Aug 13 13:54:33 107 PA - Bar Brawl

From Chronicles

Weather at Sun Aug 13 13:54:33 107 PA (34.08C, 93.34F): The heat has arrived. The skies bare of even a hint of clouds as what wind there is teases with the barest of relief. The air so dry it feels like it's actually trying to suck moisture from you if you're outside of EBA. Next you might think you're going to spot a tumbleweed rolling through, right? The new moon is outshone by the sun.

You head into Moe's Tavern. Kingsdale - Moe's Tavern

You enter the smoke filled tavern called Moe's. Music blares from an ancient looking CD Jukebox. Inside is a collection of residents of Dregtown in varying states of intoxication. Juicers, Borgs, City Rats all sitting and drinking side by sde. Of course a few skulls roll from time to time but the Large bouncer standing by the door is over 7 feet tall and looks as if he means business. The places has a musty, old smell and the decor is dingy and yellowed with time. The red carpet on the floors is well worn and the paint is peeling off the walls. Still this don't keep the locals away as Moe's is a favorite.

The long bar, booths against the wall oppostite the bar, and the tables all seem very used, yet are strong...made of some reinforced material that's sturdy enough for the angriest juicer. A vid-screen behind the bar shows the JuicerBall game and the bar is packed with patrons clamoring for a drink...ya see there ain't no waitresses at Moes.

There is a smaller room to the back with a pool table. Not many people use the pool table on the count of the group of men, a few of whick are juicers, who usually play cards in the back room. Finally of interest in the bar is the video poker machines Moe' placed for your convienance. Winnings may be redeamed at the bar. There is also a bathroom door, a back door past the pool table and stairs going up and down behind the bar.

The heat outside brings rising tempers in the bar and there are a few tense moments. At the bar, leaning against it, is a tall woman. Her clothes speak of a mercenary, and her attitude doesn't deny it. She is nursing a bottle of beer and has been for a while now, her attention on it and ignoring those around her. The bar is crowded, lunchtime on a weekend, and the heat in here brings a flush to her cheeks.

"...I reckon it won't explode yet, but I ain't certain it'll -stay- th'way it does now if he keeps droppin' it." Jon steps into the bar, pushing his Stetson back as he does so. "I'd say it's cooler in here, Jim, maybe juuuus' by a mite or two." Wiping sweat from his face, he pushes back an unruly stray bit of hair plastered to his forehead and sneezes. "...An' then again..."

Rebecca hastily enters the bar, doing her best to close the door quickly in an effort not to let in more heat and dust. She looks hot and tired and seems to contemplate going back outside before reaching a decision and making for the bar. She has a large heavy looking rucksack on her back which she doesn't set down even though she's inside now.

James ducks into the bar after Jon, fanning himself with his own stetson the moment he's out of the sun. "Cooler would be good," he replies to Jon, "But I ain't convinced either. Still. Beats bein' out an' about." He too heads for the bar. "Sometimes I reckon as joinin' the skull-heads wouldn't be so bad if they got refrigeration, y'know?"

Charlie reaches out for her bottle, and as the others arrive, her elbow is jogged by a pair pushing each other behind her. She turns, a swivel of her head to provide a vivid description of the man's parentage, his physical limitations and a few other choice words. He takes it as it is to be expected, turning around to face her, and she slides from the perch stool she was occupying. As tall as she is, she doesn't have to look up far to the man and she slides her thumbs on to her gun belt, exchanging beliefs with the man in a tone that bodes for the bar furniture around them.

Jon nods in agreement to James's assertion. He might have said something else, but the argument catches his attention and he glances over at his twin with an arched brow. "Well now. I think we're 'bout t'get us some extra heat," he murmurs, but his mouth twitches in a grin which indicates his own peace of mind is probably as frayed from the heat as the others in the bar. "Don't you go losin' that Stetson now, th'last time t'was a bullet an' -that- weren't called for t'all."

