Postby Schme » Sat Aug 20, 2005 4:23 am
(This for everyone. I really hate to say, and I know is supposed to be finding out inside of the game, but if you’ve read some of the back posts, I think everyone is just knowing that the streets of the place city are not so full of cars as most modern city streets are today. Think India. It will just be easier that cleared up.)
(This for Fleegle. By the way, I am sorry, but seem too have confused myself. Is your character named Ron or Rob?)
The reeking alleyway was small, filthy and dank, and was in between two three story concrete tenements, identical in design and look, with iron bars on the windows of the first floors. The street was about a block long, and was lined with the same tenement buildings on both sides, with the exception of one, which had a store on the first floor with a big blue sign printed in a number of languages saying “Government General Store”.
The street was paved, although how long ago was anyone’s guess. The road was crumbling, and large pieces of concrete were dislodged and lay about the street haphazardly.
At the end of the street in both directions was an intersection, beyond which was another street built very much the same as the one Ron was in. This continued for as for as could be seen from his current position.
A moderately packed crowed of people filled the street from end too end, some having backed into the alleyway as they’d run out of room. Almost all of them were young Chinese and white men, in their late teens too mid twenties, although there were a small sprinkling of older and younger ages, aswell as other races and members of the finer sex. They all seemed to be in some way affiliated, partly judging from the symbol that reappeared over and over among them. Many wore black or white armbands with a very odd code of arms, that being a white or black background, with two large "C"s in each corner, one green and one red. Above the bottom right corner was the picture of a tree. In the middle was a golden crown, heavy set with jewels, with a large sword coming in behind it. To the left of this was the two dimensional picture of a gray wolf. Many wore black or white T-shirts with the same thing on them.
The crowd’s attention was focused on a small group, heavily emblemed with the code of arms, that was concentrated around a short white bus parked on the opposite side of the street from Ron. On top of the bus was a man moderately tall white man with graying brown hair, a pencil thin mustache and a hint of eastern European accent, wearing a blue police uniform with the exception of a cap, with all the usual police equipment. His entourage surrounding the bus, although not looking at all like official police officers, were armed with steel police truncheons.
The officer on top of the bus seemed to be giving a speech, which the people on the street found profoundly interesting.
“…….Cannot let the subversive elements stand in the way of our nation’s prosperity! We cannot allow them too hamper us in our path too true and pure unity! We must redouble our efforts, and fight them on every front. Under the guidance of our good Prime Minister and his majesty the king, we must continue our battle against those people and things who would attempt to destroy and undo the people’s labour.” As he said this, he gestured wildly with his hands, so as too further emphasize his words.
“This, my friends, is the hardest battle of all, as our enemies are among us, among our people and embedded in our culture. Our neighbors, our friends, acquaintances, loved ones, any and all have the potential to become and be misguided, to work against their own people and for the good of the revolutions. We cannot let personal feelings get in the way of what is best for the people. Should someone stray from the path, you must help them too see the light, help them learn of their wrongfulness. No exceptions can be afforded. It is essential too report and subversive activity too the authorities, too take action against those who would fight the good of the nation. Not only is this your own good, nor only for the good of the concerned, not even just for the good of the person themselves, but also, and mostly, for the good of the people as a whole. Yes, this is the greatest battle, as it is not only without us, among our people, in the minds of the counter-revolutionaries, but in our culture, and in ourselves.”
The policeman was now staring at the sky dreamily with watery eyes, seemingly overcome with emotion. Then, raising his fist in the air quiet suddenly, he looked back out towards the crowd and yelled, with a voice that echoed all down the street “Long live the dominion! God save the king!”
A cheer went through the crowd, not a cheer of reverence, but more of a cheer of encouragement and agreement. With that, the man in the police uniform hopped down off the top of the short bus and turned to one of his entourage to begin conversing about something. The crowd then became looser, with some people leaving on there own or in groups to whatever business or other, but with most dropping into conversation with friends or people around them, these conversations being mainly in English and Mandarin.
(This for Varriuss.)
The reeking alleyway was small, filthy and dank, and was in between two three story concrete tenements, identical in design and look, with iron bars on the windows of the first floors. The street was about a block long, and was lined with the same tenement buildings on both sides, with the exception of one, which had a store on the first floor with a big blue sign printed in a number of languages saying “Government General Store”. Another irregularity was a building, about as large as two tenements, in the center of the block, directly opposite from the alleyway. Its windows were painted black, and it had large green neon lettering over the double doored entrance which read “The Smoke Jar”.
The street was paved, although how long ago was anyone’s guess. The road was crumbling, and large pieces of concrete were dislodged and lay about the street haphazardly.
At the end of the street in both directions was an intersection, beyond which was another street built very much the same as the one Varrius was in. This continued for as for as could be seen from his current position.
From the people on the street walking in both directions, either too work or too their tenement homes, one could tell that it was a mostly white neighborhood.
A scene seemed to be taking place outside the nightclub (to spite the fact that it was bright daylight outside.). Three hummers, with what looked to be police sirens on top of them, painted blue and white, and with the letters “GRC” painted in black paint on the sides, were parked in the middle of the street.
About thirty men were on the scene, coming in and out of the nightclub, or standing on the street doing one thing or the other. About ten of the men were wearing blue police uniforms and had police equipment much like normal police officers, with the exception that all but three had Uzi’s strapped over their shoulders. The rest were young men in their mid teens to mid twenties, all wearing black and white armbands and T-shirts with an odd coat of arms on them, that being a white or black background, with two large "C"s in each corner, one green and one red. Above the bottom right corner was the picture of a tree. In the middle was a golden crown, heavy set with jewels, with a large sword coming in behind it. To the left of this was the two dimensional picture of a gray wolf. Some of these young men were armed with various makeshift weapons, such as axes, sledgehammers, cudgels, boards, and the like.
Sitting on the curb under the watchful eyes of the officers were a few handcuffed men in their mid thirties, all looking very upset, with expression of utter dismay on their faces.
Several women who were obviously prostitutes were talking to two officers, the women looking very uneasy.
The officers and youths were bustling in and out of the building, carrying a multitude of things outside. Liquor, indiscriminate wooden crates, garbage bags full of things, lab equipment, among other things. Much of this they weighed, before setting it aside in a pile, or loading it into one of the hummers.
Great commotion could be heard from inside, smashing and banging sounds resonating out into the street.
"One death is a tragedy, a million is just statistics."
Joseph Stalin