The Clutch (A bar for airship pirates, ragamuffins and other law breakers)

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

She gives a laugh, shaking her head. "Alegrah. I'll just say I'm no' the best "lady" to be familiar with at times, eh?"
She tilts her head at the priest, nodding. "Och, I do. Lived 'ere most of m'life, really. Been cause enough of some disappearances, too." She grins faintly.

[MWBailey]

Bailey sidles up to thebar, and says, "three fingers of neat gin, please, Cap'n. He turned off the Tesla rig and pulled his wood-shell-and-amber pocket watch from his vest pocket and consulted it for the time and the positions of Jupiter and Moonrise. Just then, a portly fellow in the uniform of a coxswain's mate (complete with back sleeves just like MW's) dashed in, and asked a fellow by the door for 'Captain Bailey."

"I believes that be him there, mate,"  the fellow said.

"Thankee, mate, much obliged."

"Cox'n's mate Threadgill, what are you doin' here? I though the ship was destroyed! Best be seeking a new employer, all me payroll was in tha' tub!" Bailey advised the shorter man.

"Must be the Bosun got 'ere to tell the tale, then. fat lot 'e'd know, he were gone over the soid 'fore we stopped a-rockin." he puffed out his bushy white moustaches forcefully, in a disgusted sort of way, and said further, "Ariadne's not destroyed, just mauled, an' we needs a new engineer, but no worse than that. Yer Brother-in-law's chandlery boys been a-workin on her the last two day, and now she be ready for anythin'!"

Bailey downed his gin, then paid Cornelia what he owed, saying, "looks liek I have me  a ship after all! Best go and make certain they didn't just put plate ove rteh hole with no supports. Be seeing you soon, Cap'n Carton, I reckon."

And Bailey strode out the door after his portly crewman. HE was heard to say, as both reached teh open alley and took off for the ship, "Thready, I can't imagine how you can take off, bein' rounded off like how ye are!"

Threadgill's laugh, which sounded as if Bailey had refreshed a long-running joke, replied in a voice that faded off into the foggy air, "Ah, well, I be half bumblebee, me mother always used tae tell me..."

((ooc: I'll come back later if it's OK, Cornelia...If not, then I won't ))

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

She arches a brow, looking about. "Gettin' lonely in 'ere, I see."

(thought it needed to get bumped)

[MWBailey]

The foggy air in the doorway of The Clutch was suddenly split down the middle and shifted to one side, as of someone opening the very fabric of the foggy night like a curtain and letting it flop back closed again. when it had closed, there became more clearly defined in the midst of the foggy remnants a figure of a man, darkly dressed in a brown airman's trenchcoat and black silk tophat, and tucking into the folds of the coat an oblong, black, boxlike form that was covered all over with dials, and switches, and gauges, and the occasional tiny points of jewel-like red, green, yellow or viridian lights.

His left eye was patched, and the right shown in a clear brown, the aquiline, romanesque nose like a church buttress above the thick undergrowth of his graying dark-brown moustache, which matched the wiry, unruly hair that stuck out from beneath the hat like short tufts of frosted gorse brush. His efforts to tuck away the device that he carried into the depths of his coat opened said garment just wide enough to show the black waistcoat and brown plaid shirt, and the rather large - caliber converted Walker Colt buckled around his hips and over his brown dress slacks (tucked into calf-high cavalry-style boots), in an old-fashioned quickdraw rig.

The newcomer tipped his hat to the ladies present, and ordered a "straight whiskey, three fingers, strongest you've got," in a deep basso voice that sounded not quite human; it was too deep, like a basso parody of a deep voice. When he had downed the drink, he found his voice and spoke again in teh same voice, but somewhat subdued, "What's the year, if you please?"

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

Tilts her head, watching the man. About to reply, she blinks. "Mm. Not entirely sure, to be honest."

[Lord Wraste]

((Sorry all, as Cornelia rarely wanders in here these days, and I'm not going to be near a computer for a while after the end of this week, I'm going to say that I'm out. It's been fun! ))

[CorneliaCarton]

((O.O.C- Cornelia has been busy with work. Be patient, please. I've had a lot on my plate recently. I lost a friend, I've been working stupid hours at work and I have been ill. Today my two friends broke up and I had to pick up the pieces. So please, be patient))

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

(Perfectly fine!)

[MWBailey]

((OOC:no problems on my end, it's just Brantley passing through. New story or continuation of an old one can start off of him or not, whatever fits or whatever anybody wants. Note: This version of Brantley does not know the Clutch's version of MW; somewhat in the vein of Moorcock's Eternal Champion novels, Brantley is now passing through, from the future that could supposedly occur in the Andromeda Effect, to the distant past in the neighboring dimension which holds The Clutch. Yeah. Well, you try watching Dr. Who all your life, and reading Moorcock, and see where your head ends up[lol] ))

[The Corsair]

(OOC: After talks with Cornelia and many apologetic sentences I am bringing a new character to The Clutch. Arthur E. Gatterweld is a rogue mechanic with a tendency to lend his services to pirates and other such lawbreakers)

[CorneliaCarton]

Cornelia nodded, and went about fixing the gentlemans drink.
She turned and placed the drink infront of him.
"That'll be 5 gold, please. Whiskey doesn't come cheap in these parts, Sir" She said, holding out her hand.

