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Medallions d20 Modern (Update Wednesday 09-20-06)
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<blockquote data-quote="Old Drew Id" data-source="post: 948033" data-attributes="member: 12175"><p><strong>Session 1 (5/07/2003)</strong></p><p></p><p><strong>Session 1 (5/07/2003)</strong></p><p></p><p>Brother Cooper tried to maintain some semblance of dignity as he barreled through the glass double-doors of the library, momentarily wrecking the sanctum of silence within the place. The storm and wind followed him in, and his long coat and white Stetson dripped rain into a quickly-growing puddle beneath his feet. </p><p></p><p>The library was old, that was to be sure. The place smelled of wood polish, dust, and just plain old age. The outer walls were strong brick, and thick enough to stop a cannon. The tables and bookcases were dark-stained wood. The lighting was dim and yellow and clearly antique, from fixtures maybe from the twenties, or even earlier. And no sign of modernization. No colorful banners, no computer kiosk, no buzzing fluorescent lights. </p><p></p><p>The only furnishing to provide even a hint of décor was an antique wooden globe set into the floor before him, perhaps five feet in diameter, and encircled by red velvet ropes. To the right of the globe was a display table. The Topic-Of-The-Month was “coin collecting”. Half a dozen books on coins and coin-collecting were on display on the table.</p><p></p><p>Between two bookcases, he caught a glimpse of a young Native American woman in a black leather jacket, hunched over a table in the back of the library, thumbing through a magazine. To his right, the checkout desk was occupied by a twenty-something Asian woman, chewing on her lip and glancing at him through narrowed eyes. At once she looked both nervous and unfriendly. A small nameplate on her desk read “Taylor Chu.”</p><p></p><p>“I apologize for the mess, ma’am. Seems there’s quite a bit of a storm blowing up.”</p><p></p><p>Taylor just frowned further, and returned her gaze to her book. </p><p></p><p>Thunder crashed outside.</p><p></p><p>“I say, my name’s Guyzell Cooper. My parish calls me Brother Co--”</p><p></p><p>“SHHHH” Taylor shushed him angrily.</p><p></p><p>“I apologize. I was just going to ask where your Bibles were. You know the Good Book says --”</p><p></p><p>“SHHHH” Taylor shushed him vehemently this time, and silently pointed him forward.</p><p></p><p>The Bibles were in the reference section, directly behind the globe. Brother Cooper’s boots squelched wetly with each step as he crossed over to the books. Selecting the King James, he sat down at the closest table and began to read.</p><p></p><p>The doors swung open again, and rain scouted ahead in as the wind invaded. A large figure loomed at the door. A black male, easily six feet tall, in a dark coat and hat. </p><p></p><p>Taylor looked even more nervous than before.</p><p></p><p>The stranger stood silently for a moment and then calmly lit a cigarette. </p><p></p><p>“You don’t smoke in here!” Taylor hissed.</p><p></p><p>“Baby, I’ve been in the rain for hours. I just want to have one smoke---”</p><p></p><p>“You don’t smoke in here!” she shrieked again. “You get the cigarette out of here! This is a library!”</p><p></p><p>“Baby, now come on. Don’t be like that. My name’s Willie Lamar, baby, and I’ve had a bad day, and---”</p><p></p><p>“You get the smoke out of here now or I call a cop!” The librarian moved towards the other end of her desk towards a phone. “You can not smoke in here!” </p><p></p><p>Willie grimaced wearily, and leaned back against the door. The door creaked open a few inches, and rain began to pour in again. He shoved the cigarette out into the rain. After a moment, he pulled the arm back in, took another puff, and shoved the cigarette back out the door again. </p><p></p><p>Thunder crashed again.</p><p></p><p>“You stop smoking in here!” Taylor picked up the receiver threateningly.</p><p></p><p>“Baby, I’m not smoking in here. Do you see a cigarette in---” Willie was cut off as he regained his balance. The door he was leaning against swung open rapidly, and a huge tub of a person stumbled into the room. </p><p></p><p>The new arrival was a thirty-something male, easily a hundred pounds overweight, wearing a black trench-coat and hefting a backpack. Rain plastered his thinning hair to his face, and he absentmindedly shrugged his shoulders to re-adjust the weight of the backpack as he stood between Willie and Taylor, near the display table. Turning to Taylor, he asked, “Do you have any books on coin collecting?”</p><p></p><p>Taylor stared at him for a moment in silence. Willie took another puff of his cigarette. Several emotions quickly chased across her face, but she eventually settled on a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. She silently, violently pointed behind him.</p><p></p><p>The fat man turned to the display table and began pulling books up into a stack under one arm. </p><p></p><p>Taylor began angrily, “hey…fat boy, those are books on display--” </p><p></p><p>“Yeah, I got it,” he mumbled, his back still to her. He stopped with the half-dozen books under his arm and headed to one of the tables in a corner near a window to read. </p><p></p><p>Taylor turned back to Willie, who flicked the remainder of his cigarette out into the parking lot. With a wink and a grunt of satisfaction, he let the door close completely and headed over to the skimpy selection on the magazine rack. </p><p></p><p>Thunder crashed again outside, and suddenly, the lights went out. A heartbeat passed as everyone waited in silence. Then, the loud sound of glass breaking pierce the silence, and Taylor screamed. </p><p></p><p>Dim emergency lights flickered into life above the shattered front doors. Four rain-soaked thugs dressed in ragged clothing stood in the puddle of broken glass, panting and grinning wild-eyed grins that betrayed souls bent on destruction. The one in front reached into the back of his belt and drew a long Bowie knife...