Reydala Shadowrun
From Reydala
Prologue
The year’s glorious 8294 and the world keeps on spinning. It’s just like it’s been for as long as you can remember, we live where the way of life swings with the latest innovations. While everyone lives on the curves you get the old codgers ranting about moral decay, but then you’ve got the pessimists (who throw a shit fit if you don’t call them “realists”) going on about the natural order of change. Either way, Reydala ain’t your perfect utopia that’s for damn sure. The days that make up fairy tale stories with heroes and evils doing battle are long since gone. Because of that, you watch people trying to bring back old beliefs long forgotten, discarded when it stopped fitting with the way life worked. Granted, everyone who isn’t trying to bring those back couldn’t give less of a damn.
Once in a while you’ll rumors and whispers about that pain Laviege off causing trouble wherever she shows her head. Even if she’s not raising hell herself, once in a while you’ll get those pain-in-the ass flunkies making a scene. Maybe she’s trying to make sure that us mortals don’t forget that there are divines like that still around. Or maybe she thinks she can pull that shit because you don’t see anyone keeping her in line. Let’s be serious for a minute -- the normal bloke won’t have to worry about that kind of crap. Just making a living sometimes can be hard enough.
But hey, you’re a runner, so making a living shouldn’t be too bad now, right? You can pick and chose your jobs – it’s not like you don’t know your own skills; and if you’re good enough the jobs go right to you. Guess that’s where this story starts.
A week ago you hear about some job. It’s the same story if you met the client or heard from your usual sources. Some asshole who kept anything identifiable about him covered. Going on about a job, some kind of run; the type of deal you couldn’t turn down. You don’t get the specifics on the work itself, just it’s up your alley, but the pay’s more zeroes then you’d expect with a third in down payment just for hearing what the job is, if you bail you still make off like a bandit.
Of course, a deal like that would always have a catch. You get a date, time, and address, and can't believe your eyes. The location's north of Leyandra, outside of their territory. A metropolis in the frozen cold, a land under no one national flag, lawless except for the saps who hole up in that sealed off city with a metal sky. The renowned city called Blacot.
So that’s the start. If you walk, if you take the job, who knows. After you step through the doors and sit down with all other people who gave in to their curiosity, whatever happens will be up to you.
Prologue Part 2 -- The Story So Far
(Elaborated for the 2011 actual start)
It was just another job, nothing out of the ordinary. You met with your Mr. Johnson, got your job's specs, then went off and did it. Hell, for each and every one of you it was a job that catered to your or your group's specialties. Easy money, right?
After you did the job proper and went back to see Mr. Johnson is when shit started to get a little weird. For some, there was a man wearing a gas mask while dressed in dark clothes and a trench coat. For the others, it was a blonde woman wearing a suit and a large pair of headphones around her neck. The two had the same fundamental message for you – you've been selected, watched, and approved for a possible run that could be a jackpot.
Where's the catch? That's in the details that you're not getting. All you've been given is promises of possible jobs with amazing pay and an address to an old warehouse at the edge of Blacot. Suspicious from the outside, but the inside was an empty storage room and an elevator that went down a number of floors.
When the doors opened again, you stepped out into a cold steel room. The only furnishings were chairs and couches to sit a good number of people... yourself and any others who got the same call here.