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

Alegrah settles onto a bench in the shadows, watching the newcomer with carefully hidden curiosity. Bright emerald eyes seem startling within her pale, heavily smudged features, causing her to look rather feline, and thus worthy of watching carefully.

[The Corsair]

He wandered up to the counter, examining the bar and its patrons
"there be anything like a notice board around here ma'am?" he asked the barmaid in a distinctly Irish accent.

[MWBailey]

"Five gold? You're right, it ain't cheap." Brantley said gruffly, as he fished around in his pocket for the coins. Miss Sally kept him and all her agents monetarily well-supplied in case of just such situations as this, and Brantley finally pulled and shelled out all five of the indicated coinage, but "OoPs!" dropped one on the floor. Within a split second, an odd, apparently tentacle-like appendage shot from beneath his coat, snagged the coin, and pulled it back up within the interior of the trenchcoat almost too fast to be seen. He reached deep under his left armpit and took the coin and laid it in the Lady's palm with the rest. "My pockets're like a toolbin: full of everything except what you want until you don't need it anymore--and then that's all that's in 'em..."

[CorneliaCarton]

Cornelia frowned, but took the money anyway.
"Enjoy" She said, before turning around and continuing to clean the bar.
She heard herself being addressed by another customer and turned to face him.
"Aye, it's over there" She said, pointing to the board to the left of the bar.

[The Corsair]

He strolled towards it
Once he had arrived at his destination he put up a small sign
It read:
Arthur Gatterweld
Mechanic
'Need a quick fix that you don't want the royal mechanics guild knowing about?'

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

She continues to gaze at the newest patron of the bar, her eyes tracking him with a mix of curiosity and a hint of disdain. She seems bored with the lack of action in her surroundings.

[The Corsair]

He didn't fail to notice the woman watching him as he moved.
Without turning to face her he spoke.
"You be havin' need of my services or ya just like me face?" he announced.

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

She remains motionless as she replies, "Neither. Just watchin' to see what'll come of you bein' here, is all. Maybe it'll bring on some excitement. It's bloody borin' 'round here."

[The Corsair]

"nothin's ever borin' m'lady. Look out that window nd you'll see hoards of flying machines, some larger than a street. Under your very table is an amusing gathering of ants. If you look closely enough you can see they're collecting dirt that probably came off the shovel of a graverobber. Details have their surprises, m'lady."
He turned to her now
"could I get you some beverage?"

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

Her eyes narrow faintly at the mention of a grave-robber, eyes flickering back to the shovel she had rested in the shadows. She now takes ahold of it, chin lifting. "I s'pose so. And no. I've 'ad my fix of liquor for the day. I care to keep a straight head upon m'shoulders."

[MWBailey]

Having gotten no answer as to the specific date in effect in his current locale, Brantley fiddled with the black box and with another device, disguised as a relatively innocuous- and cheap-looking crocodile-and-gold cigarette case. Both devices seemed to give off an air of ...well, 'oddness,' for lack of a better word; above and beyond the mere fact of their existence and their improbable appearances, there seemed to be something slightly out-of-kilter about the air around Brantley and the devices, as if a tiny part of another realm were contained in a sort of ultra-permeable 'bubble,' the limits of which affected the light around it like the outer limits of a soap bubble did to anything viewed through it.

He cursed sulphrously and took another swig of his drink, grimaced and reveled simultaneously at the sweet/bitter/firey taste, and did several more things to his devices, closing the cigarette case and opening it up again (and here was a real shocker; a completely different set of instruments showed when he opened the case the second time!)

But it was no good; the best he could manage was a range between 1886 and 1910, Earth Standard time. "Means I'm more off-course than I thought I was," he muttered, swigged his drink again, and pocketed both devices within the depths of his coat, in the special pocket where there seemed to be no bottom and no one but he could access the contents.

"Howdy, miss...?" he asked the beshoveled young lady, and then continued, indicating himself, "Brantley's my name, Malcolm Brantley." He paused, then decided to just ask it straight out. "This'll probably sound really off," he said, "but I have a question, and it's this: Is this the planet Earth or someplace else?"

[The Corsair]

He picked up on the odd gentleman when he heard him question the planet of his existence
"Ya be in none other than the fine United Kingdom of Great Britain. I'm from northern Ireland meself and there be no more a recognisable place in these times. Except Paris maybe, but we don't mention the French..."
He addressed the lady again
"What be yer beverage o' choice? I'm Arthur by the way, Arther E. Gatterweld."

[CorneliaCarton]

Cornelia snorted when the newcomer said "Fine United Kingdom of Great Britain".
"So fine, there are more crimes that go on here in a week than there are in Scotland. Aye. Proud to be part of the United Kingdom" She spat bitterly.
She didn't like the way the country was run, exactly part of the reason why she'd became a pirate in the first place...

[AlegrahEredschtadt]

Her nose wrinkles faintly. "Alegrah Eredschtadt." She shrugs. "I'll take a drink o' whiskey now an' again."