Noting the heated discussion on ancestry happening at the bar Rebecca forgets her thirst and opts instead to head to the far wall, the expectant tone of conversation from Jon giving her slightly more speed then could be said to be dignified. Once at the wall she sets her backpack down with a thump and positions it in front of her, letting it lean slightly against her legs whilst surveying the room with a worried expression.

James returns Jon's look with an arched brow of his own. "Like I'd start usin' bullets first," he points out. "Two holes in that damn hat, one in, one out, an' they were there 'fore I started shootin'." He grins, slightly more tooth in evidence than is entirely necessary as he watches and listens. "Son of a Shoggoth an' a packmule. Have ter remember that one..."

Charlie's expressions lapse swiftly into Spanish insults, her tones rising and the first blow is definitely from her. A punch to the man's jaw, straight from her shoulder, the moment before she brings the bottle around to slam it into his head. The man returns fire, ramming his head into her stomach as he ducks the bottle. The bar staff respond swiftly, removing all valuables from sight and hunkering down.

"That's one good one," Jon agrees, grinning at his brother before moving himself away from the brawling pair. However, luck's not in the draw today - a slightly inebriated sot at the bar jerks his head up as the violence starts, waving like a windmill. "Oy! Oy! Wozzermatter eh?" His enthusiastic gestures wind up sweeping his bottle and drink right across the counter and all over James. "OY! Wannit back!"

As soon as the first punch is thrown Rebecca ducks down slightly and starts to open the top of her rucksack, rifling through her possessions while at the same time trying to keep an eye on the melee around her. Rising again she can be seen trying to palm a pencil thin steel tube which she then lets fall into her hand as a beer bottle hits the wall to her left.

James's grin turns feral as he's covered in alcohol. "I ain't insulted yer, pal, an' you ain't no lady." The black-clad twin stops using his mouth for talking, apparently deciding that fists work much better; he takes a swing at the sot, eyes glittering bright with joy.

Charlie's progress with hers is variable, her man somewhat bigger than her, but she makes up for that by her enthusiasm. "Tu madre es una puta fea!" The insult is spoken in sweet tones, the instant before she aims a knee at that most fragile area of the man, propelling him back into James' sot with a shove of his shoulders as he doubles over.

Jon sighs as James wades into the fray. "An' here I be hopin' for a nice quiet day," he laments. That doesn't stop him from unhurriedly turning around as he's clipped on the ear by a passing flying metal tankard and reaching out to collar the culprit. "Now boy, that ain't -nice-," he chides, ducking a swinging fist and sending the grizzled unfortunate over the bartop and into the bartender, who was just turning around to see how badly things were faring. "Whoops. Right sorry there, ol' fella...Jim! Incomin'!"

The bar seems to be getting a little more active now, the fight seeming to be a welcome distraction from the heat and the dust. Seeing the barman go down she grabs her backpack and starts dragging it over to the service hatch of the bar. Her progress is noted but not impeded, well it isn't once she presses down a stud on the tube in her right hand and a small intense laser leaps from the end leaving a small scorch mark on the now empty floor in front of her.

James ducks aside at Jon's warning, taking the chance to catch up a bar stool while he's at it. Never particularly sturdy at the best of times, the stool's a lot less sturdy when it's been broken over the back of the nearest convenient target - Charley's newest friend. The seat gets thrown into the room at large, rather than at anyone in particular. Bar brawl, a game the whole place can play. And then a crisp, "Jon, five a'clock low."

Charlie shoots James a broad grin of thanks as she applies the bottle of her drink to a man turning to aim a thump at Jon, smashing it over his head with an effort that knocks him out, leaving him to crumple neatly onto the floor. Soon the whole bar is either joining in, or hiding with care beneath tables and making a swift exit.

Jon twists out of the way at James's warning, but Charlie's gotten there first. Acknowledging her with a grin of thanks, he ducks right back into business again and promptly vanishes under a seething tumble of bodies that have gotten tangled up and have nowhere to fall but forward. His pale-garbed arm emerges briefly to deal out some decisive punishment, and then he's submerged beneath the wave of combatants again.

Rebecca finally reaches the barman and after hauling off the now unconscious fighter that landed on him, starts to quickly and efficiently check the barman's pulse, then starts to pat him down checking for either valuables or other injuries.

