Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-5543592-20190326124223/@comment-24510587-20190326183236

Behind the Harriot, the trademark click of a cocking rifle sounded. A man in his early thirties with a long brown beard had arrived on the scene. The lower half of his body was covered in pistons and metal rods - some kind of powered exoskeleton, for sure. He held a hunting shotgun in his hands, pointed at the bloke in the suit.

"You're on private property," he grunted. "You've got about five seconds to start explaining what the hell you're doing here."