Remember waiting for the simple text pages of the chats to load back in the day? Boy, that sucked. Let's hope it doesn't come to pass again since I can't exactly pay ISPs to be in a 'fast lane.' Visit dearfcc.org to make your voice heard and try to save Net Neutrality!
This dark damp sewer is home to the cities rodent population, and those who wish to travel unseen. There are many collapsed sections and the unwary are easily lost. The occasional bloated corpse has been found half devoured by rats and many unwanted items are dumped here.
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~A Dashing Fox~: Ah, so close to its quarry. What fun that would have been
~A Dashing Fox~: Rats shoot looks at him, as if to say 'what are you doing here?' but the Fox merely makes his way towards where the fresh water is and avoids the much as best he can further.
~A Dashing Fox~: A few of those rats, quite unnaturally so, strike him almost as big as he is. Brrr
~A Dashing Fox~: Not nearly as amazing, of course.
~A Dashing Fox~: Some of the rats are getting not just bigger, but uglier. NOT good sign. He finds pipe leaking fresh water, and cleans off...ah!
~A Dashing Fox~: A quick shake to gets some of it off, and dry just a bit and the slightly fluffier fox goes on his way before the rats get organized
~A Dashing Fox~: and gone!
Stick: Think I'm gonna like it here. *sloshing his way through the tunnels.*
shadowy figure: IN a room off the main sewer tunnel protected by rubble and an entrance partially submerged under water he waits. The dim light of an old black and white tv illuminated the chamber just enough to be creepy.
shadowy figure: The news has been quiet this week. The usual murders and petty crime grace the pages of the local newspaper while national and international stories make up the brunt of the evening news cycles. He's been watching and reading the news every night this week waiting for them to mention the Necropolis Arms Hotel. Other than a brief mention of a gas leak forcing occupants to leave their floor there hasn't been any mention of it.
shadowy figure: He waited and watched for them to talk about what was found in room 216 but he knew they wouldn't. A councilman having an affair with an underage gay prostitute or a local high school athlete's dalliances with a teacher make the front page and keep the citizens buzzing for weeks but Necropolis' police have ways of keeping the real news hidden from the public. Blood sells newspapers but living hotel rooms covered in blood and gore and reaching out to strangle anyone that enters it causes panic in what few citizens would believe the story.
shadowy figure: But the ones that need to know this information, the ones that really control the city, have their ways of finding things out.
shadowy figure: ((email@example.com))
shadowy figure: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
: This dark damp sewer is home to the city's rodent population, and those who wish to travel unseen. There are many collapsed sections and the unwary are easily lost. The occasional bloated corpse has been found half devoured by rats and many unwanted items are dumped here. In this haven of filth and disease, a small space has been cleared of the usual debris to serve as a small squatter's camp-space.
: In addition to the cardboard and milk crate decor, several shopping carts overflow with scavanged and stolen electronics. Wires, motherboards, and metal climb through the cart bars and tangle the wheels. A short woman of indeterminate age giggles to herself as she roots through the piles. The smell of hot solder almost overcomes the stink of rot and waste. She shoves her taped-together glasses up her nose, the braided pigtails of her hair sprouting fuzzy whisps and corkscrews as she rumages. "Gonna be great, totally amazing...." she mutters madly as she comes up with a fist-full of wires. "Get these wired right. Yep. Yep. Yep. Get -paid.- Yep. Credit card scammers, too easy, yep." She scoots over to another pile of stuff, plastic and wiring. She grabs the soldering iron and begins to attach things. "Get -paid,- yep. Get the card numbers and info, sell it, pockets gonna jingle-jingle! Ain't no stoppin' it either!"
: She grabs another pile and drags it closer, sorting through with a titter. "You try and remove my little baby, it goes BOOM, yep! Yep, you better not try it! Nope! Not with these loveys goin' on gas pumps! Yep, yep, yep!" She stops long enough to cackle, and then checks the connections she's set with molten metal. "Get paid, yep! And it goes BOOM!"
: Giggling to herself still, she finishes the work she's doing and collects half a dozen similar devices, finished (or as close to is as can be) and jams them into a worn, battered, backpack. "Come on, it's flying monkey time! Yep, yep, yep!" Shouldering the pack, she disappears into the sewer system.