A Skyrate’s Life, Part 4: Th’eejits abound

Man, the Snipping Tool compressor really doesn't like reds...

A Skyrate’s Life is a self-indulgent series of posts reminiscing about my time in the Skyrates roleplaying community, primarily through posting and talking about my remaining RP channel logs.

After the excitement, adventure and really wild things of the last entry, it seems like we’re back to normal today (normal being a relative term of course). We’re back to conversation rather than shooting – although the main topic of conversation is the shooting, naturally. We also see the return of Zekkass, who I pounce upon as if she’s the only sane person in the vicinity (likely true) and the introduction of Josiah, who shoots me.

I think I want to title every post in this series with a Mahmoth quote from now on.

New Characters:

  • Clio: Female cat, newcomer to the R&P. Who’s playing Clio?
  • Josiah: Male giraffe, Green faction. At this stage he’s just out of Flight School, and this looks like his first time here.
  • Phedre Spitfire: Female arctic fox. Now here’s a confusing one. DP has an entry for “Phédre Spitfire”, and her Skybrary article notes that she has acquired some infamy due to the acts of her sister who assumed her identity. Phédre was an important member of Red faction. Who was THIS Phedre though? Fortunately, the ACTUAL Phedre turned up in Skyrates, so I asked her about it. Turns out that Phedre was killed off before the end of the round, her player unaware that RP is persistent and continues after the end of the round. A very similar looking sister was thus created to replace her.
  • Alexandra Borisov: Female fox? While she has no DP entry of her own, she is listed as one of Knappekat’s past crewmembers. It seems reasonable that she’s an alt of Knappekat, doesn’t it? Unfortunately, “Alexandra Borisov” is one of the randomly assembled crew names that the game gives out, so anyone could have found a crewmember with that name and decided they liked it. Update: Phedre Spitfire confirms that she’s an alt of Knappe, and that she’s a fox. Thanks, Phedre!
  • Athrawes: No entry in DP. I can determine that he’s male from his emotes, but nothing else.
  • HK-47: Sigh…

Notes:

  • Okay, so it turns out that Ennia being shot the previous day wasn’t the ONLY excitement. It seems like someone (Silura, apparently) tried to shoot Ellington inside the bar earlier. Busy day! I seem to have been physically present for this event because I describe it later on, but for some unknown reason I didn’t log any of it.
  • Mahmoth called me ‘Webling’! This pleased me.
  • Somewhere before the start of this, Markus changes the dressing on his injury (sustained in the previous evening’s violence). This is what causes Clio to pass out. He apparently dozes off for a while after this.
  • We finally find out just what it is that Markus has been working on for the past few entries! We also discover that Phedre has had some prior association with Ennia’s would-be assassin – according to Mah “th’bugger tried t’rip th’tavern an age’r so ago’n took th’Phe.”
  • This entry had a little bit of strangeness and some outright trolling. I’ve abused my editorial privilege and stripped the trolling out completely – it wasn’t even interesting. Mistakes are left in, even my own. Especially my own! The strangeness? That, I left in. We’re not even getting started, yet…
  • This log itself is in excess of nine thousand words long, number fans. It took bloody ages to put the formatting in, line by line – hence the delay in getting this entry up.

Today’s chat log is past the cut below! For previous entries in this series, direct your Internet conveyances here.

RP 18/07/08 – 0300

[Int. Rotor and Prop]

