will leave her alone, Mirabelle returns to the topic at hand.... The little Pooka girl crawls a bit further, tries to get up off the floor...but the last of her strength appears to leave her. She collapses near the corner of a wall and does not move further. -Mirabelle Little sniveling street trash! Really, their parents should do a better job than that! and -? -- Jeff Huo | jeff@spundreams.net.nospam (remove nospam) U. Michigan Med | http://www.spundreams.net/~jeff New to the group? Welcome! Please visit http://www.pepin.demon.co.uk/wolves/ IC Character sheets at http://www.spundreams.net/~jeff/wgpatum.html