Clearly you haven't adventured with Pathfinder SWAT. Halfling is our preferred language. Not available on a base language sheet unless you're Human or Halfling and nobody thinks to take the language of such an unassuming race. Although "Sasquatch" came in a close second. It's all we speak when in mission.
"I just can't imagine that being a gnome servant would let her get enough excitement to prevent it. I've seen too many dead gnomes, and I'm not talking about the aphixiated ones in Dicky's closet." You should be more concerned that Rico called you the member of a well oiled unit. You're getting slow Dicky."
Ri'chard shrugs at the loss of the Boar n' Oysters, she never liked that dump anyway. She snickers...why would anybody want to take out a restaurant that's nothing more than Dicky's side project. Everybody knows SWAT members are as clean as they come, as members get booted out in a second if there's even a sniffle of wrongdoing; they even have a member of Internal Affairs serving. She smiles as she puts two and two together. The fact that anybody trying to break in likely thought Dicky's personal office contained anything of worth beyond his ledgers and the receipt for the artificial oysters packed in water makes her chuckle turn into laughter, I'll bet these two yahoos will think that the blacklists he keeps on patrons are probably some kind of personnel files from the office and that the Chelaxian oregano he keeps in that locker are drugs. Everybody knows that this was Dicky's little side project with no connections to SWAT proper, but these two apparently didn't get the memo. Oh well, this should teach Serpico a good lesson. As she waits for the rest of the fuzz to arrive, she finds a comfortable spot outside the fire and starts casting a scry to watch the events unfold, and more importantly, see where the two nitwits disappear to. Outside my jurisdiction - unless they murder somebody I'm not chasing them down. Besides, the information might be good to hold over Dicky and his stupid mom jokes.
"Slinky dress? I wear my combat fatigues just like you do. Just because I like the look of these shoes does not mean I can't run just as fast. Just because I spend more time with dead bodies and crime scenes than shooting my gun doesn't make my attire any less appropriate. Besides, is that a dead beaver on your head? He did get shot up pretty bad, but man, that's just COLD."
Rikki Gunderson wrote:
We took 56 minutes to get through the briefing because nobody can keep Dicky on task. I swear he'd lose his head if it weren't attached. But in this case we succeeded in spite of being labeled a group of loud, overzealous murder-hobos and were warned of our pending failure by the scenario author himself. If that's not proof you can't beat anything in spite of labels, I don't know what is.
Ri'chard raises an eyebrow at the commentary before looking at the plaque on the wall labeled "The Fallen". Man, I don't think you have a clue what bar you just stumbled into, do you? You talk free legal advice, and shaking people down. You know if it weren't for us, you'd likely be out a job, you bottom feeding weasel. She looks at Dicky, You want, I can certainly misfile the morgue paperwork on a certain Tengu and I'm sure it would be most unfortunate if the scene itself were 'appropriately' compromised.
Dicky's eyes lock with Ri'chards as his statement acknowledges acceptance of the Mindlink. He gets the equivalent of a ten minute download of the images, emotions, and relevant information with an up-close-and-personal viewing of a double murder crime scene. Blood is everywhere, and it's clear that the perp cut out the heart of his victims, which is shown in several up-close images. Even the smells of the scene assault Dicky's nose as he watches everything fly though his mind. Thoughts? Richard says casually as she eats a few beer nuts.
Well, found a body down in the puddles yesterday all burned and soupy. Swear the bloated mess looked like Torch, he was even swimmin' in the pool like you'd expect him to. When CSI arrived, he almost exploded from the gasses built up inside. Ri'chard shoves a pickled egg in her mouth. Turns out, it's a nothing but your typical problem of poor diet, fire sorcery, and a little jealousy thrown in for good measure. I swear you guys on the beat have it easy. |
