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Author Topic: The Clutch (A bar for airship pirates, ragamuffins and other law breakers)  (Read 30080 times)
CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« on: January 04, 2010, 11:54:17 pm »

You walk down a dark alleyway. In the dim, yellow streetlight, you see a sign "The Clutch". With a sparked interest, you push open the heavy wooden door and walk into a poorly lit room. Gas lamps hang from the ceiling over tables, some of which are occupied. You approach the bar, and lined infront of it are a few moth-eaten stools. Wiping down the bar is woman with long dark hair who's arms are adorned with tattoo's. Around her neck are a pair of brass goggles, and she wears a black tunic. You hear the clack of her boots and the rustle of her skirts as she moves around, wiping the bar. She looks up at you as you approach the bar and gives you a smile.
"What can I get you?" She asks.
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Ginny Audriana Irondust Moravia. Pleased t' meet ya.
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #1 on: January 05, 2010, 06:07:34 pm »

An Ghod's Blessing (irish coffee with a double shot of Tullamore Dew) M'laidy if you don't mind,else a Guinness and a black coffee
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Who you calling old, Sonny boy? Just because my birth certificate is on birch bark there isn't any reason to be calling names.
machinist for hire/ mechanic at large
Warning : minstrel with a five string banjo
CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #2 on: January 05, 2010, 11:21:10 pm »

Coming right up.
-Pours you your drink, before handing it to you-
So, what brings you to The Clutch?
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Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #3 on: January 07, 2010, 08:00:45 am »

 accepts glass coffee cup, 'thank you M'laidy' then downs about 1/2 of it in two swallows, ' Thank you I really needed that, as to what brings me in  tonite, weeel now it starts with  a granite filled cloud and a spirit compass that lost its spirits and ends with I'm not as good a navigator as I thought i was.'  He then finishes the coffee in another two swallows and placing the cup back on the bar says" Do you know of some place I can purchase 300 ten foot long 1"*1"  spruce poles?  I need them to repair my airship, the lower forward twenty foot of the port structure needs rebuilding now,after the trip in from Seattle. passes the bartender a note with his payment ;  the note reads, do you know anyone expecting a shipment of lemon juice? I  would like another just like that one M'laidy......                             
                                                                            Miles (a sailor)Martin
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #4 on: January 07, 2010, 08:38:26 am »

*walks in, a tall, rather heavyset-yet-not-fat man, dark brown/silver-gray salt n' pepper hair and mustache; except for the wide handlebar mustache, hawklike nose, and the glitter of icily-glittering grey-blue eyes, his face is mostly hidden by the tall collar on an old airman-blue uniform greatcoat with buttoned-back lapels and a very-wide-brimmed palm-leaf hat, complete with blue infantry cord, on his head, the hair color surmised from the color of the mustache. The rounded butt of a broomhandle Mauser self-loading pistol protrudes from the coat from a shoulder holster hanging from the left shoulder, and the hilt of a cutlass can barely be discerned within the depths of the coat, dangling from a wide leather belt-and-baldric buckled over a pair of what appear to be (it's difficult to tell for sure) a pair of gray-braid-seamed blue airman's trousers, the bottom hems of the the legs of which are tucked into not so old black cavalry/airman's boots.

The coat, after a second glance (while the man is turned back toward the door, as if expecting someone), is odd in that the back of the coat bears what looks like two sleeves that look wrinkled and well-worn, as if the fellow might have two rather large arms protruding from his back; there is no evidence of such, however, but the slightly-soiled back of a white broadcloth shirt similarly-equipped can be made out by looking down one sleeve. His sword- and gun-calloused right hand fishes two silver coins from his trousers' right pocket, places them on the bar.

He says in, of all things, a thick Texian Drawl that twangs in his deep basso voice, "A cup of that coffee'd be a treasure, Ma'am.
Logged

Walk softly and carry a big banjo...

""quid statis aspicientes in infernum"
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #5 on: January 07, 2010, 09:02:05 am »

'Good day to you' says Miles in a slight tex-okie/cajun-georga drawl," when did you make it in from the Lone Star Republic? Captain / Or am I mistaken? Miles Martin of the Andrews patent airship Aireon 3  a 30 ton dual catamaran dirigible, currently down for repair." turns to  Cornelia ,      " M'laidy could I trouble you for one more, before i go in search of a hotel tonite and a chandler's shop in the morn.   Why thank you kindly" as he lays twin double eagles on the bar, then slides them down to CorneliaCarton .
                                                                   Miles (a sailor)Martin
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CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #6 on: January 08, 2010, 01:20:57 am »