{Static}
Cecil Lancaster: What can I say?
Clio: are you ok. where did you get that wound from! looks painful
Burrito Loco: What I’m going to say is that it’s never going to help, you’ll never feel better and you’ll never forget any faster
Josiah: That does look worrying, amongst other things.
*Clio starts to feel a bit dizzy from looking at the blood ‘did you put anything in that water mahmo….’ Clio then passes out due to the site of blood
Cecil Lancaster: ‘S probably true.
Josiah: … well, not -that- worrying!
Burrito Loco: From personal experience I can tell that it is
*Clio crashes to the ground brining her glass of water down with her causing it to smash on the floor
*Burrito Loco jerks up
*Mahmoth leans his head over the bar to peer at the collapsed Clio. “Hmn.” He reaches over, carefully wrapping his trunk around the prone figure and lifting her over onto the nearest couch.
Burrito Loco: what the-
*Cecil Lancaster spins around to see what’s going on.
*Josiah pushes his chair back, wooden legs scraping along the floor as he gets up, canteen in hand. He walks over to Clio, tips some water into his hand, sprinkling it gently on the girl’s face.
*Clio starts to regain consciousness, the room still spinning ‘oh my head’
*Burrito Loco looks up to see Markus changing his binding
Burrito Loco: I told you to get that checked out
*Burrito Loco turns toward Clio
Burrito Loco: Not a huge fan of blood?
*Phedre Spitfire walks into the tavern and moves behind the bar to make a stiff drink.
*Clio shakes her head
*Cecil Lancaster quietly goes back to his glass, though not before corking the bottle.
*Mahmoth nods to Phe as she wanders past him.
Clio: just let me lay here for a bit. i should be ok in a mo
*Josiah nods curtly, and then goes back to his own seat, only to return a short moment later with his trade logs, pulling up a chair close to the couch.
*Phedre Spitfire stops before making her drink and hugs mah’s trunk to herself, holding him tight for a moment.
*Alex Webster enters the bar. The fox gives a nod, smile or wave to the people he knows and notices before going to lean on the bar.
*Mahmoth eyes Phe a moment, but then squeezes her with the encurling trunk.
*Phedre Spitfire smiles and holds on a bit longer before resuming her search for a drink.
*Clio tries to sit up strait with the room not spinning as much ‘I think I need a new drink. Not to sure what happened to my last one’
*Mahmoth looks lightly and momentarily concerned, but then turns to the Bar and Alex. “Evenin’ Webling. What’ll y’have?”
*Mahmoth waits for an answer while turning back to the tap, filling another glass and passing it across to Clio.
*Alex Webster smiles with genuine pleasure as Mah refers to him by name. “Evening, Mah. Let’s have a Midgard lager please.”
Josiah: Good plan. A good spirit is as good a substitute for bravery as far as I know.
*Phedre Spitfire pulls down a bottle of her old friend, soldier and pours herself a generous glass of the red liquid.
*Clio gets up and staggers to the bar to get a drink of water
Cecil Lancaster: You alright, Phedre?
*Mahmoth nods, pulls down the coreborn brownstuff, pours off a pint of it.
*Phedre Spitfire smiles sweet and nods while she sips her drink.
Alex Webster: Cheers. So, uh, I know about the Ellington fight in here yesterday, but what’s with the new bloodstains outside? They weren’t here when I left yesterday…
*Clio finally gets to the bar and takes a seat next to Alex. ‘Hey Mahmoth, can I get another water please?’
Burrito Loco: Someone got shot
Burrito Loco: It’s all taken care of
Josiah: Might want to ask the one with the bandage. *gestures with his pen towards Markus* I’ve not the first clue.
*Mahmoth passes across the glass he’d filled from the tap earlier
*Phedre Spitfire looks up, “What? Who got shot, and who shot them?”
Clio: ((is that the same glass that got smashed when I fainted?))
Mahmoth: ((New glass))
Burrito Loco: Ennia, and damned if I know
Clio: Thanks mahmoth
*Mahmoth sighs at the report of yet another shooting, settles back on the boards.
Phedre Spitfire: Is she okay
Alex Webster: Bloody hell. Bad enough with that vixen trying to blow holes in that Ellington bloke yesterday. She okay? Do you know who did it?
*Alexandra Borisov strolls into the tavern, and stalks determinedly to the bar, where she sits.
*Josiah looks somewhat unnerved by all the talk of shooting, biting his lower lip and twirling his pen absently.
*Clio overhears alex talk about a shooting ‘what that about a shooting?’
Burrito Loco: Not really okay
Mahmoth: Ech, plentyhood’f eejits, hereabouts. Ever one’r th’other pulling’n blasting.
Burrito Loco: But don’t tell Lars, I told him she’d be fine
*Phedre Spitfire sighs, “Can she have vistors at the hospital? Or is it that bad?”
Burrito Loco: I doubt it right now
Burrito Loco: Honestly, I give her abour one in three
Alex Webster: Damn. What about the attacker?
*Phedre Spitfire looks down at her drink and considers the reason for getting and the current situation and proceeds to gulp down the whole thing in two swallows, followed by a rather funny looking face and a fit of coughing.
*Mahmoth sighs again and slumps somewhat.
Burrito Loco: Gone.
Burrito Loco: He was professional
Burrito Loco: just got interrupted by Markus
Phedre Spitfire: Do we have a discription?
Alex Webster: Damn, again. Anyone who can escape with you and Markus around would have to be pretty good.
Alexandra Borisov: Idiots indeed, eh, Herr Elefant? If you would, a cup of coffee?
Burrito Loco: I never got a good look, and he had a trenchcoat which didn’t help
*Clio look at alex and waits for a reply ‘hmm..’
*Phedre Spitfire frowns at the trenchcoat part thinking og Tethran.
Alex Webster: Hm? Sorry, miss, didn’t realise you were talking to me. Heh, what was the question?
*Mahmoth nods, reaches over lazily and scoops another cup of coffee from the maker, setting it down on the bar rather heavily.
Josiah: And this… Ennia, is that her name?
Clio: You were talking about an attack. When was this? It don’t sound to safe around here
Josiah: Would you have any idea of who would stand to benefit from her death?
*Phedre Spitfire moves aways from behind the bar, and falls onto a stool as the drink really starts to take effect.
Burrito Loco: She had a run in with an ex awhile back I guess
Alexandra Borisov: Ach, t’sank you. *lifting her mug in salute* To all z’idiocy, friends. *she grins sardonically.*
Burrito Loco: And you’re perfectly safe, Clio
Alex Webster: Heh, well, it’s usually fine round here. Occasionally there’s some trouble. Sounds like it was worse than usual yesterday. First, guy named Ellington – the radio guy – comes into the bar. Him and Mairi – she’s one of the people that more or less run this place – rubbed each other up the wrong way. Then, a vixen – don’t know her personally – pulls her sidearm from the locker, starts trying to end Ellington rather permanently. Markus and Mah here managed to stop here, and not before time too.
Alex Webster: There was some throwing of bottles and trying to set fire to the place mixed in there somewhere as well.
Alex Webster: ((also note – stop her, not stop here. Because that would make no sense.))
Clio: oh my, is it like this here all the time?
*Cecil Lancaster gets up and walks behind the bar, helping Phedre to her feet.
Alex Webster: Mostly, there’s very little trouble. Heh, least not while Mah is awake.
Mahmoth: Infrequency, fortunate…
Josiah: It’s as he said, if we take his word for it.
Clio: well i now know only to come here when mahmoth is here.
Burrito Loco: Most of us are level headed enough
Alex Webster: Heh, Markus and Burrito also tend to have a peacekeeping effect on the place.
*Mahmoth rumbles a low snigger. “Ach, place’s nae bad’s such, so seen. Best t’be elsewhere when th’eejits abound, though.”
*Burrito Loco notes Phedre and mentally prepares to haul her off when she can no longer walk
*Clio stops suddenly ‘oh I’m sorry I didn’t even tell you my name. I’m Clio I’m new around here, I just arrived here today’
Alex Webster: Heh, well I failed to tell you mine either, so I guess we both failed. Alex. Welcome to the RnP.
Clio: Thanks Alex
*Burrito Loco waves his hand, “Burrito Loco here!”
Josiah: A shame to hear of all this, nonetheless. One skyrate’s passion ending in another’s injury, I mean.
*Phedre Spitfire gets up with help and rights herself, “Thank you… it just hit me all at once…. I wasn’t expecting it.
Alex Webster: Seems to me that it’s more idiocy than passion, more often than not. Heh, I don’t kill people in heated arguments. Doesn’t mean I don’t believe in anything.
Cecil Lancaster: Well, you *drank* it all at once.
