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

[The Corsair]

(ooc it was just a time kill tbh)

"Cornelia, howabout we smooth things over. Besides, Abigail is still somewhere out there and I'm sure you don't want to leave her to die..."
the silence hung forebodingly...

[MWBailey]

Bailey holstered the Mauser, rolled his eyes, and prepared to stand guard until things calmed a bit. It seemed he always got into situations like this, guarding the door while people evened things up. I'm supposed ta be a cap'n, even had a ship 'til that damn' idiot blew it up, but I keep gettin' stuck guardin' the doors of asylums, he muttered away in his own head...

[Lord Wraste]

The man with the single-malt turned to the gent with the gun.

Now settle on down, soldier. No need to go flashing a hot iron in front of the lady. He said, completely ignorant of all that has passed before. Why not just relax for a moment and we can see if this can be settled peaceably.

He set his drink on the bar and sat relaxed.

[MWBailey]

Having already holstered teh Mauser,Bailey glances around, sees no one with an iron, and sidles up to Wraste. "Pardon my sayin' so, yer Lordship, but there's not anybody in here ironin' anythin'; 'sides, what's laundry got tae do with it?

(ooc:  )

[The Corsair]

"besides feeling a bit washed up, nothing"
the men shared a chuckle
"so what, my good sir, brings you to the clutch?" he asked the man with the single-malt.

[Lord Wraste]

He turns to Baily, an old compatriot form "The Bovine Incidents" and raises a sardonic eyebrow.
Har har, chap.
Addressing Corsair, et all.

My favorite bar up the street closed, and I was thirsty. Heard the Clutch was a fun place to stop by.

Though, oddly, the moment I put my hand on the door time and space seemed to go a bit sideways and I don't think that I'm in the same neighborhood anymore....

[MWBailey]

Different neighborhood, and a different cabinet, so to speak. It's sort of like a T.A.R.D.I.S., except different parts go to different times, some exist all the time in different times and dimensions, and --!

Er, sometimes cows and mules walk through The Clutch on their way to the barn...

*pulls bullwhip out of pocket and screams, "YA MULE!" And herds the animals out*

CRACK!

CRACK!

---
Several Really Horrible Puns (including the ones about 'getting long little doggies') later...

[The Corsair]

A well lubricated corsair pulled out a chunky cigar and asked for a light
it was then that he realized Bailey had removed his weapons
too drunk to care, he told a bad joke about inbred mice (if you find a mouse in your bread pantry etc etc)

[Indefinitive]

The door to the bar opened and closed with a creak and a click, and a young woman stood in the shadowy doorway for a moment before making her way to the bar. The heels of her boots made a soft thud with every step across the room, and her long, dusty coat billowed out on either side, buttons undone down the front. As she walked, she pulled at her leather gloves, picking at each finger before pulling them off and tucking them into her belt. When she reached the bar, she took a seat one down from Wraste, and looked up at the barkeep. One green eye gazed at her, while the other remained hidden behind a black eye-patch, and her jaw-length rust-colored hair appeared windblown, only accentuated by the strap of the eye-patch, folding parts of her hair in the wrong direction so they stuck up in odd places.

"A gin and tonic, if you please, love." Her voice was perhaps in the alto range, and she gave the barkeep a smile as she spoke, but one would easily get the feeling that it wasn't quite genuine.

[The Corsair]

The silence hung ominously...
All eyes were on the newcomer and a newfound sobriety seemed to grip the men who had been as lubricated as any bar goer not 10 seconds before
Feeling brave, mainly due to the alcohol steadily flowing through his system, the corsair turned to her
"See those two weevils on the counter?" He pointed to said weevils, one was slightly larger than the others "If forced to make the decision, which weevil would you choose?"

[Sandpunk]

Brother Byron counted the white stones in the cobbles as his boot heels clicked along. The typical black suit of his faith was greying and dusty and a tattered rust colored scarf barely hid the high white collar.  A thin blue trail of smoke streamed behind him as he tried to talk around the crumpled ciggarette on his lips.

