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Priest 2

James Broussard, known as Bishop Fuzz, enters the run-down tenement building where he lives. He passes homeless people sleeping in the halls as he makes his way to meet with his associates at the Purple Haze bar. At the bar, Fuzz greets the orc Jinga, troll Sika, and human Deveaux. They are meeting with a runner and a corporate employee to discuss a potential job.

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Arun S
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133 views

Priest 2

James Broussard, known as Bishop Fuzz, enters the run-down tenement building where he lives. He passes homeless people sleeping in the halls as he makes his way to meet with his associates at the Purple Haze bar. At the bar, Fuzz greets the orc Jinga, troll Sika, and human Deveaux. They are meeting with a runner and a corporate employee to discuss a potential job.

Uploaded by

Arun S
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as DOCX, PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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The hall reeked of

mildew and sweat. The deep shadows hid ragged transients


sleeping in smelly heaps. James shook his head as he stepped over
a particularly dirty hobo whose bulk had spilled into the center of
the corridor. The dregs piled up in the halls on the coldest day no
matter what the landlord did. James' face hardened as he moved
closer to the tenement's front door. As he pushed the door open
his face darkened with a look of intensity. He was no longer James
Broussard. The people in the shadows knew him as Bishop Fuzz,
magic muscle for hire. He pulled the supple coat closer to his thick
frame and scrambled down the cold, stone steps. The Barrens were
just starting to come to life in the early dusk. Fuzz passed a group
of people wearing cheap, synthleather outfits. They gave him a
wide berth as he mumbled under his breath.
Watching him as he passed, the punks whispered carefully
to keep Fuzz from hearing. "There's that crazy shaman again," one
remarked, "I seen him roast a hole go-go gang without batting an
eye, chummer."
Another added, "no drek, joy-boy, them magic types play
with ghosts and stuff! Makes me damn nervous, it ain't natural."
Bishop Fuzz didn't even seem to notice the surrounding
slum. He just walked straight to the Purple Haze bar, just like he
had a hundred times before. A huge neon light hummed over the
bar's bronze door. As fuzz stepped inside he was embraced by a
wafting cloud of purple smoke. The scent of nic-sticks almost
choked him before he took three steps inside. He nodded to the
bartender and headed toward a table that the orc motioned to.
Fuzz immediately recognized three of the men sitting at the table.
One was a big orc dressed like a Seoul Man. His well tailored suit
couldn't hide the sinewy muscles of the metahuman. The larger
occupant Fuzz also recognized. He was a troll that dwarfed even
the stout orc. The troll wore an expensive leather jacket over a
camouflaged jumpsuit. He sat facing the door, watching Fuzz
approach the table. The third was a rumpled looking human,
named Deveaux. The three were talking quietly with a slick
looking runner and a corp wage slave that was obviously out of his
element. Fuzz greeted his associates with a sly smile.
"Hoi Jinga, what chased you out from under your rock?"
The orc frowned and crossed his arms. The troll snickered and
shifted in his chair. Fuzz reached out and grasped the troll's
shoulder, squeezing gently. "Still fooling everybody with the
jarhead routine, eh Sika," Fuzz laughed. The troll shot him a
toothy grin and slapped Fuzz on the arm.
"So you finally decided that we were better company than
the rats in your apartment," the troll inquired.
Fuzz shook his head, "Nope, but I gotta make a living,
what's biz today?" The troll turned in his chair and introduced the
other people at the table.

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