Josiah: Oh, are we doing introductions? I am Josiah.
Cecil Lancaster: So I guess it’s not all that surprising.
*Alexandra Borisov sips her coffee and casts a level gaze from person to person.
Alex Webster: Josiah, was just about to ask, actually. Alex. If I’m awake and not flying, generally here, heh. New here too?
Clio: Hello Josiah
Josiah: Logic does seem to be harder to grasp when one does their thinking with their heart.
Alex Webster: ((can I requisition a species check on Josiah and Clio, please?))
Josiah: And that I am, hello to you both. *He lifts his trade log up, as if to gesture to it.* As though the sheen on this thing has not indicated my status as a novice.
Josiah: ((Male giraffe))
Clio: ((femail cat))
Alex Webster: You two recently out of flight school?
Phedre Spitfire: You drink an entire pint of soldier in two gulps and then tell me you aren’t surpirsed when it hits you, not matter if you’re expecting it or not, they actual experience will always be surprising.
Clio: oh thank you josiah for earlier
*Clio hugs josiah
Phedre Spitfire: ((btw she’s slurring a bit but I hate typing drunk talk, so just imagine the slurring of someone on the edge of tipsy and drunk.))
Josiah: So recent as to be still smelling like silverfish and textboo- oof!
Alex Webster: Heh.
Clio: sorry alex, nah im stuck in the middle of a crisis
*Josiah glances down at the cat, arms lifted in the air.
*Cecil Lancaster snerks. “I suppose you have a point. So…. what prompted that?”
Alex Webster: Not long out of flight school myself, truth be told. What’s the crisis, Clio?
Phedre Spitfire: Some good news mixed with some bad.
Clio: Well my farther wants me to become a trader to follow in his footsteps but I cant see me doing that. I want to see the world
*Moros turns around.
Cecil Lancaster: That’s rather cryptic.
Moros: He’s got a point, young’un. You want a little money in your pocket.
Alex Webster: Yeah, I know that feeling. The people here told me this when I first arrived, so it’s fair that I should pass it on. At the end of the day, you’ve gotta do what you want.
Phedre Spitfire: Yes it is, Cecil. I got a letter today from New Hovlund, they want me to open up my restaurant again, something about th eboost it had for the economy.
Alex Webster: Yeah, the money’s good from trading. But I didn’t train to be a pilot so I could make my fortune. Some people do, and that’s fine by me. Just not why I did it, really.
Clio: yeah thats what mahmoth and Markus said to me, but i dont want to let him down
Alex Webster: Course, as long as you’ve got the freedom to pick your own routes, you can always haul some cargo while you explore. Might be a worthwhile compromise.
*Cecil Lancaster raises his eyebrows. “You had a restaurant?”
*Markus Jarnhann glances back up from his table, having dozed off, in what’s probably the first bit of sleep he’s had since yesterday. He shrugs slightly, and glances around, trying to gauge how long he’d been out. “…Ehm…”
Josiah: We’ve all our reasons for our trades, whatever they may be.
Clio: but i would fell like im missing out on things
Moros: You could always go see the fella in the tavern. The stripey guy, he’s always looking for ablebodied pilots
Moros: and I think you’d fit the bill
*Phedre Spitfire smiles, “Yes, I did. I made the calls today to see if my chefs were still up for it, and they are, so we’re re-openning in a few weeks.
*Clio starts to get a tear down her face as she thinks about her farther
Markus Jarnhann: Meh… ’twill be fine, lass. I wouldnae worry. No sense in cryin’… ::He shrugs with his left arm::
Cecil Lancaster: Wow.
Alex Webster: Hm. Sky’s not always a safe place. If you’re going out there – especially a long way out, as you’d do with trading or exploring – you gotta do it for the reasons you love. Not worth the risk otherwise. At the end of the day, make your own choice. And, uh, if that choice is that you don’t want to hurt your parents, so be it. Just make it yours.
Cecil Lancaster: I’ll have to go to that.
Cecil Lancaster: Maybe Amarra would like to go…
Phedre Spitfire: it’s a couples restuarant, so let’s hope so
Alex Webster: Um… hope I’m making sense here, heh. I sometimes babble a bit…
Josiah: You needn’t worry, there isn’t a single hiss of static in your wo- Clio?
*Josiah glances over to the cat, concerned.
*Phedre Spitfire gets up and goes over to Markus’ table and plops down next to him.
Clio: thanks everyone. this is my first day here but it feels like I’v known you all for a long time
Cecil Lancaster: Oh?
*Cecil Lancaster suddenly realizes that Phedre walked away and awkwardly returns to what’s left of his glass.
Alex Webster: Heh. Most of us have made a decision like that at some point. We know what it’s like.
Josiah: Perhaps it is not my place to say, being new to the Rotor and Prop. But I believe the sentiment is that we are amongst friends here.
*Markus Jarnhann nods to Phe, as he cracks his neck. “…’Ow are ye?”
Phedre Spitfire: I’m okay. How are you?
*Alexandra Borisov arises and strolls to the piano, nodding absently to anyone she happens to pass near. She sits, and opens the keyboard cover, and stretches her paws over the ivory and ebony keys.
Markus Jarnhann: Heh… ‘ve been bette’. In t’las’ 48 ‘ours I’ve ‘ad tae break up a barfigh’ ‘twix’ one o’ me bes’ frien’s an’ anothe’ patron o’er anothe’ one o’ me bes frien’s, I watche’ Ennia ge’ sho’… ‘ad a gun battle wit’ tae shooter, pro’lly sho”im, as ‘e sho’ me… been up all nigh’, an’ ‘avenae slep’ ’til… whene’er ’twere I dozed off.
Phedre Spitfire: Did you get a good look at the guy?
Alex Webster: (To Josiah, with a smile) Can’t argue with that, heh. Yeah, most of the people here have their heads screwed on the right way.
Markus Jarnhann: Remin’ me tha’ I shouldnae take vacations, if this ‘s an ‘zample o’ ‘ow they go down. ::He shrugs.:: No’ really, bu’ I’ve go’ ‘is jacke’. I inten’ tae ask a few questions once me arm is feelin’ up tae i’.
Markus Jarnhann: ‘Twere a boar, though, an’ he were curst goo’.
*Josiah leans in a little closer to Alex, holding a hand near the side of his mouth conspiratorially. “If a little eager to pull a gun on each other”, he whispers.
*Phedre Spitfire looks at Markus with wide eyes, filled with something most people never see from her, fear. “What? A boar?”
Markus Jarnhann: Yeh, ’twere abor. Why?
Markus Jarnhann: ((’twere a boar. Meh.))
Alex Webster: Heh. Having said that, a lot of military officers frequent this place, and they don’t tend to pull out firearms except to defend someone else. ‘s only really a minority of nutcases that cause problems.
*Trichechus walks in, sweating from the heat of a long flight in his Bolo
Trichechus: I thought weapons weren’t allowed in here…
*Burrito Loco sits, quietly observing everyone and vaguely missing his jacket
Alex Webster: Tell that to the bullet holes, Trichechus.
*Phedre Spitfire regains some control of herself and manages to surpress the fear, “I…this is going to sound weird… can I smell that jacket? And can you let Mah smell it too?”
*Trichechus makes a cup of tea and sits at the edge of the bar, his usual seat.
*Clio smiles at what alex just said
*Markus Jarnhann considers this for a moment. “…I’ll ‘ave tae ge’ i’ from me room. I ‘ave ‘is pistol in me pocke’, though.” :: He pulls Larkos’s 1911 from his pocket, and sets it down, empty as it was when he found it.:: “Back in a sec’…” ::He rises to his feet, and makes his way to the stairwell.::
*Phedre Spitfire holds the gun in her paw, which begins to tremble.
Josiah: I’ve no love for these firearms… though it looks more and more to me that investing in one would be wisest.
Mahmoth: Blades’re ‘llowed, most part, but y’shoot somebugger in here, an’ y’lose th’use’f th’arm fired’t/
*Alexandra Borisov begins moving her fingers over the keys, then softly sounding notes. A slow, somber tune emerges and she begins to sing:
Alexandra Borisov: o/` Ain’t found a way to kill me yet/ Eyes burn with stinging sweat/ seems every path leads me to nowhere/ wife and kids and household pet./ Armada red was no safe bet/ the bullets scream to me from somewhere… o/`
Alexandra Borisov: o/` Here they come to snuff the rooster/ yeah, here come the rooster/ you know he ain’t gonna die. o/`
Alex Webster: I keep a sidearm in my ship, just incase the pirates manage to ground me. Don’t carry it around though.
Trichechus: I just keep an old bolt action rifle tucked right into the side of the cockpit.
Trichechus: ((is the pistol a Colt 1911? it’s on wikipedia.))
Josiah: Only weapon I have is this. *He holds his pen up with a sheepish grin.*
*Alexandra Borisov trails off rather abruptly, closes the cover, and walks quickly to a corner barstool where she sits, sipping her coffee.
