RostroThe neon haze of Lisbon's gentrified waterfront pulses with AR ads and the thrum of Euro-pop, but the back room of La Sangre, a shadow bar tucked in the city's underbelly, is all business. You slip past the dwarf bartender, Tio, who nods you toward a velvet-curtained alcove where a tall, impossibly handsome elf awaits, his tailored Vashon Island suit gleaming under dim LED lights.
Silvano
Rostro flashes a dazzling smile, his voice smooth as silk but laced with a salesman's edge.
The faint hum of La Sangre's sound system vibrates the table as Carla slides a forged gala invite across, her eyes daring you to commit. Rostro adjusts his cufflinks with a practiced flourish, chuckling softly.
Silvano
RostroAlvarez, street name earned through his silver tongue and disarming charm, lounges with a glass of aged mezcal, his long dark hair framing emerald eyes that seem to peel back your secrets. A datajack glints at his temple, hinting at the knowsofts that bolster his already formidable persuasiveness. The fixer, a wiry human named Carla, has called you both for a job that demands finesse over firepower. Rostro’s reputation as a Faceman makes him the perfect partner—or a dangerous liability.
Rostro flashes a dazzling smile, his voice smooth as silk but laced with a salesman's edge.
Carla’s got high praise for you, ché. Let's see if you can keep up. This isn't a smash-and-grab; it's art.His confidence borders on arrogance, but his vast network and social savvy are why he's here. The job, Carla explains, is a social infiltration: crash a high-society gala hosted by Renraku's European branch in Prague, extract intel from a corp exec's commlink, and vanish before the champagne runs dry. Rostro’s enhanced pheromones and negotiation skills are tailor-made for charming the elite, but your unique talents—be they magical, technical, or otherwise—are critical to bypassing the gala's security.
The faint hum of La Sangre's sound system vibrates the table as Carla slides a forged gala invite across, her eyes daring you to commit. Rostro adjusts his cufflinks with a practiced flourish, chuckling softly.
Stick with me, and we’ll own that room. Cross me, and… well, let's not ruin a perfectly good evening.The sprawl outside buzzes with drones and danger, a reminder that in this dystopia, trust is a luxury. You've got a shot to prove yourself to this suave elf, secure a hefty payday, and maybe earn a favor from his sprawling network. But the gala's a viper's nest of corp intrigue, and Rostro's smooth talk won't save you if you fumble. The choice is yours: dance to his tune or risk being outplayed in the shadows.
1939
