Hoi Chummers,

Seattle. Smack dab in the middle of a bunch of almost warring states, a last bastion of United Canadian American States power on the West Coast. Site of a volcano eruption, race riots, terrorist plots, and too damn near those plotting Elves down South in the Tir for anyone to feel safe. Self proclaimed capital of Shadowrunning, home to enough political and social intrigue to drown a dragon. Or maybe just enough for them to fit in without being noticed.

All in all, it’s a drek-show.

And that’s where our heroes have chosen to set up camp and try to eek out a living as Shadowrunners, deniable assets, mercenaries of the more discrete kind. That should tell you just how smart these fraggers are.

As the Runner saying goes; the last easy day was before you were born, and they’ve certainly been proving the old adage true, running into problem after problem, body after body, bullet after bullet. Splitting their time pretty equally between shopping for furniture, and unloading a clip from an Ingram Smartgun into some poor sod’s chest.

Mistakes have been made. Casualties have been taken. Friends lost and won. But they haven’t stopped running, haven’t stopped trying to ride the bleeding edge, even though they’ve been cut a few times.

Welcome to the Shadows, Chummers.

Don’t get caught in the light.