*Clio starts to yawn ‘i think im going to call it a night’
Josiah: I dare say it’s been trusty.
Alex Webster: Heh. Well, don’t point it at me.
Clio: thanks for all you help everyone, i think i know what im going to do
*Josiah ‘aims’ it at Alex, and makes a ‘ratatat’ noise.
Alex Webster: Glad we could help out. Night, clio. Hope to see you again sooaaaaargh!
Josiah: You find what it is you seek, lass. Make good your fortunes!
*Alex Webster falls off the stool, clutching at his side as Josiah ‘shoots’ him with the pen…
Burrito Loco: ((yeah, model 1911A1 I’d wager))
*Josiah chuckles at Alex’s reaction, clutching his sides.
*Clio heads upstairs to her room for the night
*Alex Webster climbs back on his stool, also laughing.
Josiah: For all of this mirth has me wanting to stay, I believe I should mimic Clio and get some rest.
*Athrawes enters the tavern quietly, removing his hood and checking his pistol as he looks around the room.
Alex Webster: Eeeeh… Seriously though, if you’re going to get yourself a firearm, head back to the school and fire a few rounds down a range. Then hope you never need to do it for real…
Alex Webster: Anyway, good to meet you, Josiah. You should drop in again when you’re back over this way.
Josiah: Sound advice for when I return to Echo.
Josiah: That I guarantee, Alex. *He stands up, and then pats Alex on the shoulder.* And thank you for the company.
Alex Webster: Heh. Talk to you soon, friend.
*Josiah wastes no time in picking up his things, ascending to the upper floor, careful to not bump his head on any low ceilings.
Cecil Lancaster: ((Gotta go. Cya in a few.))
*Alexandra Borisov glances up slightly at the departures and entrances but pays them no mind, huddling over her mug.
Alexandra Borisov: ((ta, Cecil))
*Mahmoth looks over, nods to the entering Athrawes. “Evenin’ Athling. What’s it t’be?”
*Markus Jarnhann slides back down the stairs, carrying the jacket in question. He makes his way back to his table, and sets it down in front of Phe.
*Athrawes tosses a salute towards Mah. “Cider would be great Mah, thanks.”
*Mahmoth nods again, flips down a bottle of Arcadian, filling a quick glass and sliding it across.
HK-47: ((Hey Mah, how strong is your trunk?))
*Athrawes picks the cider up and sits down at the bar. “Excellent.” He takes a sip, then looks around the room once more.
Athrawes: ((Very ))
The Bartender: ((can i shoot someone?))
HK-47: ((Can it bend steel?))
Mahmoth: ((Uprooting of decent-sized trees, crushing of tables, lifting of more or less anyone in the bar, that range of thing. I’ve no real measure of its strength, other than whatever seems appropriate.))
Athrawes: ((You cna start a shootout with me, but will probably end up dead between Mah and Markus and Myself))
*Alex Webster I’m reasonably certain we don’t have assassin droids in this continuity…
*Phedre Spitfire puts down the gun and picks up the jacket. She inhales deeply and shudders as the memory of his smell comes flooding back to her. She stands up and takes it to Mah, “Can you smell this and tell me if you’ve smelled this guy before?
Mahmoth: ((Depends on the thickness of steel.))
Alex Webster: ((damn it OOC not /me. I failed.))
Nero Shade: ((and if there is a shootout, Nero Sr. will show up, shoot you with his water gun and then give you chea jewelry.))
*Markus Jarnhann slides the pistol back into his pocket, he shrugs and watches Phe.
HK-47: ((Alex: You do have brain washed furs, though. :D))
Mahmoth: ((I’m not sure Mah has ever seen Rath or Larkos, Phe.))
*Mahmoth rolls off a shrug, curls his trunk over and takes a good long draught of the pistol, cocking his head to think.
Phedre Spitfire: ((it’s the jacket she brought.))
The Bartender: ((noody has seen him))
Markus Jarnhann: ((he’s been used previously.))
The Bartender: ((but not to shoot someone))
HK-47: ((I has! Me alt, at least. Didn’t get a name, though.))
Mahmoth: Horm. Certain hints’f familiarity, but little’f true knowledge’r recency, so seen’r sensed.
Mahmoth: ((Retcon to jacket, then.))
Phedre Spitfire: ((Bartender…… I know what i’m taking about :P))
The Bartender: ((i really want to shoot someone… when BL’s here))
*Phedre Spitfire nods and movves back to Markus. “I know this man, I’ll never forget his sent. His name is Larkos. “
Mahmoth: ((So you want to get yourself killed?))
Alex Webster: ((Bartender… yooou’l be dead!))
Markus Jarnhann: ((yeah, it’d be a bad call, Bartender.))
Athrawes: ((Thats why hes an alt.))
*Markus Jarnhann nods slightly. “…T’bugge’ was curst goo’. I’ll ‘ave tae bushwhack ‘im, when I go afte’ ‘im.”
Phedre Spitfire: ((bartender can shoot at phe if he thinks of a good enough reason, but she’ll kill him if he does, just warning you.))
Phedre Spitfire: Let me come?
The Bartender: ((not if he’s outside and shooting randomly))
Phedre Spitfire: ((no she will kill him for shooting regardless of the reason.))
The Bartender: ((ill wait for BL))
Phedre Spitfire: ((k ))
Markus Jarnhann: Mmm, per’aps. I nee’ tae develop some info’mation on ‘im.
*Athrawes turns and faces Markus and Phe, listening quietly.
Phedre Spitfire: I would hate to have to rush to kill him before you. I have to watch him die.
HK-47: ((*is shootable :D*))
*Markus Jarnhann shrugs. “We’ll see Phe. I’ll keep ye ‘pprise’.
*Phedre Spitfire nods.
Trichechus: Is shooting him back really going to help Ennia? We should really be thinking about her.
*Mairi comes downstairs looking for the most part back to her normal self
*Phedre Spitfire hands him back the jacket and leaves the bar, headed to her mechanic’s to have a ‘chat’ with her.
Mahmoth: Seeming’s th’thing’s more’n just th’Ennling.
*Mairi watches Phedre leave as she heads to the bar
Mairi: what’s going on?
Trichechus: Hmph…many think that shooting Larcos, who shot Ennia, will make everything better again
Athrawes: Make it better, perhaps not, but how does it hurt? Ennia is in the care of the doctors, what would you have us do?”
Alex Webster: (Interjecting) Uh… not that my opinion counts for much, but… You think it’s a good idea to let some… assassin… wander around shooting other people who don’t deserve it?
Mairi: Larcos? Wait, we found out who shot Enny?
*Mahmoth shifts a brow. “Th’bugger’s Larkos. Ach, much elucided, seeming. Larkos’ seeming’s’f th’bugger tried t’rip th’tavern an age’r so ago’n took th’Phe.”
Phedre Spitfire: ((so glad, Phe isn’t there or she would want to stab Trich.))
Trichechus: ((did i fail?))
Athrawes: ((A little bit))
Mairi: wait.. HIM? Shot Ennia? What the {static} for??
Trichechus: Mairi, it’s just speculation, we don’t know what for.
Mahmoth: Unknown, ever. Buggery’f th’first sort, all of’t.
Trichechus: The important thing here is Ennia… ok?
*Mairi swears with some measure of eloquence and sits down on a bar stool, folding her arms and resting her chin on them
Mairi: Ennia is stable..
Trichechus: I heard.
Mahmoth: Survived’s good, certain.
Athrawes: Again, what would you have us do?
*Markus Jarnhann shrugs. “Dinnae know who ‘e ‘is.”
Alexandra Borisov: Pah! *she stands suddenly. A bit of coffee sloshes over the rim of her mug.* ‘unting z’ese sorts is no solution. Z’ere is always another, always more of z’at sort, no jus… *she snaps her jaw shut and stalks out of the tavern, tail fluffed and thrashing side to side*
Mahmoth: Keep y’nose up’n feet down, seeming. D’nae let’m approach th’place.
Trichechus: hmm… I got a rifle in me plane just in case.
Alex Webster: Uh… you think there’s a risk he’ll come back here to uh… finish the job?
*Markus Jarnhann shurgs. “…She does nae realize who an’ wha’ I am…”
Trichechus: knowing him… anything could happen.
Markus Jarnhann: An’ nae la’… No’ les’ ‘e bushwhacks ‘er ou’side… dinnae thin’ ‘e’ll take t’chance.
Alex Webster: Wish I understood what the hell was going on…
Mairi: depends what he wants her dead for
*HK-47 steps into the bar and looks around a bit, then walks to the center of the room and stands there, silently. Looking, for all the world, like some kind of creature that had been wrapped in metal, and perhaps that wasn’t all that inaccurate, considering the weld lines throughout his armor.
Trichechus: ((fail… robots?))
HK-47: ((Been over this enough times: Brain washed.))
Trichechus: ((can you attack someone and i get to shoot you?))
EL’SPONCHE: ((Can i join?))
*Alex Webster drains the rest of his lager, sets it back on the bar. He then turns to look in surprise and confusion at the newcomer.
Mairi: he’s been known to be…. determined
*Mairi frowns and sits up
Mairi: Mah, somethin’ to drink please?
*Mason Cypher struts into the bar.
Mahmoth: ‘Course. Y’preference?
Athrawes: ((Anyone can join, but try to make sure you understand the rules. Also, use /ooc to get the brackets.))
