IC: The Sun Never Sets, IC thread for The Sun Never Sets Options

[Tecumseh]

It’s a crystal blue day in early November, a pleasant rarity for this time of year in this corner of the world. In fact the weather has been suspiciously nice for the last few days, ever since you received word of this meet. There’s frost at night but during the day it’s sunny and dry, an Indian summer as some would call it.

It’s an unusual location for an unusual meet. The message got to you by back channels, a whispered suggestion from someone who knows you and knows what you do. Go hear what the J has to say. Maybe it pans out, maybe not. It doesn’t cost anything to listen.

So that’s why you’re standing in a field near the small town of North Bend, fifty clicks east of Seattle. The skyline is dominated by Mount Si, which towers a thousand meters over the river valley below. A branch of the Snoqualmie River runs nearby and the field is ringed with colorful trees that are still grasping their remaining autumn leaves. It’s a pleasant scene, somewhat at odds with the gruff character standing in front of you.

“I guess I’m the Johnson,” he says irritably through clenched teeth. “But let’s cut the bulldrek and call me Gunny instead.” He spits to the side.

He’s a human male who must be going on 65. He’s got salt-and-pepper hair (with salt winning the war) cut close in a buzz cut. He’s clean-shaven with a flushed complexion that’s either the result of his heritage or alarming hypertension.

“My mother was Salish, I’ll have you know,” he says defensively, looking around to see if anyone wants to challenge him on the point. “My father was a Son of a Bitch.”

What to make of him? He has obvious cyberware, including metallic cybereyes that look twenty years out of date. His skin is laced with thick dermal plating that looks just as old, judging by the various knots and irregularities protruding from his skin.

He folds his arms across his chest, flexing to show off his pecs. His arms bulge and he looks fit for his age, within reason. Either he’s gone a little soft in the middle or he has one giant abdominal muscle.

“I’m here to offer you a job,” he finally continues. “Take it or leave it, it’s all the same to me. I’ll find someone else to do it if you don’t. But whatever you decide, say so now.”

He looks around with a surly expression, sizing everyone up.

“It’s come to my attention that there is a coven of witches on the loose in the mountains south of here. I don’t know much but these these kooks call themselves the Three Weird Sisters or some other nonsense. They’ve been around for years, peddling their brand of modern mysticism and New Age bulldrek.” He makes a vague, dismissive gesture. “The locals have tolerated and even supported them until now but recently they’ve turned to violent eco-terrorism.

“There have been reports of attacks up and down the Cascades. Anything south of here and north of Tir Tairngire seems to be fair game. I don’t know what the elves have done to stay on their good side” – he eyes Elessar warily – “but they’re staying in Salish-Shidhe territory for now.”

He transmits a file to anyone with a commlink. The file contains a report on a series of strikes up and down the Cascades. The targets have been isolated houses and small communities, especially those in the mountains near the forest. The method of attack varies but generally seems to be magical in nature. One house was leveled by a freak storm while an isolated town was burnt to a crisp by a fire spirit. There have been casualties, the graphic evidence of which you see in the file.

“Response teams to the scenes say that the mana is twisted. They say the Sisters have become Avengers, and if they’re not checked they might turn down a toxic path.” He looks around meaningfully to make sure he gets the point across. “Regardless of your politics, the last thing we need in the neighborhood is a clique of Reapers or Havocs. That’s where you come in.

“I want you to find the Weird Sisters and stop them before they kill again. I’m offering a bounty of 15,000 nuyen per sister, due upon delivery of satisfactory evidence that they've been dealt with. They’re nuts and they’re tough but they can be cracked. If you have questions, now is the time to ask.”

He falls silent and waits for you to respond.