Sibling

This is a shout out to GM Patrice. I was stuck in Freakalympics this AM with tons of invisible objects and untargetable (blocked) enemies. GM Patrice replied to my /bug in about two minutes, and saved the day with minutes to spare before servers went down.

GM's are teh r0xxxxxxx0r!

((OOC: Killed is a little strong, but I hate running the place alone, so I was waiting for some feedback ))

Gal was just slightly on edge tonight, knowing who was supposed to be in town. She was still slightly drained from her recent adventure to another world. She was still concerned for her partner, who had been far worse off than she was. She had a temper, and had lost the enchanted tiara that had for years been a buffer to her anger. Lastly, she had received word from Martin that a gentleman was questioning the one thing she considered herself good at.

Her stride was purposeful, and soaked up distance at a frightening pace. Directly towards the pale man, who she also knew had come armed, but had been respectful to hear Vegas tell it.

Halfway to the table, she noticed the same man Martin was now greeting. He was exactly the way she remembered him: Tall, broad and country. She'd grown up in a place where you were either country or you were city. Her direction lurched and she headed for the podium.

"Cousin," he said as her shadow fell over Martin, "Nice place you got here."

"It is, and I plan for it to stay that way." The podium, Martin, the background noise, it all melted away as she said it. As only family could, he set her on edge.

It was a ritual, Gal realized. She was relatively new to the Order, compared to Gemini or Sibling, and her knowledge of the arcane parts of the Sisters was not that advanced. Still, every Sister had to learn the past of the Ladies, there were studies that had no bearing on being heroes: History, Politics and more. It was a way to create the society in which they lived, knowledge of the outside world that enabled them all to fit in when they were on missions.

At one time, men dueled. Sometimes with swords and others with guns, but there were rules, tightly governed. It was barbaric, to settle disputes with violence, every Sister would agree, but there were times. Feuds were settled, even among the Ladies, but never with mortal intent. What this person was proposing was a duel, and the rules as she knew them demanded names be exchanged.

He called himself “The Merlyn”, and that name even children in East St. Louis knew from legend. The Ladies learned a little different history, one more tightly bound to their own past, one that she had heard during her first hour on the Island. She glanced to Gemini, who did not take eyes off the man, but nodded in answer to Gal’s unspoken question.

“Yes,” he said, drawing Gal’s eyes again, “She knows me, as does this daughter of mine,” motioning to Gypsy, as she stood with her head bowed. “Even that one,” an absent gesture to Sibling’s crumpled form, “knew me.

“I am the last pure son of the Old People, and you are welcome to try me. The terms are no weapons, and you have stated it is to the death. Who are you?” His tone, his sneer, both were enough to narrow Gal’s eyes.

“I’m Mistress Gal ‘O War, Leslie Brown, daughter ah’ Lady Irmtraud and partner to Sibling, Sister ah’ the Order an’ I don’ need no damn weapon tah’ break you.” With a casual swing, the massive cudgel she carried landed against the wall. Gemini was a moment too slow, her hand sweeping up in a warding gesture meant to forestall Gal.

“No!”

As the steel wrapped handle left Gal’s grip, she felt something move in the room, like the wind had picked up. Her entire form was stone, so dense the marble cracked where she stood. The giantess’ arm remained stretched out, not lowering, against her will.

Babette stood in shock in the doorway, Tasha the same across the room, neither in any danger so long as they remained unnoticed.

“Stupid woman.” The robed man’s eyes sparkled with insanity, his voice close to cackling with glee. “So like that fool who turned me away, so ready to believe in the goodness of humanity, the rightness of justice.”

Gal could do nothing but listen. Her body would not obey, not an eyelid, not a finger. She was frozen as surely as if Narshawn had placed her into a block of ice. The man held her, she knew it, somehow being able to control her body.

“I am master of the four elements, as they were in ancient times.” He raised an arm, and she could see that even though his face was vibrant, beneath the robes he was withered and drawn like old leather. “Earth, Air, Water and Fire all obey my commands. How stupid of you to challenge me, made of stone and completely mine to command.”

***********

Gemini was still crouched, waiting for any opportunity and somewhere in her mind cursing that Gal had thrown away the one ward against his powers. The sword she held was the only reason she still lived, she knew that. So long as she held the weapon, his powers were weakened against her.

