Wordslingin'

Last night, we nearly made Georges the GM cry by completely derailing his campaign. But it's okay, we got it right back on track... and rolling full-speed towards a head-on collision. What do you get when you're trying to steal Gears from the Legion Noire, the special forces of the Southern Republic? I don't know, but I expect we're about to find out!

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Koreshi Chronicles – Chapter III : The Big Bad

Hermes72 Uplink in progress…
Transmit HB104-Zl.SG…

30AU1922
Receiving trans…Uknw Svr…
Encoding…Encryption active…

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Koreshi Chronicles - Bored to Tears

19 Autumn, 1922

Lyta was bored, and she was frustrated. She'd swung by the sparring ring, even with her arm in a sling, planning to watch some of the fights. But after fending off questions about her injury and her encounter with the rovers who'd taken Kylie, she'd gotten fed up and left.

She'd tried running, but had given it up the first time she tried to reach for a convenient ledge and realized too late she couldn't move her left arm, and wound up stumbling into a wall before she could stop herself.

She'd tried to find Antoni in the hopes of acquiring a Gear she could use for practice, but Davood's brother was busy and not in the mood to deal with young cubs with too much time on their hands.

With her mood rapidly deteriorating, she wandered the hallways. She was a mere two corridors away when she realized her legs taking her towards the motor pool and Ennik's workshop. She stopped, turned back, and stopped again. "Hell," she muttered under her breath. "It's not like I've got anywhere better to be."

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Earning His Stripes

18 Autumn, TN1922

The gear stood, squat and blocky in the little cranny of the motor pool. Ennik liked it back there, where he could curl up between the back foot armour housing and the SMS wheel. He could hide in the shadows, nursing a bottle when things got too tough. Pig Pen was always a discreet drinking companion, never moving to give away Ennik's hiding spot, never complaining about the vile smoke from Ennik's cigarettes. Only this time, as the gear's sensor eye gleamed in quiet recognition of its pilot, Ennik was standing in front of the gear, bottle in one hand, bucket of black paint in the other. He took a swig from his bottle.

"Ain't ever done this before," he explained. "In the War, if we got our hands on a gear, it was for a specific mission. You know how it is. So I never thought twice about it."

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Koreshi Chronicles: Chapter III - Politics

18 Autumn 1922, Wolves Den

The sun was descending on the crags, filtering soft red beams through the jagged terrain and casting long dark shadows across the Wolves Den. Antoni Mor was in the hangar area, a largish cave which had become home to the rover’s cadres of Gears.

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From the diary of Lyta Lassander

16 Autumn, 1922

We brought Kylie back from the rovers who kidnapped her. She seemed okay. Kind of out of it, but not hurt, just dehydrated. I think Grey Cub went off to yell at her mom.

The guys who took her were perverts. I mean, she's only 15! She's just a kid! What kind of a bastard can think about having their way with a kid like that?

Todd shot one. Lukas too. Right in front of me. I've still got his blood on my clothes. They're both dead. I guess they deserved it, but... I don't know. I hope I didn't scream. I don't remember. I don't like killing people, though I suppose if anyone had to die, these guys would be good candidates and the world is probably better off without them. Still, being sprayed with blood brought back way, way too many bad memories.

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Wordslingin'

Last night's session saw Our Young Heroes (tm) rescue a prepubescent girl from the hands of men who wished her ill. Afterwards, we descended yet again upon the town of Haven to relieve them of some of their Gears, so that the PCs would have means of fighting and transportation better than elans (the Terranovan equivalent of jeeps). In the process, we made some enemies, we made some friends, and we made some witty banter.

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Koreshi Chronicles - Down But Not Out

13 Autumn, 1922
 
"Hey. Cubling."
 
"Lyta," she replied before she even took her eyes off her plate. The cafeteria was almost empty, but clearly not empty enough.
 
"Right, Lyta."
 
She looked up. The man who stood across the table was taller than Lukas and just as muscled, but older. Lyta guessed he was at least 35 cycles. Five french braids traced lines across his head. He wore the loose-fitting clothes Lyta had come to expect of the Desert Wolves, but he wore them with style. She had absolutely no idea who he was, other than someone clearly more important than her.

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