The hunched Leetus snickers at Luis' question and nods his misshapen pimpled head and replies, "Oh yeah, thems good eating." His tongue actually comes out to lick his wormy lips in Pavlovian hunger.

Even Shortstick scowls with slight disgust, and cutting his companion off says, "I'd be careful mate. Dem ryders feast on the trash and runoff of the underhive. Eating too many of dem might turn yous into a twist, or might straight drop you." Changing his tone, Georgy then adds, "Well anyways, if yous is ready, we's best be on our way. Best not to keep the big boss waiting." He then turns back to Leetus and says something quickly in a thick Hive-cant, not understood by a speaker of just Low Gothic.

(OOC: If anyone has the advanced skill Speak Hive Dialect, speak up and I'll translate for you. Otherwise, you can make a Speak Low Gothic roll at -20 to try to understand)

The group gathers and departs Url's hab. Georgy and Leetus lead the acolytes out of the hex, down winding corridors and tunnels that become increasingly circuitous, grimier, and less well maintained. The temperature also continues to drop, till thick clouds of white smoke come out of your mouths with each breath. Georgy and Leetus blather on and on, and banter back and forth during the journey, which overall takes about thirty minutes on foot.

Eventually the acolytes exit out of a tunnel and into what appears to be a large and foul smelling junkyard. Metal pipes jut out of the ground between piles of scrap, burping out plumes of sulfurous yellow smoke. The dirty ground sparkles with shattered glass where it pokes out between heaps of trash. Erected in the middle of the yard is a large shanty structure, seemingly cobbled together from scrap and spit. The large wooden doors are guarded by a pair of older looking gangers, also dressed in red and purple, each holding a beat up looking stub rifle. A tattered banner hangs above entrance, depicting three poorly drawn ryders in the colors of red and purple.

The first guard, a punk with a greasy spiked mohawk and a toothy grin steps up to Georgy and asks, "These the Guilders?" Georgy affirms that it is, and the ganger then points his rifle at the group of acolytes and insists, "Alright, hand over your weapons, before we let you in to see the boss."

(OOC: Please clearly state what weapons you hand over, and if you dare, those that you don't hand over)