"I know what your captain said Rhoam, and I told you I'd be no more than a week at the most." his voice was rough beyond his habits and years. He croaked at the mountainous vaguely man shaped quilt of a cloak that clanked and screached as it followed him, "I need to see Father Hammish, and you" He gestured with his right hand as he pulled the burning tube from his mouth, a small plume of smoke rising about his ears, "well you need to see a qualified 'mechanic'." Flicking the smouldering ciggarette away he let a woman pass between him and his companion, one eye shining behind the thin rimmed glasses watching her enter his intended destination.

"But..." the choked word was more the grinding of metal than voice and was cut short by the brown haired priest.

"Go on then, I'll be fine." He turned away from his friend pushing his way into the bar and letting the door swing creakily closed behind him. One hand on his holy text and the other on the hilt of the small flintlock dagger that rode his hip.

[Indefinitive]

The woman turned in her chair, and her expression was rather severe as she studied the drunken man for a long moment in silence. And then she spoke.

"Well, typically, the bigger one. Can't ever collect a decent bounty on small-fry, you know. But, seeing as a weevil is just an insignificant insect, and isn't useful to anyone, it would be a waste of time to choose, would it not?"

When her drink was set in front of her, she took a long sip, and slouched back in her chair. "Why do you ask?"

Then the door opened, and she turned her gaze to the door, giving the man a glance and inclining her head slightly to acknowledge him. Then she turned back to her drink.

[The Corsair]

He looked at her, face a tombstone of seriousness. Suddenly his expression broke down
"because when deciding, one must choose the lesser of two weevils!"
at that, raucous male laughter rang around him

(ooc, thank you so much for playing along )

[CorneliaCarton]

Cornelia nodded in greetings to the newcomer. She knew him.
She then turned to Douglas.
"You've had enough to drink" She said. She then turned to the other patrons.
"If someone would be so kind as to escort this gentlemen to the hotel down the street, it would be greatly appreciated. If I find that any harm has come to him, though, your head will be on the platter" She said, adding the warning with a serious look on her face.

((Gotta go. Friend is getting his first tattoo))

[The Corsair]

((dw, as it is, I'm buying time to wait for ruix so we can continue the previous narrative))

"How dare you accuse me of being drunk! I'm not drunk, I'm conversationally lubricated!"
Nevertheless, he was still marched out the door without incident
Once at the hotel with a room safely paid for, Bailey handed him his weapons in their deconstructed form.

[ScytheKnight]

With only a little noise a tallish wirerily muscled man slips into the bar, He's dressed in a long leather duster over otherwise serviceable heavy-duty clothing, a close fitting hat and removed a pair of shaded goggles from his face letting them hang from their strap in front of his neck. His eyes quickly survey the room, pausing momentarily on each person as he sizes them up. A leather case for what appears to be some kind of rifle is slung over his back while a pair of heavy caliber revolvers can occasionally be glimpsed under his duster.

He takes a corner table with his back to the walls and signals for a drink before taking out a cigarette and lighting it.

"Evening gentlemen, and ladies of course" He says in a lose English accent before taking a drag from his cigarette.

[Lord Wraste]

((OOC: I don't seem to be online the same time as most of the people playing, so don't worry about it if I get lost in the shuffle. I only came in for a drink anyway. ))

Chuckling at the terrible joke, the very average looking gent finished off his single-malt and turned to the lady sitting next to him at the bar
Ehem, Nice boots. He said in a jokingly, a smirk tugging the right corner of his mouth

[Indefinitive]

She stared at the man for a long moment, as if wondering if he were a complete lunatic, or only half of one, and then chuckled into her drink as he left.

She turned as the door opened again, and nodded to acknowledge this man as well before turning her gaze to the gentleman next to her. "Thank you, sir, but they're only a pair of plain boots."

And that they were. They were brown leather, and their only real details were that they laced to the knee, and had a low heel.

"Is it always this busy?" She glanced at the barkeep, addressing both her and the gentleman next to her.

[Lord Wraste]

I'm not sure. This is my first time in here. Good service though. *Grin*

He realized that his flirting quip must be a cultural one, and that this young lady from another land may not have heard of it before. A shame that, as he still thought it funny regardless and smiled to himself.