</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Old Drew Id, post: 948033, member: 12175"] [b]Session 1 (5/07/2003)[/b] [B]Session 1 (5/07/2003)[/B] Brother Cooper tried to maintain some semblance of dignity as he barreled through the glass double-doors of the library, momentarily wrecking the sanctum of silence within the place. The storm and wind followed him in, and his long coat and white Stetson dripped rain into a quickly-growing puddle beneath his feet. The library was old, that was to be sure. The place smelled of wood polish, dust, and just plain old age. The outer walls were strong brick, and thick enough to stop a cannon. The tables and bookcases were dark-stained wood. The lighting was dim and yellow and clearly antique, from fixtures maybe from the twenties, or even earlier. And no sign of modernization. No colorful banners, no computer kiosk, no buzzing fluorescent lights. The only furnishing to provide even a hint of décor was an antique wooden globe set into the floor before him, perhaps five feet in diameter, and encircled by red velvet ropes. To the right of the globe was a display table. The Topic-Of-The-Month was “coin collecting”. Half a dozen books on coins and coin-collecting were on display on the table. Between two bookcases, he caught a glimpse of a young Native American woman in a black leather jacket, hunched over a table in the back of the library, thumbing through a magazine. To his right, the checkout desk was occupied by a twenty-something Asian woman, chewing on her lip and glancing at him through narrowed eyes. At once she looked both nervous and unfriendly. A small nameplate on her desk read “Taylor Chu.” “I apologize for the mess, ma’am. Seems there’s quite a bit of a storm blowing up.” Taylor just frowned further, and returned her gaze to her book. Thunder crashed outside. “I say, my name’s Guyzell Cooper. My parish calls me Brother Co--” “SHHHH” Taylor shushed him angrily. “I apologize. I was just going to ask where your Bibles were. You know the Good Book says --” “SHHHH” Taylor shushed him vehemently this time, and silently pointed him forward. The Bibles were in the reference section, directly behind the globe. Brother Cooper’s boots squelched wetly with each step as he crossed over to the books. Selecting the King James, he sat down at the closest table and began to read. The doors swung open again, and rain scouted ahead in as the wind invaded. A large figure loomed at the door. A black male, easily six feet tall, in a dark coat and hat. Taylor looked even more nervous than before. The stranger stood silently for a moment and then calmly lit a cigarette. “You don’t smoke in here!” Taylor hissed. “Baby, I’ve been in the rain for hours. I just want to have one smoke---” “You don’t smoke in here!” she shrieked again. “You get the cigarette out of here! This is a library!” “Baby, now come on. Don’t be like that. My name’s Willie Lamar, baby, and I’ve had a bad day, and---” “You get the smoke out of here now or I call a cop!” The librarian moved towards the other end of her desk towards a phone. “You can not smoke in here!” Willie grimaced wearily, and leaned back against the door. The door creaked open a few inches, and rain began to pour in again. He shoved the cigarette out into the rain. After a moment, he pulled the arm back in, took another puff, and shoved the cigarette back out the door again. Thunder crashed again. “You stop smoking in here!” Taylor picked up the receiver threateningly. “Baby, I’m not smoking in here. Do you see a cigarette in---” Willie was cut off as he regained his balance. The door he was leaning against swung open rapidly, and a huge tub of a person stumbled into the room. The new arrival was a thirty-something male, easily a hundred pounds overweight, wearing a black trench-coat and hefting a backpack. Rain plastered his thinning hair to his face, and he absentmindedly shrugged his shoulders to re-adjust the weight of the backpack as he stood between Willie and Taylor, near the display table. Turning to Taylor, he asked, “Do you have any books on coin collecting?” Taylor stared at him for a moment in silence. Willie took another puff of his cigarette. Several emotions quickly chased across her face, but she eventually settled on a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. She silently, violently pointed behind him. The fat man turned to the display table and began pulling books up into a stack under one arm. Taylor began angrily, “hey…fat boy, those are books on display--” “Yeah, I got it,” he mumbled, his back still to her. He stopped with the half-dozen books under his arm and headed to one of the tables in a corner near a window to read. Taylor turned back to Willie, who flicked the remainder of his cigarette out into the parking lot. With a wink and a grunt of satisfaction, he let the door close completely and headed over to the skimpy selection on the magazine rack. Thunder crashed again outside, and suddenly, the lights went out. A heartbeat passed as everyone waited in silence. Then, the loud sound of glass breaking pierce the silence, and Taylor screamed. Dim emergency lights flickered into life above the shattered front doors. Four rain-soaked thugs dressed in ragged clothing stood in the puddle of broken glass, panting and grinning wild-eyed grins that betrayed souls bent on destruction. The one in front reached into the back of his belt and drew a long Bowie knife... [/QUOTE]
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