Her sword was ancient, forged by one of the greatest swordmakers ever to live, and enchanted as well. The blade was several hundred layers of folded and forged steel, nearly unbreakable, but it was the Tsuba, the small handguard, that was protecting her. That was forged of cold iron, and that was one thing no Fey could bear the touch of, and no Fey magic could affect. Gal’s cast-aside weapon was wrapped in the same material, and she had fallen for the magician’s ploy to leave it.

The man pointed a hand towards Gal, who rose like a balloon and pivoted to face the wall. She did not see his smile, the feral nature of his teeth as her body hovered, then tilted until she was parallel to the floor.

*Gemini, NOW!* Reflexes buried below conscious level tensed the scrapper’s legs, sword pivoting back like a scythe blade.

Gal’s body speared into the wall, driven by the madman’s powers. She was aware of everything, but unable to move or even speak. She did not see Gemini spring, didn’t see Gypsy flash out of existence by her powers, she only saw the wall and felt the impact, then things went dark.

********

Sibling did not move, Cliff thought it better if they didn’t try, too much hurt and he really didn’t want to know how bad it was. The tornado of stone and glass had been more than his powers could handle, some had gotten through, and bit by bit, they had broken. It would have been over, until the others came in, so they had played opossum until now.

The Merlyn could kill Gal, easily, no matter how angry she was. He could kill them all, and likely never expend a fraction of his strength. Cliff knew from Angela, from years of study, that there were things akin to gods that walked on the Earth, and elsewhere. They were ageless, immensely powerful and appeared in legends.

The Merlyn was one of them. And no one in this room had a hope of stopping him. Once he had escaped from Earth, he could use his powers and Morgaine could not stop him. That was the balance to his strength, that his teacher, The Lady, was as far above him, as he was above any of them. Now, Sibling could not imagine how they planned to survive, but they would not surrender.

When his attention was distracted, Sibling sent the mental message to Gemini, knowing he had weaknesses, but that there were few chances to use them. As Gal’s mass turned the stone wall to rubble, Gemini struck.

*****

It was a lethal blow, the blade should have removed his head from his shoulders. One enchantment of Winter Blossom was that the edge could not be dulled, it could cleave between the very atoms of a material. Gemini’s skill brought the edge into perfect contact with The Merlyn’s throat, passing straight over the artery at the side…and sliding away without drawing blood.

She was moving so fast, Sibling’s telekinesis giving her extra momentum, that she would not realize until after the fact that the blade would not cut him. All thirty inches of blade simply skimmed over his flesh, until the cold-iron Tsuba reached the bare skin.

A flash and howl, one of his hands went to his throat, the other caught her leg below the knee. He was fast, too fast for Gemini now that surprise was lost. She had time to realize that he lived, but sounded wounded, before he swung her into the floor by her leg. Blossom flew from her nerveless fingers, clattering against the marble and spinning near where Gypsy had stood a moment before.

****

Gypsy could feel his magic build, and she saw Gal lift from the floor. She had no choice, by the laws her family had sworn to ages ago, she could not fight this man. The laws did not say she had to help him, only that she could not raise a hand to him. As his powers moved Gal, she chose to activate her speed, watching the world slow to a crawl.

She sped past the motionless Gemini, grabbing Babetta and the other young woman from the doorway. They would not know immediately that they were moving, her powers affected only her. Down the hallway, to safety she raced, the only option she had.

Gemini was incredibly fast, one of the reasons she was unrivaled in her profession. She was still only an awesomely trained woman though, with some magical tattoos to augment her skills. Her movements would be hard to follow for expert combatants, and when she danced, what she called her style, it was simpler not to look. Still, she was only a martial human.

Gypsy’s Queen came from the old families, the Romanese from the plains and hills of what is now known as Eastern Europe. Her lineage quite literally descended from the original human stock that had lived in the Carpathian Mountains. Those people remembered the old ways, and her father had been the last King of Gypsies, passing on his knowledge and magic before his death.

In the ways of life, so many things seem to reach points where different things share very common bonds. As she raced through the building, pausing and allowing the others to catch up, or fending off curious staff with distractions so the group could pass unseen, something she had never felt before nagged at her mind. It was like a half-remembered thought or experience. Deja-vu some called it.

As she wielded the magic that made her fast, or strong or her uniform hard as steel, the feeling grew. Every casting of spells seemed to brush against it, tugging a little more at her thoughts. It was unsettling, but she knew her duty and could not let it distract her. Whatever it was, she would remember it or it would pass.