When Jon vanishes into the scrum, James jumps on top of it. Knees, elbows, fists and feet - he even starts headbutting people in an attempt to get his brother out from the most dangerous place to be. His teeth are still bared in that feral grin, though - he's having a whale of a time.

Charlie shoots Jon a broad grin, her apparently enjoyment of her current occupation obvious as she brings the hilt of a small gun down on the back of someone's head, and applies the boot to the tumble of bodies, seemingly at random. One of those enthused kicks lands squarely on Jon's temple, and the force of it is added to by the glass lying around the floor, which slices him across his scalp.

Chaskey enters Moe's with his nose twitching, nostrils flaring softly. Discerning, almost like a wolf on the scent. And his expression is dour. The noise within carries out some distance and only grows as he pushes in carefully. The hood of his animal bone and hide garment with it's wolf's skull head gives him the silhouette to go with the look. For several moments he lingers near the door, observing the battle before him, though quickly his eyes catch upon Charlie and his expression grows grave. Not surprised, but grave.

The scrum gradually gives way under James's assault, though not without some decided retaliation. Bruises, bloody noses, broken noses and other injuries make themselves felt, and James is likely to get himself a lovely black eye thanks to one of the heavy-set scrummers he's butted out of the way. Jon's upper half emerges briefly as he forces aside one of his attackers, but a fist catches him in the face and he smacks into the floor, going still. The boot to the head and his scalp wound haven't helped matters either.

With the melee 'dying' down, Rebecca risks a look above the bar, dropping down again when someone flies past only to rise once more when it looks safe again. When she has finished doing her impression of the rare bar meer cat, and seemingly happy that no one else is going to fly over and land on her she starts to make her way out from behind the bar, again dragging her backpack behind her.

James gives as good as he gets if not more so, the athletic young man no slouch in a fist fight. But then Jon goes still, and James turns into a whirling dervish of fists and feet in an effort to clear some space around his twin. The renewed onslaught succeeds to at least some degree, even if it does leave James with a second black eye to match his outfit and a nose that'll need straightening if the twins are to remain identical.

Slowly, the flames of battle die down, mostly through a lack of fuel for the flames. Most of those fighting are now down, or falling in front of James' whirling dervish of fists and feet. Charlie is adding to his onslaught, putting in the boot here and there and using the base of her gun on the heads and jaws she can. A glimpse of Chaskey, and her fist hesitates long enough for a man to land one fist against her jaw, tossing her back into a table that was still standing.

Chaske grunts with obvious displeasure, then breaths out a low sigh to wash away that emotion. His mind settling, expression relaxing to quiet stoicism. He slips to the side of the door and centers himself. His eyes half lid and all of those showing hostility and any within and near to that area will feel a subtle, then stronger sensation of peacefulness bleed into their minds. Or try to. His eyes sweep the remains of the brawl slowly, his attention on the area the only hint of the power's use. Those less resistant to psychic assault will be the most vulnerable, but it will reach out to them all to try and replace hostility with tranquility.

With the fight seeming to be over or atleast almost over, Rebecca looks around the bar to find an intact and unoccupied table. Setting right a stool she sits herself down, then opening her backpack once more fishes out a green pack which she sets on the table in front of herself along with a bottle of beer which she opens and starts to sip.

James is only clearing space. When he's cleared enough space to get his brother out of the way of the fight, he does so, moving Jon to a corner whence he can be guarded. James is bleeding, bruised and battered, but mostly just scuffed. Jon's looking rather worse for wear - but part of that will be the white outfit. James' already-dusty black doesn't show the marks nearly as easily.

The tail end of a bar brawl. Charlie lands heavily on the table she was punched at, breaking it in her fall, and with that, the fight seems to settle. The four left standing are bleeding, bruised and battered, and Charlie isn't precisely standing until she scrambles slowly from the remains of the table, using a chair to straighten herself.