-she smiles at the two- Coming right up.
-She first pours Miles his drink, handing it to him, then makes the rather tall gentleman's drink, also handing it to him-
There you are.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #7 on: January 08, 2010, 08:04:32 am »

Accepts the coffee, and answers "thank y' ma'am." Closes his eyes, inhales th earomatic steam and then takes a sip. its near scalding, but far enough from it to be comfortable.the hot liquid makes its way down into his body's core, driving away mists, chill air, and lonesomeness. HE opens his eyes, and answers the other fellow, "Name's Bailey. Capn' MW Bailey of the Republic of Texas Air Ship Angela, a negative-gravity gunship. We can outgun anything that can catch us, and outrun anything that can outgun us." HE paused and took a long, appreciative sip. "There's a chandlery, Cheviot and Son's, down on Lightship Row in the East Docks that serves both water and airships, sells for cheap, mostly-better stuff than the posh passenger-trade chandleries off Blatt Street -- but lumber like you mentioned as I came in is dear these days;  Even Chevvy'll have ta ask top dollar for it."
« Last Edit: January 09, 2010, 10:33:30 am by MWBailey » Logged
CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #8 on: January 08, 2010, 06:59:17 pm »

-She holds out her hand for MW Bailey to shake-
Captain Cornelia Carton, Captain of the H.M.s Isabella. Started up this place because there was no where else for me to go where I wasn't under suspicion of being an airship pirate.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #9 on: January 09, 2010, 10:39:05 am »

"Ah'm honored to make yer acquaintance, Ma'am," said Bailey, "and yours as well, Mister Martin -- or is it Capn' Martin? He took another long drink of the good, hot coffee. 'you make good coffee, Capn' Carton," he said, relishing the contrast of the hot liquid in his throat and stomach, in contrast to the cold air outside, which has left its chill in the fibers of his coat and trousers.

After a long moment of silence, MW realizes that either
1. He's expected to volunteer more information, which is sworn not to do, or
2. He's a fifthe and unnecessary wheel in afast-revolving train, and should remove himself before the brakes are applied in a brutal manner.

He chooses the latter, and tips his hat to the barkeep, and the fellow with the busted ship, and says, "good night and good morrow to you both," and rises and exits the door, at which he suddenly extends through the sleeves on the backs of his shiurt and coat a pair of brass wings, like an  eagle's complete with brass feathers; wings of a size that could not possibly have been hidden under the coat, and flaps off into the foggy night...
« Last Edit: January 25, 2010, 07:31:34 am by MWBailey » Logged
Miles (a sailor)Martin
Zeppelin Admiral
******
United States United States


Just a head full of random thoughts


« Reply #10 on: January 11, 2010, 09:41:07 pm »

Miles says" thank you for the information " to the good Lone star captain and finishes his coffee sats good night to the LADY Captain as well andtrails MWbailey out the doorjust in time to see his boots dissapear into the fog,he shakes his head and says under his breath "What will thm crazy tinkerers think up next?
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CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #11 on: January 14, 2010, 12:06:56 am »

Cornelia glares a little after him.
"He could at least have paid" She mutters, continuing her cleaning of the bar.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #12 on: January 14, 2010, 08:07:00 pm »

Bailey Swoops back down out of the fog, pulls in and miniaturizes his wings in a dark alley-mouth, makes sure they are not large enough to protrude, and then walks into the bar,and pulls out a gold sovereign.

"Howdy again, Ma'am." he says, "I think I may have neglected to pay for my my coffee." He lays the Sovereign down on the bar. "That ought to pay for the beverage and the inconvenience of my forgetfulness," he says, and turns as if to leave.
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Acid Varrakin
Gunner
**
Australia Australia

Aestheticism Negates Practicality


« Reply #13 on: January 15, 2010, 08:29:14 am »

A tall, limber man, his blond hair tied back in a long ponytail and adorning a black trilby, stops in the street and rummages through his greatcoat. Seemingly out of nowhere, he is sent sprawling across the street, the contents of his coat scattered across the pavement. Over him swoops a heavyset man in an airman-blue greatcoat and palm-leaf hat, hurredily making his way into a dark building.

Gasping for air, the wind knocked from his lungs, the man scrambles across the street to gather his fallen belongings - one such item appeared, to a passing tourist, to have the black-metal sheen of some offensive weapon. Not wanting to start trouble, however, the tourist just walks away from the scrabbling madman.

The man stands to his feet, still slightly woozy from the fall. He gazed upon the doorway which his assailant had entered, a wave of both anger and intrigue passing over him. He is right hand gripping something in his largest coat pocket, the man opens the door and steps inside. There, stepping away from a gleaming soverign on the bar, is the man who knocked him down.