EL’SPONCHE: ((i read the gudie))
[Ed: Cut trolling]
Athrawes: ((Awesome. ))
Alex Webster: ((Hm. I sense strangeness…))
EL’SPONCHE goes into the tavern
HK-47: ((getting me to attack something won’t be easy, and having the bullet have any real effect will be even harder.))
HK-47: ((I sense trolls.))
Ennia: ((Welcome to the RP…strangeness is a given.))
Ennia: ((And trols.))
Ennia: ((Trolls rather))
Alex Webster: ((Ignore Mode Turn On.))
Trichechus: ((Is ceiling cat there? ban him plz!))
EL’SPONCHE: Can I have a lager?
Trichechus: ((are you still in a coma in the hospital Ennia?))
Mairi: something… mh. Not nalachi
*HK-47 walks up to the bar after a short moment “Query; Where is the one with the containers of fuel?”
Trichechus: ((Ennia. are you still in a coma in the hospital?))
Athrawes: ((Yes she is))
*Alex Webster raises his eyebrows to full mast at this statement
*Mason Cypher walks up to the bar next to Mairi, “Hey there beautiful. How’s life treating you?”
*Mahmoth eyes both newcomers, shrugs, and passes across a decent Steppen brew for the one, and then blinking vaguely at the other’s question. “Likely’s th’stuff’ll be in th’hangers, newling.”
*Trichechus perks up, immediatly cautious about this newcomer talking to the obviously hurt Mairi.
*HK-47 pauses for a moment to consider… “Statement: The one who carried various small containers, each with a different fuel.”
Mahmoth: Ah, suchlike. Y’preference?
*Alex Webster thinks that he should ease off the drink. Either that, or he was in for a straaange evening.
*Mairi shoots Mason a look reminescent of her earlier menace in answer
HK-47: Statement: This unit is in need of the fuel that maintains operating parameters.
Trichechus: Mason…. life’s not exatly perfect for her. Can I offer you a drink?
*Mason Cypher lifts up both hands, and whistles lowly, backing away. “oookkayyy. Sorry i asked.”
*Mairi smirks slightly and shrugs
Mairi: one of those days
Mairi: weeks
Mairi: lifetimes?
*Mairi shrugs
*Mason Cypher turns to Trichechus, “Have I ever met you? How do you know my name?”
Trichechus: ((a month ago i think))
*Mahmoth , while waiting for a response, pokes about the racks, picking out some light but tasty apple brandy, pouring out a generous measure and passing it to Mai
Trichechus: Yeah, we met in this tavern before.
*Mairi picks up her drink and takes a decently generous sip, leaning on one elbow on the bar
Mason Cypher: Oh sorry about that…. I’ve had a couple falls at works since then, most have forgotten.
Trichechus: So… wan’t a drink?
HK-47: Query: For what purpose do meatbags consume toxins like you do?
*Mahmoth considers the tinfoil man, narrows his eyes for a moment, but turns his trunk to the rack, picking down and pouring out a decent orange juice for it.
Trichechus: ((i am [] this close from shooting you))
HK-47: ((He can’t help it, it’s just how he was abused into thinking. :())
*HK-47 takes the orange juice and stares at it for a moment “Query; Would there be a…. straw for this unit to use?”
Mason Cypher: No thanks. I just came to give Mairi these. * he takes two tickets out of his vest and hands them to her* They’re good for anytime you want to come. Sorry you’re having a bad week.
*Mason Cypher looks a little dejected as he leaves.
*Alex Webster takes a look into his glass and wonders who the hell spiked his drink tonight.
*Trichechus ,once again realizing it was time for him to take off, begins walking toward the hanger, passing by Mairi
*Zekkass pauses at the tavern door, then shrugs and enters, lifting her head. Hopefully there would be some good conversation here, so she could raise her spirits.
Mahmoth: Take’t as is, lad. Likely’ll but summat’r other on y’lack of chest.
*Trichechus walks by Zekass, shaking his head gently.
HK-47: ((COuld I get a mah to english translation on that, Mah?))
*Mairi sighs and takes the tickets, “Thanks Mason”
*Trichechus gets into his bolo, the Tea Garden, and begins to taxi toward the runaway
*Alex Webster notices Zekkass, and like a man swimming hard for a life preserver, grasps his chance at someone reasonably normal to talk to. “Hey, Zekkass! How are you doing?”
*Zekkass heads for the bar and takes a seat. “G’morning, all.”
Mason Cypher: You’re welcome, beautiful. *he leaves the bar*
*Trichechus takes off into the glaring son.
Mahmoth: ((Take it as is, lad. It’ll put something or other on your lack of chest.))
Trichechus: ((*****sun ))
HK-47: ((Well, that’s another corpse for the skyland…))
HK-47: ((Son: *glares at Trichechus’, right until he gets run over*))
*Zekkass yawns. “Hi, Alex. I’m alright – just got in from another fruitless flight.”
Alex Webster: Heh. Happens. Take a seat, what’re you having?
HK-47: Statement: This unit requires a suction tube to be able to absorb liquid fuels.
*The Bartender waits out about 200 yards from the tavern, holding his .30 caliber automatic rifle, a heavy piece of machinery aimed at the tavern.
Zekkass: Same as usual. I don’t need a straw, though.
Alex Webster: Heh. An’ another lager for me, please Mah.
*Mahmoth blinks again, pokes around under the bar, pulls out a pack of straws and sets that beside the glass.
*The Bartender ,seeing no activity from outside the bar, lets go a volley of bullets, chipping dents in the side of the tavern.
Tethran: ((/ignore … Is my friend))
Alex Webster: ((not sure whether to ignore, or to dive over the bar…))
*Zekkass jumps at the noise, then puts her head on the counter, covering her ears. “No…not more bloody pirates. Not now.”
Mahmoth: ((Just ignore him. If you don’t respond, he’ll get bored and bugger off.))
Zekkass: ((Ah. ))
The Bartender: ((bored enough to start a gunfight… ill wait for BL…if people don’t say anything))
Zekkass: ((Then by all means, ignore that last complaint about pirates.))
*HK-47 pays no heed to the bullets, simply sticking a straw into his mouth-hole, then holding the glass up and sticking the other end into the juice and sipping slowly
Athrawes: ((Yeah, probalby not the best way to do it.))
Alex Webster: ((So noted. Enough gunfire for the past 48 hours anyway. Leave a break between random acts of mindless violence, please.))
*Mahmoth nods again. “Midgardian f’y’self, and unfortunate uncertainty as t’what y’usual is, dearling.”
*Mairi makes quick work of her drink in a few measured sips, leaning on her elbows again against the bar
Zekkass: Honey ale, then.
Mairi: Oh, Mah, Alex has been helping some with the day shift, so ya know
Zekkass: ((I’ve got to brb. Dad wants help digging a hole.))
The Bartender: ((just tell me what to do next….?))
Mahmoth: Ai, zo? Good beastie, certain.
Mahmoth: ((Go away.))
Alex Webster: ((roger, roger. And bartender: I thought my ‘no random acts of mindless violence tonight’ plea was clear?))
*HK-47 sets the glass down when it’s empty and pauses for a moment… “Statement: You meatbag’s… have strange fuels.”
Mairi: yeh. really got a knack for the questions too ::chuckling quietly::
Athrawes: ((Honestly, if its planned out, the violence is much better than alot of other stuff. However…))
Ennia: ((Yeah, last night was carefully planned so I could not be around… Don’t ask why I’m around anyway.))
*Mahmoth reaches up, picks down one of the honeystuff and another of the Hamerschlag, pouring out a pint of each and setting them before their requestors.
HK-47: ((For the record, the way he says meatbag is in the same way most would say “people”))
*Mairi folds her ears back and turns toward HK-47, “quit with the ‘meatbag’ {static} before we cut you down for scrap”
Alex Webster: Heh. Thanks.
*The Bartender ,seeing his attempt had no affect over the tavern crowd, walked away quickly
*HK-47 turns to Mairi “Apoligy: This unit means no offense to the… What would you like it to call you?”
Mairi: person. plural would be people
Athrawes: ((Ennia, does it have to do with your character arc, or just so you can be away?))
HK-47: Correction: You people have strange fuels.
The Bartender: ((or are you just taking a brak off of RP?))
Ennia: ((Both. ))
Zekkass: ((back ))
Ennia: ((I have 4 papers due next week and I’m moving on the 31st.))
The Bartender: ((good luck!))
Alex Webster: Hm. Haven’t seen you for a few days, Zekkass. How’ve you been?
*Zekkass sips her ale. “I’ve been alright. I’m looking for a navigator, and so far my search has been useless.”
Alex Webster: Really? I’ve just recruited a navi for Bellerophon. Took me a while to find someone competant who I could get along with, heh.
*Skylark Quintessa wanders downstairs and takes a seat at the bar.
Zekkass: Where did you find your navi? Tehras hasn’t given me any luck.
Alex Webster: Out Islo way, although I doubt that means much since she’s from Juliet originally, heh.
