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Fatal Furries
[sblock=Perception]
Trollick: 38+83(d100)=111, Hawkeye: 36+50(default)=86, Syd: 27+76(d100)=103 [/sblock]
Hawkeye is busy watching the cute little kittens play. Trollick and Syd notice odd behavior from the girl with the white and black hair. She looks back and forth between you and PC (Persephone Clearwater) as though she wants to intervene, but remains silent and tense.
Do you have anything of Spring's that I may use to aid in our search, a piece of fur, personal accessory, even the removed chip will work if it has not been cleaned?"
PC looks at you as though you were being difficult on purpose.
“A piece of fur? Of course not, don’t be grotesque. We incinerate all leavings by our animals. We used to have the signal chip, and of course we cleaned it, but it’s been lost, along with everything else Spring owns. I have nothing left of her.”
why do you suspect the Canine Corporation?
PC looks as though she is about to answer when the girl with the white and black hair blurts out,
“It wasn’t the Canine Corporation. Don’t bother them. The last guys almost started a war.”
PC frowns back at her friend and says,
“This is Slivermoon, my best human friend. She never met Spring so she doesn’t know how awesome a bond-mate she was. She doesn’t understand how confusing it is for me not to be able to sense her.”
[sblock=Analyze Way lines] Trollick: 38+73=101 [/sblock]
With those key words from PC, Trollick is able to deduce that headquartered in this building is an enclave of bonded magicians and animals, cats specifically. Although he cannot see the Way lines in other people yet (Collegiate 10+), he can guess that all the people in the building are bonded to one or more of all the felines. The Runners have heard rumors of places like this, but by their nature these organizations are secretive.
If Spring was PC’s bond-mate she should have been able to find her no matter where she was.
PC says to the Runners,
“I cannot just move on from Spring like she was a pet. I must know what happened to her, and who was responsible. If it wasn’t the dog-bonders then I don’t know, but if you have to hurt someone with your ugly little guns, so be it. You get paid when I know what I want to know.” PC turns, takes Slivermoon’s hand, and the girls walk off together. You can see Slivermoon whisper something with a pleading expression into PC’s ear, but trying to eavesdrop yields no results.
Obviously dismissed, the Runners exchange glances and decide to ask around in the building about the job. The cats are ever present and quite annoying. They include large cat varieties and all the creatures are in excellent health. You get hissed at as many times as you have to shoo away a leg rubber. The people flat out refuse to speak with you, looking at you with contempt and calling you ‘Clearwater’s little errand boys’. You don’t see PC or Slivermoon again. Since starting trouble in this skyscraper would mean certain death, you decide to go outside and ask around.
The butler sees you out, but as soon as you decide to leave the cats ignore you. Outside of the skyscraper the night is the same as you left it before. The traffic on the roads speeds by, moving in perfect precision. The ever-present lights of the electric Houston sky wash out the black of night, moving back and forth from airships and drones.
“Runners,” you hear a call and turn to see Slivermoon waving to you from an alleyway between two buildings.
You suspect a trap, but you have no other leads and after your treatment in the enclave you’re ready to fight someone anyway. You follow her around the corner, wary and ready. As you thought, Slivermoon is farther down the alley than she would be if she wanted to talk, and between you and her are three individuals. They are unlike any creatures you have seen before in the hard realm. They stand between five and a half and six feet tall, their bodies are hairy, and their heads are feline, a male lynx, a female lion, and a male leopard. They are standing on two feet and wear light combat armor similar in style to Slivermoon, but are not wearing foot gear. On their furred hands are delicate looking silver gloves, the fingers ending in gleaming sharp claws.
“Here’s your deal, liveborn,” Slivermoon shouts, the alley distorting her voice.
“We keep scaring your kind off, and my stubborn little elf keeps hiring more. This time we’re stepping it up. You’re going to quit the job, but first, we give you a thrashing.”
Roll initiative and declare intentions
