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SR Run 2a: Extractions are easy, right?


Wyrd

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On the edges of some of the seedier parts of Denver lay a great many clubs, catering to both to the 'street' people who help give them their atmosphere and to wealthier individuals who want the thrills of go-gangs and wizzers, drugs and guns, but not the actual danger that would come with going deeper into the darkness. These places, built of darkness and light and those who scream eternally against both, are natural havens for the people who live on the borders of so-called civilized society. Here, the only way to seem out of place is to make a deliberate effort like you are trying to conform. One-such club, The Baboon's Backside, is neither so packed that there is a line to get in, nor empty enough to discourage people from sticking around. Glow sticks, implants, and neon tattoos flash in the erratically lit darkness of the dance floor, a frantic spasming body of flesh that seems to almost be a horror of cthonic levels to people first entering the club, until their eyes have adjusted enough to separate the dancers into individual beings trying to escape the monotony of their lives. The music is cranked up so high that it is effectively impossible to tell what it is, except that it has a hard, drumming beat.

2 elves, one with fur, and a human enter this club, all heading towards a thin elf dressed in a custom suit who appears to be viewing the chaos around him with undisguised contempt.

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