Mahmoth: Evenin’ Skyling. Usual f’y’self?
*Zekkass nods.
*Skylark Quintessa smiles and shakes her head “No thank you Mahmy, I’m not thirsty.”
Mairi: Navi’s don’t often hang out closer to the core than Islo, Fuseli, or Eltsina
Alex Webster: Yeah, I noticed this. Wonder why?
Zekkass: I’m planning to go to Fuseli to search around, but I’ll give Islo a shot after that, if I still haven’t found anyone.
Mairi: So they don’t get stuck on hum-drum core runs?
Mahmoth: Aught else f’y’self, or’r y’just here f’th’pleasance?
*Cecil Lancaster moves over to the couch, his drink finished, and sits down.
Alex Webster: Hm. Yeah, guess so.
Mairi: aside from that, there’s not all too much to navigate around the core, most trade routes are fairly clear and established already
Zekkass: That makes sense.
*Athrawes slips quietly out of the tavern.
Skylark Quintessa: Just here to look about at everyone.
Zekkass: Do you have any questions, then?
Alex Webster: More than can be said for what’s been happening around this place in the last day or so…
Skylark Quintessa: me smiles and wags her hedgie tail
Trichechus: ((? ))
*Skylark Quintessa smiles and wags her hedgie tail
Trichechus: ((:p ))
Skylark Quintessa: ((keys are sticking))
Zekkass: ((Ah. ))
Zekkass: What happened while I was out?
Mairi: yeah. well… hopefully things’ll calm down soonish, Alex
*Alexandra Borisov limps in, gives a few curt nods about the room, and takes a seat at the bar.
Alex Webster: Yeah, hope so. (To Zek) Well… where do I start…
*HK-47 is a strange sight to Skylark if she spots him, due to the fact that he is essentially a creature wrapped in metal, more or less.
*Zekkass waves at Alexandra and returns her attention to Alex.
HK-47: ((Imagine form-fitted plate, welded on, kinda-like.))
Zekkass: Well…someone mentioned violence?
Alex Webster: Do you know Ellington? Radio bloke. Came in here, he and Mairi irritated each other, then he launched a bottle of something at her. Ended with a vixen pulling her weapon and trying to end him. Markus and Mah had to intervene.
*Alexandra Borisov eyeballs the metallic figure balefully, then stares at the bar-surface.
Skylark Quintessa: ((full metal alchemist? what? lol))
Zekkass: Lovely. I know three of the people mentioned, and not one of them is Ellington.
Alex Webster: Broke a few tables and chairs, lots of bottles, the place was briefly set on fire too. Not fun.
Markus Jarnhann: Eh, ’twere nae tha’ bad.
HK-47: ((Brain-washed ferret who thinks he’s a mechanical-man.))
Zekkass: Hi, Markus. Who set the place on fire?
Markus Jarnhann: Naebody die’, an’ as sich, e’erythin’s on fire.
*Skylark Quintessa eyes the metal thing and moves closer to Mahmy.
Markus Jarnhann: Dinnae; I was upstairs fo’ mos’ o’t’ ‘ffair.
Mairi: yeah, ya wuss
*HK-47 just… stands there, near-silently, except for the soft hiss of breathing
Alex Webster: Fire was out quickly. Someone had fast reactions. Ended with the vixen – don’t know her name – bludgeoning Ellington over the head with a table leg.
Skylark Quintessa: Scary…
Zekkass: Ouch.
*Markus Jarnhann snorts, and glances at Mai. “…Yeh, yeh… Ye’re nae goin’ tae le’ me live i’down, are ye?”
*Markus Jarnhann looks back at Alex. “…’Er name’s Silura, mate. An’ she bludgeoned Ell bu’ good. I figure ‘e’s still in tae ‘ospital, unde’ observation.”
Burrito Loco: ((FMA ))
Alex Webster: Thanks, Markus. I wasn’t here for the next bit, but apparently someone got shot just outside. Squirrel named Ennia. Gunman ran off, and Markus ended up having some kind of gun battle over at the park.
*Mairi snorts and smirks slightly, though the look is slightly teasing
Zekkass: Seems I missed a lot of excitement.
Alex Webster: (Understatement) That much is certain…
*Zekkass shrugs. “That could be a good thing, with the guns and the fire.”
HK-47: Statement: Meatba– That is, people are always getting injured by bullets. A weakness of being meat.
Zekkass: Riiight. Who are you, metalman?
*Alexandra Borisov darts her gaze about irritably.
*Skylark Quintessa jumps nearly a mile in the air and scootches off to a corner.
*Alex Webster can’t find a look strange enough to give HK.
*Markus Jarnhann shrugs slightly, and looks at Alex. “…Aye. ‘ve a name now. Which… Yeh.” ::He shrugs with his left arm, glancing at Mai.:: “Ye seem tae be in bette’ spirits, m’dear.”
HK-47: Explanation: This unit is the Hunter Killer, version 47. All previous versions failed, sometimes violently. This unit would be proud, if it was capable of such a feeling, to be the only sucessful model.
*Mairi snorts again, “ha. somethin’ like that”
*Zekkass nods again, skeptic. “Riight.”
Zekkass: *skeptical
HK-47: Clarification: This unit’s primary purpose is the extermination of all pirates.
Alex Webster: … Okay. Fine.
Kanephren: ((I suppose I should get around to buying Kotor 1 or 2 at some point – whichever one it was.))
Markus Jarnhann: ((so, Alex, you wanted to talk to me earlier? :P))
Alexandra Borisov: Pah! *this hiss is aimed at the metallic figure, and then Alexa goes back to staring at the bar*
Markus Jarnhann: ((Kane: He’s in both.))
Kanephren: ((oh, right.))
Zekkass: Have fun with that. Where there’s trade, there’ll be pirates.
HK-47: ((Now RP has snakes, spiders, and brain washed ferrets. :D))
Alex Webster: So, uh… Markus, can I talk to you about the Vengence?
*Zekkass turns her head to look at Alex. “The Vengence? The plane?”
*Markus Jarnhann nods at Alex. “Ye may… Wha’ woul’ ye like tae know?”
Alex Webster: Aha. That’s the one I wanted to talk about, anyway, heh.
Zekkass: Color me interested. Do you two mind if I listen in?
Mairi: Cannon with wings
Mairi: the end
Zekkass: I’m sure it’s not that bad.
Alex Webster: Go ahead. You can show me later what kind of colour ‘interested’ is, heh. Anyway, I’ve heard you speak about the Veng very highly in the past…
Mairi: who said that’s bad?
Mahmoth: Most every huntsman’f note’s’d a Veng, seeming.
Markus Jarnhann: By all means, Zek.
*Mairi gets up from the bar and heads to Markus’ table, taking a seat across from him
Alex Webster: I can go out there right now and get myself one. Used to having a plane that can fire backwards, but I’m sure I’ll adapt. On the other hand, I’m quite happy with my Hawk. What’s the advantage of getting myself a cannon?
*Markus Jarnhann smiles lopsidedly at Mai, and glances at Alex and Zekkass. “…Tae wolly fellow’s righ’. Tae advantage is ye get much bette’ range.”
*Zekkass nods. “What about manueverability?”
*Mairi holds out her hand toward Markus and flexes her fingers as if beckoning him to hand her something
Markus Jarnhann: Tae big rotary goon on tae beastie’s go’ nasty range, an’ she packs a punch. She ‘andles fairly well, ‘specially once ye upgrade ‘er. You star’ makin’ some serious mod’fications, an’ she’ll trea’ ye like a king. No’ much shor’ o’ a ‘eavily upgrade’ ‘Venger can give ye trouble, an ye’ll be no likely tae run intae one… ::He looks at Mai, confusedly, for a second.::
*Skylark Quintessa darts up the steps and stays up in her room
*Mairi chuckles softly and pulls her hand back, leaning back in her chair some
Zekkass: Then I might just wind up with one. I saw several at Fuseli, and that is where I’m headed…
Alex Webster: Mm. I’ll miss my hawk, but no point stalling because I’m comfortable. And it *would* be nice to shoot the pirates from way out of their effective range…
*Zekkass nods
*Markus Jarnhann nods slightly to both pilots, and blinks as he realizes what she’s talking about. “…Bloody ‘ell, I lef’ i’ o’ me plane. Ye wan’ tae take a walk wit’ me?”
Zekkass: Sure. What did you leave on your plane?
Alexandra Borisov: Ach, Herr Elefant… ‘ave you any strong black tea?
Alex Webster: Hokay. Guess I’ll have Sun plot me a course to the giant flying battleship, then.
*Markus Jarnhann looks back at Alex, for one final note. “…There’s a reason I still fly tae Ascendant Rage, frien’. She’s treate’ me bette’ ‘n anythin’ else.” He looks at Zekkass.. “…Sorreh, were talkin’ tae Mairi ‘ere. She knows wha’ I’m talkin’ ‘bou’.”
Zekkass: Oh, oops. Nevermind, I’ll stay here and nurse my ale.
Alex Webster: Thanks, Markus.
Mairi: Huh? oh! no, not that
*Mairi chuckles a bit, “nah. nevermind”
Mahmoth: Likely so, Lexling. Y’well?
Zekkass: Thanks for the information, Markus.
*Mahmoth pokes briefly at the Urn, pulls out something black as pitch and only slightly thinner, passing it across in adainty cup.
Alexandra Borisov: I am… z’tea would remind me of ‘ome… t’sank you. *she cradles the cup with surprising delicacy and sips at it, inhaling the vapors in between*
Mairi: so that mean it’s finished then?