"Evening, gentlemen; milady," he said, nodding to the barlady.

Varrakin steps past his strangely-dressed quarry, menacingly nudging his shoulder with his own. Keeping his right hand wrapped around the item in his pocket, he slams a soverign upon the bar with his other hand.

"Lager. Tall."
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CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #14 on: January 16, 2010, 04:50:00 pm »

Cornelia nods to Bailey.
"Thank you" she says, taking the coin and placing it in the old victorian till.
Looking up, she sees a tall man enter. Upon hearing his request, she simply nods and sets about pouring him a drink. SHe looks at him.
"You look like you've had a rough day" She states, before handing him his lager.
"Three, please" She says, holding out her hand.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #15 on: January 19, 2010, 05:29:49 am »

"Sir," Bailey says, suddenly remembering an impact that to him seemed neglible in the region of his knees, which he took to be the spine of a horse (having the sounds of a horse -and-trap in the dense fog, - which only rose to about head-height- in which he landed, and in which it had been impossible to discern much more than the blurred outline before happenstance went crazy), "Might it be yourself that I collided with? I couldn't see much before, and was in a hurry after, to pay a bill I accidentally absconded upon. Let me pay the remainder of his draught, Ma'am," he says to Miss Cornelia, "and any he has after it for this evening. I wonder, Sir, if you will accept my apology?I don't usually fly blind, but circumstances called for haste and a modicum of risk. I do apologize for any distress, and will gladly find a way to take care of any injury I might have caused to your person. If you need medical attention, I will gladly take you to the sickbay of my ship."

The speech, not to mention standing the other man's bill for drinks, and especially the offer of the sickbay, is out of normal character for the usually short-spoken Texian captain, but he feels acutely the regret of his offense, inadvertent though it might have been. That does not stop him, however, from pressing the middle finger of his left hand toward the pad of his thumb; there rests, mostly out of sight in the shadow of the cuff of the coat sleeve, the lever which is attached to the bracer on his left forearm, which carries several offensive possibilities.  The one that the lever both activates and fires is a Tesla-powered arc-projector, which in the currently extremely-humid atmosphere,  will have no difficulty leaping from Bailey to the nearest target carrying the most metallic mass, which in this instance would be the man with the menacing shoulder and the hand in his pocket.

The lever is resistant to his inward-pressing finger, which indicates that the coil and its attendant secondary- and tertiary-bolt capacitors are not only fully charged, but somewhat over -charged, nearly to a plasmic level. Nothing but a slight hint of ozone drifting around his shoulder from the small of his back betrays the presence of the well-hidden tesla rig. He hates the charbroiled mess it always makes of the target, but it's effectiveness is undeniable. Of course, there was always the Mauser, or his hideout gun, should the tesla unit somehow malfunction, and the saber, if he ran out of ammo... and the sling inside his shirt, tied around his shoulder, if everything else failed.

"Come, sir, let's not have a quarrel," he says, all the time aware that the fellow has not removed his hand from his coat pocket, gripping somethng large and short-barrelled, and evidently very weighty.
« Last Edit: January 19, 2010, 05:09:13 pm by MWBailey » Logged
CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #16 on: January 20, 2010, 12:07:50 am »

Cornelia eyes the two suspisciously.
"There'll be no fighting in here, you understand? I don't want the Law coming around here. You want to fight? Take it somewhere else, but don't do it on my doorstep" She warned them both, glaring now.
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Tenlo
Deck Hand
*
United Kingdom United Kingdom


Travelling Philosopher and Part-time Eccentric


« Reply #17 on: January 20, 2010, 01:46:31 am »

A young man nervously peeks round the entrance to the bar.  Sensing he can slip unnoticed by the gentlemen speaking, he enters the room. Wrapped within his battered military coat can be seen a tattered waistcoat and grimy shirt. His trousers are scruffy and patched in several place and tucked within a pair of scuffed leather boots. His hair, though uncombed, is tied behind his head and he sports a top hat, within which a pair of well used goggles sit as do a small collection of feathers. To all intents and purposes he seems like a ruffian of the worst order, but there is a glint in his blue eyes, which betrays the intelligence of the man.

"Perchance a dram of whiskey please, ma'am?" His voice has a slight twinge of the farmlands within it, and yet is clear and belies an education. "It's a wee bit nippy in these lands, and my spirits need a small refreshment for the evening"
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #18 on: January 20, 2010, 05:56:20 am »

Bailey doesn't take his eyes from the Man with the Menacing Shoulder, but he nods in understanding. "I do understand, ma'am, I truly do. I'm not too sure about Mr. hand-in-pocket, though. Well, what'll it be, friend? shall we sit and drink and call it misunderstood, or take it out in the alley to see who's faster?"