As things cool further, Chaske's eyes open fully and he seeks out Charlie where she fell. The others, for now, don't seem to register to him as he walks towards her slowly. He shows little fear of the fight and it's aftermath as he approaches her. "Foolish," he comments, a hand extending to grip her shoulder and help her steady herself. His head cocks, his eyes roaming her in a smooth slide to see that she is not too hurt. "You know I cannot heal you."

Celaeno makes her way into the bar, looking around at the fallout of a just bygone brawl, a frown promptly crossing her face as she begins elbowing her way toward the bar. Collecting a beer, she quickly returns to the epicenter of the altercation with a sharp whistle between her teeth.

Rebecca is halfway though another sip of her beer when she see's Jon being extracted from the pile of combatants, taking her pack from the table in front of her she slowly makes her way towards him. Raising her hands and being careful to make sure her scalpel is switched off she tries to catch James' attention. "Hello? Is it okay if I have a look at your brother? He's not looking too well."

James looks at Rebecca as she approaches. "If you know medicine, please," he replies. "I know he ain't dead, but more'n that..." The words tail off, and James takes a moment to touch his nose experimentally. He leans back against the bar, takes his nose between two fingers and straightens it up; the knuckles of his other hand go white as he grips at the bar.

Charlie gives Chaske a slow blink, some bruising appearing well on her face as she reaches out a hand to use him for balance. "I didn't ask you to." She replies, her tone mildly irritated before she adds, "Someone knocked over my drink." A good enough explanation for the whole devastation of the bar it seems. She glances across at James, and the fallen twin, and Rebecca offering healing. She moves over towards them, speaking softly, "It might be wise to leave here and do it. I should think they might want credits for the furniture if we hang around."

Chaske frowns at Charlie's reasoning, obviously not agreeing with her assessment. But again, not surprised either, as if this is hardly the first time. As she approaches the other three, he turns and follows in her wake silently. "It would have cost less to purchase a new drink," he says, his voice quiet, but firm. "I left food at the room," he adds. "You were not easy to track through this part of the city."

"Oh, they probably will want a few," Celaeno chimes from the edge of the circle, "Credits, that is. But you don't need to worry, all of it's shitty and cheap as hell." She takes a quaff of her drink, glancing as the ownership mills about. "I'm sure they're just running to get the standard form." Such a helpful young lady.

Her focus shifting from her potential patient, Rebecca takes a moment to actually look around the bar. After a moment's calculation she nods her head at Charlie. "You're quite right. James?" Turning to the conscious twin now "You'd best get him up, lets find someone to have a look at him". With this Rebecca heads back to her table where she starts gathering up her belongings.

James looks up at Charlie's arrival. "Miss, you ever heard that song, 'He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother'? Yeah, well, it ain't true. Jon-boy weighs a *ton*. 'Sides, that work I done the other day's gotta be good for somethin', an' if a guy can't get a decent brawl when it's hot an' borin', life ain't worth livin'." But he goes to pick up Jon anyway, albeit with a heavy sigh.

Chaske's reproofs are met with a look of irritation, the woman ignoring them apart from that. "Where do we take him?" She asks quietly, her tone changed entirely from the bar brawl conversations, and she turns towards Celaeno, shooting the other a grin. "Just tell them that the guy down there started it." She points at the poor man who nudged her drink over.

The reproof doesn't seem to bother Chaske, the young man merely returning her look with his own stoic expression. "Far. The streets outside are not safe. It is easy to see." Though he pauses there. Not yet sure of the layout of the city. After a moment he frowns faintly and moves over to the other side of Jon, lending some strength to keeping him stable.

Celaeno's eyebrows lift, "Not my job to tell anybody anything," she says merrily. "Especially since I missed the party." She moves to lean fully against the bar, an obvious outsider to the goings-on, but not apparently bothered by it. "And the streets around here aren't too bad - it's not like you're running around a couple blocks towards the junkyard."

Her rucksack repacked Rebecca says "I'd suggest my place but it's not exactly sanitary there, even the 'roaches' have coughs. Turning now to have another look at Jon she continues "I doubt the gentleman here is going to expire while we decide but I would like to have a proper look at him sooner then later."

