She swallowed badly, whiskey burning on the way down. She coughed and lit a cigarette.
It was close to closing, only five or so regulars left, the die hard drinkers. Sinatra crooned about time wasted and love turning sour on the bar's tinny speakers. The Copperhead was hot and dank, the ancient AC doing nothing but make noise. Don was wiping down the bar, the dim light gleaming on his pate. Sergeant Bask was talking at him while slurping down his ninth beer.
"... old stations, the ones they closed after the flooding, kids down there like you wouldn't believe, tons of 'em, all strung out on this new shit," he said.
"Yeah, you said," said Don.
"Atlas," said Bask, "It's the whole department these days, all we deal with. Like wildfire, three months ago- nothin', now it's every-fucking-where. Rich kids, ghetto rats, everyone."
"Must be good stuff," said Don, sliding another beer across the bar.
Bask turned from Don and gave her a bleary, appraising look, "What do your people have to say about all this?"
"My people?" she asked, raising an eyebrow and rapping the bar for Don to refill her glass.
"Don't be cute," Bask said, "Oswald, what's he doing about this new shit? I know he ain't selling it. Ain't comin' from him."
"I don't come here to talk work, hon," she said, "and anyway, I work for a casino, not a drug dealer."
"Yeah okay," said Bask, "and my daughter's still a virgin. Peter Oswald runs half the fuckin' city, and you're his what?"
She smiled, "Executive assistant."
"Uh huh," said Bask, "the secretary- 'scuse me, assistant- of the fucking king of the under world knows nothing about this Atlas craziness. Why do you drink in this shit hole, anyway?"
"Shit hole?" said Don, a scowl creasing his impressive jowls.
"The mind is its own place," she said, smiling and snuffing out her smoke, "put the drinks on my tab, Donny boy, see ya soon."
Welcome to Kingston, a city of several millions in the American heartland, bordering Great Lake Oriab.
I'm looking to tell RP a noirish, urban low-fantasy story with a big cast. Emphasis on low fantasy- no elves or vampire covens. We'll be exploring- and building- the creepy, crumbling, neo-gothic/art deco, crime-infested city of Kingston, with a view *maybe* of building our own version of the Batman mythos. The idea here is of a masked vigilante trying to bring order to a crumbling metropolis, and playing on all the themes and tropes that make Batman so intriguing, but without 'batman' himself or any of the usual cast of characters.
Collaborative world building/story telling is a big one here, lets design a memorable setting. For inspiration, think Tim Burton's Gotham meets True Detective, with the lovecraft dial turned up a notch or two. I have a vague idea for a central plot involving a new drug flooding the city, Atlas, that we can pursue or ignore as we like. Atlas is a small purple liquid that comes in glass vials you break in your mouth. It causes ecstatic states, and (of course) the occasional horrifying, mind-breaking trip.
Characters could be pretty much whatever you want- including our as yet unnamed vigilante(s). We can figure out just how 'low' we want the low fantasy to be together.
Advanced writing please. I'm sticking this in 1x1 but am open to a number of players.
Any takers?
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