Gran Cienaga
26-12-2004, 07:25
(OOC: This is a preview of an RP to come. Please tell me if it sounds interesting, what I need to change or any other suggestions. I’ll give a brief summary: James O’Hara, sheriff of Avalon County, arrested President Driscoll earlier in the day and transferred him to a police station in the small town of Dwight’s Corridor.
This scene explains why O’Hara arrested him in the first place. I know its short on descriptions but this is just a test run to see if the story has potential or not.)
Dwight’s Corridor, Gran Cienaga. Interrogation room of a police station.
December 24, 6:39 PM
“Why am I here?” Driscoll couldn’t help but ask the question.
“Why do you think you’re here?” O’Hara shot back
“Fine, so I have a slight gambling problem.” The disgraced president stated this bitterly as he put his hand behind his head and leaned back in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair, one of the sole furnishings of the interrogation room.
“And that little womanizing problem, can’t forget that one” quipped O’Hara, sheriff of Avalon County. Seated directly across from Driscoll, he stared intently at him, saying nothing. His stern gaze said everything about his state of mind now.
“OK, there’s that, too. But that’s no reason to arrest me and you know that, O’Hara. You know that!”
“We haven’t arrested people on morality charges in this country for three generations. And you know that. You’re not here because you’re an immoral little son-of-a-bitch, which you are if I might add. You’re here because you broke your own laws more times that I can count.”
“My God! Give a Southron some power and he thinks he’s the president!”
At this point, O’Hara got that smug little smile he’s known to get when he’s irritated. “My God! Elect a rich playboy into office and he swears he’s God!” he shot back sarcastically.
“Maybe your little friends up in the better neighborhoods of the country dealt with your bullshit. Guess what? They’re not even a quarter of the population! Meanwhile, the middle and working class people of the country got tired of you and your power grabs as president. Did you think no one would notice if you started making laws by decree? That’s why we have a Congress. Or did you think we wouldn’t mind you taking our tax money to bribe the tabloids not to publish any information about your mistresses? We did? This isn’t about enforcing morality, something you obviously lack. This is about playing by the rules of the game. You didn’t, that’s why you’re here.” Shouting this last line, O’Hara threw his clipboard squarely at Driscoll’s chest before storming out the room.
This scene explains why O’Hara arrested him in the first place. I know its short on descriptions but this is just a test run to see if the story has potential or not.)
Dwight’s Corridor, Gran Cienaga. Interrogation room of a police station.
December 24, 6:39 PM
“Why am I here?” Driscoll couldn’t help but ask the question.
“Why do you think you’re here?” O’Hara shot back
“Fine, so I have a slight gambling problem.” The disgraced president stated this bitterly as he put his hand behind his head and leaned back in the rather uncomfortable wooden chair, one of the sole furnishings of the interrogation room.
“And that little womanizing problem, can’t forget that one” quipped O’Hara, sheriff of Avalon County. Seated directly across from Driscoll, he stared intently at him, saying nothing. His stern gaze said everything about his state of mind now.
“OK, there’s that, too. But that’s no reason to arrest me and you know that, O’Hara. You know that!”
“We haven’t arrested people on morality charges in this country for three generations. And you know that. You’re not here because you’re an immoral little son-of-a-bitch, which you are if I might add. You’re here because you broke your own laws more times that I can count.”
“My God! Give a Southron some power and he thinks he’s the president!”
At this point, O’Hara got that smug little smile he’s known to get when he’s irritated. “My God! Elect a rich playboy into office and he swears he’s God!” he shot back sarcastically.
“Maybe your little friends up in the better neighborhoods of the country dealt with your bullshit. Guess what? They’re not even a quarter of the population! Meanwhile, the middle and working class people of the country got tired of you and your power grabs as president. Did you think no one would notice if you started making laws by decree? That’s why we have a Congress. Or did you think we wouldn’t mind you taking our tax money to bribe the tabloids not to publish any information about your mistresses? We did? This isn’t about enforcing morality, something you obviously lack. This is about playing by the rules of the game. You didn’t, that’s why you’re here.” Shouting this last line, O’Hara threw his clipboard squarely at Driscoll’s chest before storming out the room.