James sighs. "He's got a room at a boardin' house not too far from here," he says. "Might as well go there. Or we can stick around here, alcohol's good for makin' sure there ain't no infection, right?" He heaves, and then he's carrying his twin in a fireman's lift. It's just as well James is as tall as Jon - if he wasn't, Jon's feet would be in severe danger of scraping along the ground.

"I can take care of myself." Charlie's reply to Chaske holds an edge of irritation, almost sisterly in nature. She glances between the others, questioningly, "Deciding one way or the other would be good, before your brother comes around." She rests her thumbs on the gun belt, comfortable with it, but waiting for James to decide, the body being his brother.

Chaske shakes his head slightly. "Come," he says, voice firm, but not loud. He steps back as James takes full charge of Jon, then motions towards the door. He seems to have idea enough and at least some determination to lead, if he's followed as he starts to head back towards it. "We have a clean, quiet space," he adds simply.

Celaeno keeps to herself for the moment, her hands sliding to her belt as she overlooks the progress in making the decisions. She finishes off her beer as her other hand produces a cigar, and then a lighter. A moment is taken to light it, the beer is slid across the bar, and she shifts forward - still toward the edge, but close enough to readily follow along should the group make an exit. Puff, puff.

"That sounds perfect" Rebecca says nodding her head at Chaske. Taking a moment to shoulder her rucksack she says "Shall we?" turning her head to James. That said she starts to make her own way towards the exit."

James nods to Chaske. "Thanks," he says. "Clean an' quiet sounds real good right now." He follows Rebecca to the door, letting her pick a path through the devastation. It's a significant effort to get through the doorway, what with having to duck, twist and move sideways all at the same time, but he does manage it, and then it's off towards Charlie's suggested place.

Charlie shoots Chaske a look before she too turns towards the door, following the parade towards the bedroom she and Chaske shares. Evading the cost of rebuilding the bar that has been destroyed with a practiced ease. She doesn't offer to help carry the fallen comrade.

Happy Days Inn - Charlie and Chaske's Room

Built for almost any taste, the Happy Days Inn is there to accommodate, no matter your desire. For the individual on a budget it offers what is essentially a closet with a small ventilation window. Sporting just enough room for the single bed and enough room for door clearance and moving, there is one bathroom (complete with shower facilities) per floor. The next step up in the Happy Days catalog features your choice of two twin beds or one queen in a medium-sized 'studio' arrangement, including closet-space and a built in bathroom. As you continue up the sliding scale of affluence, there are additional options added to the layout (and bill), with availability of a kitchenette, living area, more equipped bathroom, all the way up to the Penthouse sweets. Consisting of three different bedrooms all sporting large King-sized beds all connecting to a central communal area with a fully equipped kitchen offshoot, the penthouse has every luxury one could imagine including a beautiful panoramic view of Kingsdale. It should be noted that all Happy Days suites are fully furnished while arrangements for one to bring in their own furnishings may be considered for those committed to an extended stay. Additionally, maid-service except in special circumstances do check every room either daily or weekly, to both ensure cleanliness and sanitation. In hazardous situations or destruction of property is met with little flexibility though once again as one becomes a more permanent resident, there may be exceptions.

Though he notices Cel coming along with, he decides to allow it as he doesn't contest her trailing along. Though he doesn't look all that happy with the situation as a whole. The room that they arrive at, in the HDI, is a clean, single bed room. Low cost, low frills. Its own bathroom being the highlight. Though in one corner a collection of blankets has been formed into a simple, modstly comfortable sleeping space where a backpack and saddle bags are set near. Another set of bags is also in the room. Chaske steps in first, his eyes flicking about the room before he lifts his head and draws back the skull adorned hood, moving aside to let others enter after him.

Celaeno follows along, chipper and amused by the situation at large, and if nobody else is going to make an issue of her tagging along, then far be it for her to call attention to it. Along the way she slowly works her cigar down, though there are still a good several inches upon their arrival, and as she crosses the threshold into the room she produces a flask, draining off a small nip. She moves off to the side to eye the room at large, smiling obliquely at the world.