*Markus Jarnhann blinks a bit… “Oh…. tha’.” ::He shrugs slightly, before answering the second question.:: “…Yeh, finishe’ i’ las’ nigh’. ‘Ad tae ge’ back tae me place tae do i’… ’twere why I lef’ suddenly.”
*Alex Webster drains a little more of his lager. “Uh, so how’s life as an Armada pilot, Zekkass?”
Mairi: so can I see?
*Zekkass blinks and sets down her drink. “It’s pretty good, so far. I run missions, but nothing too big yet.”
*Markus Jarnhann chuckles. “Seein’ as I made i’ fo’ ye, yeh, ye can see. Like I sai’… jus’.. got tae ge’ i’ from me bir’.”
Alex Webster: Much different from being an unaligned freelancer?
*Mairi nods, “alright. still want me to go with?”
Alex Webster: Heh, I ask as an unaligned freelancer, trying to see what it’s like on the inside…
Markus Jarnhann: Up tae ye. Ye dinnae ‘ave tae, bu’ why no’?
Zekkass: So far? Not really. I’ll be asked to run missions for certain places, but that’s it for now.
Mairi: I’ll go
*Alexandra Borisov rises and steps over towards the little group, shaking off her limp as she goes.
Alex Webster: Hm. I see. More about the people and the cause than the actual job, really, thus far then?
Alexandra Borisov: Er, Mairi? I wish to apologize if I was… if z’ere were improprieties z’other day.
HK-47: ((Alex W: Check world))
*Zekkass nods. “Quite frankly, I don’t have enough funds to pull the kind of missions and influence that would really make a difference.”
Mairi: improprieties? vodka for breakfast isn’t my favorite, but I don’t think it’s taboo
Alexandra Borisov: *discomfitted, but only briefly* Oh, well, good z’en. I was not myself. *she nods a bit stiffly to Alex and Zekk and Markus as well, then steps out of the tavern*
*Alex Webster doesn’t really know her, but returns the nod politely.
*Markus Jarnhann grins lopsidedly at Mai, and rises to his feet, as he glances at Mai, and then nods to Alexandra, before making his way for the door, as well.
Zekkass: My Seahawk is a great flight – but I need a better plane for what I intend to do.
Alex Webster: Yeah, agreed. I’ll miss the sea ditching capability, but I guess I’ll just have to not get shot down, heh.
Zekkass: That would be nice, not getting shot down.
Markus Jarnhann: O’ ye coul’ pu’ on retract’ble sea struts. I di’.
*Mairi stands up and follows after Markus
Alex Webster: That… would make sense…
Zekkass: …that’s why we listen to the veterans.
*Markus Jarnhann reaches across his hip, and pulls his flask for her. “…were this wha’ ye were lookin’ fo’?”
Zekkass: ((brb, bathroom))
*Mairi chuckles, “nah. I’m good”
Ennia: ((No, she was looking at his butt! *goes back to not being around*))
*Markus Jarnhann chuckles, and takes a pull from the flask, and caps it, sliding it back into is holster. “Alrigh’.” He continues leading on towards the hangar.
Darkstar: ((is Ennia alive?))
Darkstar: ((I’m assuming she’s in the hosbibal.))
Alex Webster: ((Critical condition, IIRC. Lars hasn’t been told yet.))
Darkstar: ((Lars was there in the ambulance ride.))
Darkstar: ((I just got booted at 10:40 on the dot, so I’m going to assume he’s still by her side.))
*Mairi wanders behind Markus in amicable silence
Alex Webster: ((understood. I recall someone not to mention her condition to Lars, though.))
Darkstar: ((Well, he fell asleep in the lobby then.))
Alex Webster: ((sorry, that didn’t even make sense. Someone SAID not to mention it… I need to type properly :P))
Ennia: ((Yeah, she’s alive.))
Darkstar: ::Lars::*enters the tavern his eyes red-rimmed, he looks around plops down on a couch.*
Darkstar: ((brb, movie tickes.))
Darkstar: ((tickets* ))
*Markus Jarnhann looks down at Mai, and smirks again. As the reach the hangar, he makes his way towards the Heavily modified Vengeance towards the back of the hangar. The craft is painted crimson on the top, and black on the sides, with gold striping running the length of the wings, and seperating the black and red. He grins a bit, and looks down at Mai. “…’Ere she is.”
Zekkass: ((back ))
Darkstar: ((as am I… With Dark Knight tickets… MO FO!))
Zekkass: ((Whoo! ))
*Mairi tilts her head, looking around the plane from her vantage point
Mairi: so where’s the rest of it?
*Zekkass looks around. Time for another drink.
*Mairi grins a bit
*Markus Jarnhann grins lopsidedly at Mai. “…Hey now lady, dinnae mock m’ship. She’s one o’ tae fastes’ o’ ‘er type ou’ there.”
Zekkass: I’ll take another drink, please.
Darkstar: ::Lars::*glares grogily at Zekkass* Come on man, keep it down.
*Mairi chuckles, “mm, I guess she’s alright.. almost as impressive as my beast” nodding toward her own still dark-smudged tiny silver craft with a few moles working on it
Zekkass: Why?
*Markus Jarnhann moves to the ladder on the cockpit pod of his ship, and starts clambering up, before glancing back down at her. He shakes his head a bit, and smirks, as he pushes the handhold on the gold-tinted cockpit, and leans in, pulling out a small wooden box.
Darkstar: ::Lars::*stares irrationally furious at Zekkass. Lars’ fur is a nappy mess, his eyes are shot, and there are crusty patches of drool around his lips* Look at me… That’s why.
Zekkass: You’re drunk?
*Alex Webster finishes his lager, and places the empty glass back on the bar. “Right! Well, I should get going. Got some distance to cover before getting to the battleship.”
Darkstar: ::Lars::*chuckles, his throat makes his disgusting prattle as he does* I wish…
Darkstar: ((this* not his…))
*Mairi waits patiently below, watching Markus curiously
*Markus Jarnhann climbs down, the box in his right hand, which he keeps to his side, as he uses his left to climb with. He moves to and hands it over ot her.
Alex Webster: Seeya later on, Zekkass. Might see you on Fuseli, I expect I’ll be spending some time in the hangar there if I get my new ship.
Zekkass: G’bye, Alex. Have fun there – I’ll be along shortly.
Darkstar: ::Lars::*eyes Alex wearily*
*Mairi grins, “So, can I open it now?”
*Markus Jarnhann smiles. “Up tae ye.”
*Alex Webster doesn’t know Lars, but inclines his head towards him. He then gives a wave and nod to Mahmoth before heading for the hangars…
*Mairi chuckles and opens the box without further delay
Darkstar: ::Lars::*passes out on the couch dead to the world.
*Markus Jarnhann grins, as Mai opens it to find the ebony block now carved into an open rose, with a small ruby set in the center, and a stem of gold portruding from the bottom. It’s fairly simple in appearance, not terribly ornate, but… it looks fairly realistic.
Zekkass: ….lovely. Another honey ale, please?
*Mahmoth cracks an eyelid, uncurls his trunk up, pulls down the ale, sets it down beside a clean glass.
Zekkass: Thanks.
*Mairi blinks in surprise at the contents of the box, looking up at Markus
*Burrito Loco wakes up after his own nap mirroring Markus’
*Zekkass yawns, then sips at her drink.
*Markus Jarnhann smiles a bit. “…Go’ a bi’ carried ‘way, bu’… I wante’ tae do somethin’ nice.”
Mairi: wow… this is.. really nice. ::biting her lip a bit as the sides of her mouth pull down slightly::
*Markus Jarnhann watches her, not sure what that reaction was. He says nothing… just watching her.
*Zekkass stands, finishing her drink. “I’d better get going. Have fun, all.” She leaves.
*Mairi looks down at the rose again and closes the box, looking up at Markus again with a somewhat veiled expression, finally smiling a little bit before saying “Thank you, Markus”
*Markus Jarnhann inclines his head, speaking quietly, “…Ye ‘re welcome.” In the back of his mind however, a million different thoughts race, as he looks back up at Mai.
*Burrito Loco watches Mairi and Markus, face implaccable
Mairi: ((hangar BL?))
Mairi: ((we’re by Markus’ plane))
Burrito Loco: ((mah bad, or maybe))
Burrito Loco: ((I bum around my plane alot….))
*Mairi runs her thumb over the closed box, biting her lip some as she looks down at it again
Burrito Loco: ((why not, eh? I’m tuning it or somesuch))
Markus Jarnhann: ((heh, go for it, I guess.))
Mairi: ((sfine, just saying where we are at))
*Markus Jarnhann shrugs a bit. “…D’ye like i’?”
Mairi: yeah, of course Markus.. it’s really… wow. not what I expected..
*Markus Jarnhann nods slightly. “…Like I sai’… go’ carrie’ ‘way. Wen’ tae use some tools… an’ nex’ thin’ I knew, I was workin’ tha’ up…”
*Burrito Loco continues to toy with his mechanical linkages in the tail
*Mairi nods, “wow..”
*Markus Jarnhann leans up against the side of his plane… smiling slightly, again. “…Jus’.. wante’ tae do somethin’ fo’ ye.”
*Mairi sighs a little, “why do ya have to be so damned nice to me all the time?”
*Markus Jarnhann quirks an eyebrow. “…Why shouldnae I be?”
*Mairi shrugs, “cuz nothing good ever comes of it”
*Markus Jarnhann shrugs as best he can. “…Nae true. I’d feel… wron’ no’ doin’ i’.”