While waiting for Menacing Shoulder to answer, he heard the slightly-countrified voice of Young Goggles (he had gotten into the habit of naming people by their actions years before, when he was a sprog lieutenant on board one of the Flying Ironclads that patrolled the Texian coastline, and never lost the habit) Ive heard that voice somewhere before, he thought, or one very much like it.  No time to ask now, he knew, but it still intrigued him, as he moved toward both the door and the bar, hands held open and empty slightly out to either side, below his hips, simultaneously pulling his coat wide to either side, displaying the Mauser in its left-hand shoulder holster, his saber, and the grip of the pocket revolver protruding from the right breast pocket of the blue uniform greatcoat, not to mention the weapons in his boots. One went armed to the teeth in the clouds these days, whether one could fly unaided or not.
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CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #19 on: January 20, 2010, 07:47:54 pm »

She looked to Varrakin, giving him a warning glare.
"Cause any trouble and I'll shoot you so fast you won't know what hit you, y'hear?" She said, pointing at him.
She looked to the newcomer and smiled.
"Coming right up" She said, setting about making his drink.
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Acid Varrakin
Gunner
**
Australia Australia

Aestheticism Negates Practicality


« Reply #20 on: January 23, 2010, 12:46:26 pm »

"Well," said Varrakin, forcing a smile. "I'm a man who knows when he's outdrawn. Besides,"

he took the revolver from his pocket and swung the cylinder out, revealing its clear lack of ammunition.

"it's not like I can afford to shoot anyone anyway."

He laid the gun on the bar. A clatter on the ground; Varrakin's privateer license had fallen from his pocket. The scrap of parchment, hardened from years of wear, looked a sad and sorry sight against the base of the bar. Stamped across its breadth was a square, 4-letter word:

VOID

He snapped it up quickly and replaced it into his largest pocket. Eager to defer attention, he motioned to the newcomer, then to the barlady:

"I'll pay for his. Couldn't trouble you for another of those, while you're at it?"
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CorneliaCarton
Zeppelin Captain
*****
Scotland Scotland

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« Reply #21 on: January 24, 2010, 12:52:51 am »

Cornelia nodded, then set about making Varrakin's drink.
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Lord Ashen
Deck Hand
*
United Kingdom United Kingdom


« Reply #22 on: January 24, 2010, 10:18:55 pm »

A young man enters, removing his gloves and placing them into his long coat he smiles at the customers besides the bar 'Evening all'  he says before adding 'My lady' He makes his way to the bar chooses the seat closest to the fire. Brushing his coat to one side the numerous notebooks and sketches for contraptions concealed in the inside pockets were clearly visible as were the ones which fell to the floor, which he quickly picked up.
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MWBailey
Rogue Ætherlord
*
United States United States


"This is the sort of thing no-one ever believes"

rtafStElmo
« Reply #23 on: January 25, 2010, 07:46:37 am »

Baileycrooked his left arm, interrupting the circuit, and held the lever in his palm down, then straightened his arm again, thus disconnecting the tesla rig but leaving the capacitance circuits charged up. A whine as of a small fast-RPM motor, only noticeable now that it was switched off and its whining , barely-audible buuuzzzz -ing lowered n pitch, sounded in the newly-relaxed air of the barroom.

Baileyhimself had mot noticed it, and had a really bad anxiety moment, realizing that the static plant could have gone online along with the tesla coil, causing all sorts of electrical havoc, if he had pressed the lever with his hand pointed  forward. The man with the empty revolver, himself, Captain Cornelia, and most of the bartop vanishing in a plasmic offload would have been only the start of things if that had happened.

He ordered a double whiskey, four fingers both, to stop his teeth from chattering. Someday, I have got to build a fail-safe for this rig, he scolded himself.

When he felt steady enough, he straightened and walked over to the young fellow with teh myriad notebooks, and introduced himself. "Evenin', young fellow. mind if an old experiment sits down next to you?"
« Last Edit: January 25, 2010, 07:52:09 am by MWBailey » Logged
Tenlo
Deck Hand
*
United Kingdom United Kingdom


Travelling Philosopher and Part-time Eccentric


« Reply #24 on: January 25, 2010, 10:06:35 am »

"That is very kind of you sir, when you travel the lands such as I have, you learn to trust freely, never listen to first impressions and most importantly never say no to a free drink. Cheers, my good man. The name is Gideon Bleeze. General wanderer and philosopher of life at your service. Oh and may I add, the clearness of this whiskey, shows the truly excellent taste of our lady barkeep. To you too madam"

He motions to Varrakin to sit beside him at the bar and join him in some drinks and memories.
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