I'm new to the area, name is Wraste¹. He offered his hand





¹Rhymes with past, not paste.

[Indefinitive]

She quirked an eyebrow as he seemed to smile at some internal joke, but smiled slightly and shook his hand anyway. "Alice. Pleased to meet you... what brings you to the area?"


((Gabriel, please tell me you don't use that line IRL. ))

[Lord Wraste]

Wraste took Alice's hand and gave her a wink as he squeezed it in a firm yet friendly manner.

My favorite bar closed down. Seems there was a ruckus with the owner and some girl he shouldn't have gotten involved with. Shame that, it was a fun little dive. I heard tell the The Clutch served a good measure in a glass and that the people that showed up were colorful, so I walked on down.

What brings you in?

((I did, thank you. And it worked, I'll have you know! ))

[Indefinitive]

"Should not have been involved with, hm...? Think the owner would be the type to put a bounty on her pretty little head for smudging his reputation?" She looked at him out of the corner of her left eye, her working eye, and a small smirk appeared on her lips before she drained her glass, and motioned for another one. One would note that she simply didn't answer his question, clearly avoiding it altogether with a change of subject.

((Kidding, kidding! And I really don't see how a line like that would work... Charisma of 18, I tell you. ))

[Lord Wraste]

Ah, well. I heard he's not the type to seek satisfaction unless things really go pear-shaped. But never the matter. It's closed and done.
Wraste paid for Alice's round, and ordered another for himself.
I'm also looking for a job. Been bored and need something to do. I still have the means to take care of myself regardless, but there's nothing like having a job to take your mind off the hours.



((It's all about context. If the girl has really nice boots, and thinks you're cute to begin with, then that's just a very bold invitation for something she was thinking of anyway. Context, darling, context.))

[MWBailey]

Bailey walked back from the hotel, replacing the various tools he had used to disassemble Douglas' wristlet weapons in their various places in his clothing, and the stopped, poked the wings out of teh sleeves in the shirt, waiscoat and trenchcoat, and

--stopped as an all-too-familiar voice accosted him from several yards back.

"OI! BAILEY! STOP ROIGHT THERE! WOTCH BUSINESS! and Bailey heard the sound of Detective Corporal Norris' large-caliber snub-nosed revolver being cocked, first half-cock, then full, followed by the faint, barely-audible sound made by a leaf spring, held in tension, and being shaken slightly by a nervous hand: piingggiinnggwinngniinnnggg....

"Easy, Corp Norris, I'm not pullin' pr holdin' any weapons! Wahts the problem?"

"Whats the problem? whats the bloody frickin problem? Try FOUR corpses in Poe Street, bullet 'oles all in one and nothin but 'LECTRICAL burns oin the rest, you seen in Lime'ouse shootin' backit sommat in th' fog, then climbin' the crates in a backalley whilst 'aulin a man bound 'and n' FOOT?! Whatinna hell you doin, Sonny Jim? Troiyin Ter start yer own morgue?

"He started it, I was just carryin' him bound and unconsciuous back ter th' Clutch, so we could sober teh fool up! he was convinced I was some auld enemy o' his!


----------------
Bqaiey and Norris finally parted company and Bailey returned to teh Clutch just in time to hear Gabriel as he complained about his joblessness.

"Job? I could use one too, along with a ship to sleep aboard of. Damned engineer blew mine to kingdom come last night, or so said the people I sh--!" he paused abrubtly, and noticed how many peoploe were in teh bar, and how many were looking at him. "Er, that I showed th' way 'ome to...

[The Corsair]

After a short sleep, a large coffee and some regained sobriety, the corsair headed out armed with a wallet to buy the screwdrivers and tinker toys he would need for repairs before he had to check out of the hotel. The large cut on his wrist that his concealed blade had made the previous night stung.
I can't use that thing as often as I do...

Once back in his room with the necessary tools he set about repairing his weapons, cleaning them as he went. The hard concentration somehow eased his dizzy head and once he was done he checked out, purchased a new coat then headed for The Clutch...