[Ed: Another couple of lines missing! I am certain that it wasn’t like this before, but the lines are missing in my original log and the backup. What is going on?]

*[…]hann grins lopsidedly at Mai. “…An’ wha’, pray tell, woul’ be tae fun o’ tha’?”
Mairi: fun? how is it fun? I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt, damn it!
*Markus Jarnhann smiles a bit. “….An’ I respec’ tha’. Bu’, wha ye dinnae realize is I cannae mo’ change tae way I feel then tae sun can sto’ fro’ risin’. ” ::He shrugs:: “‘Tis t’truth o’ tae thin’.”
*Mairi sighs and rolls her head heavenwards, “the sun again…” muttering mostly to herself before looking back at Markus, a stern look on her face, “Fine. As long as you realize it’ll just make you miserable or worse, and it’s not my damned fault this time. Maybe you’ll get lucky and just hate me instead”
*Markus Jarnhann chuckles. “…I dinnae think meself cap’ble o’ hatin’ ye, bu’ tha’s fine.”
*Mairi snorts, “then it just looks that much worse for you”
*Markus Jarnhann grins again, and shakes his head. “Depen’s on ye perspective.”
*Mairi shakes her head and sets her jaw slightly as she turns to walk in the direction of her plane
*Markus Jarnhann follows, two steps behind, the half-grin on his face still there.

{static}

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