Gemini looked sideways at the masked woman at the next corner, the katana at her side unbloodied. She was glad for that, and hoped it would stay that way until she could sheath it again, only drawing a drop of her own blood. Something about Gypsy, the way she frowned, seemed out of place. Now was not the time.

Gal motioned, asking for the Asian’s attention. No one would speak, the chance of being overheard still too high, even after what seemed like miles of corridors. Gemini had not heard from Osmella, and did not know if anyone other than Sibling was here. Something interfered with the mental links, and the small group here simply did not know what went on outside.

The huge tanker signed to Gemini, the mental connection between Gal and Sibling stronger and closer than with Osmella. A signal all Sisters learned: Hurry, and another: Trouble.

The tiara Gal wore had gone from dull red in the main stone to blood color, and blazed like a light. It showed the woman’s worry and anger. They were getting closer.

***********************

Angela recognized the creature that appeared before them, but only because one other Sister had ever seen it. Like opening an ancient book and seeing a face there, then glancing up to the person standing in front of you and seeing that face. What should have been dust, and stone and dust again with age, the being facing them with the grim smirk should have long been dead.

“So, then, you do recognize me,” the lined, but fiercely vibrant face split in a smile with no mirth. “I can smell the stench of your home on you. I wasn’t even sure if she still lived, after all that happened as I was exiled here.”

He did not move, other than to casually cross his arms, confidence and arrogance rolling off him. His outfit was understated, for someone of this power, just a dark purple robe and belt tie at the waist. The sleeves were wide and open, the bottom hem brushing the floor, a subtle flash of runes embossed into the material flashing as it moved around him.

“I recognize you, [censored] son,” Cliff’s rumble came from the slight female form of Sibling. It usually took a moment for someone to catch that, but this being had seen far stranger, and channeling was a daily thing. The twin’s fists clenched, they already knew mental powers would not harm this thing, a black hole where any living mind would be bright.

“It’s good to be remembered, it gives power.” With the last word, it wasted no more time.

The marble floor turned liquid and hardened around Sibling’s feet. Cliff threw up telekinetic barriers barely in time to deflect chunks of stone and glass as columns broke and the windows shattered. A whirlwind of debris focused on the controller, unable to flee or move from the stone manacles on their feet. Angela had retreated into their mind, and Cliff knew it would not be long, not against this thing.

Tasha stayed in her chair, still stunned, as pieces of debris whistled around her. She had been a puppet from the start, all of them had been. They had followed this thing, in human guise, through a portal and onto this world, years ago. It had been an opportunity for the creature, anywhere on Earth, exercising it’s powers would have brought unwanted attention. It had waited, hiding, until arriving here and using Tash, Par and others as pawns to rebuild it’s powers.

********************

Osmella sensed Irmtraud and the others as they approached, ahead of the oncoming defense forces in powered armor. It was better than wearing radios, as thoughts flowed instantly. Almira was already planning, and the groups met, fountain between them and the trolls and dwarves that approached.

Seconds were all it took, as the groups formed teams, each knowing it’s jobs.

The seniors grouped together: Almira, Irmtraud, Lupa, Sharon and Mer. The other Ladies and younger members would handle the possible threat of the forces approaching, though now more cautiously. Osmella would stay and coordinate, translate and act as their link to the smaller group led by Almira.

“Ada,” Irmtraud said as he finally arrived, “You should stay here.” Her voice could sound like thunder, like a command, but her tone was more concerned than was normal and came across more as a serious plea. “What is there,” She pointed with one massive hand to the shattering windows, “Is an old danger to us.”

The other seniors unsheathed weapons, Irmtraud accepting a warhammer from a younger Mistress who bowed low in handing it over. Sharon twirled the special Kukri, massive knives able to cleave trees and stone, one in each hand. Lupa stood, stretching her back and Mer simply stood, like the statue she appeared to be. Almira kept her own council, head bowed. Ada got the feeling this was not going to be easy, whatever it was.

“If things go badly,” she looked down into Ada’s eyes, “Fight if you like, but I would tell you flee.” She rested one hand on his humanly-broad shoulder. “This threat has made waste of entire countries.”

The water in the fountain boiled around Mer, Osmella stepped to Almira, a hurried departure, but they all had tasks ahead.

“Be well,” the blonde mentalist said to her mentor, Almira, “Do good.”

*******************************

Par led Diva through a maze of passages, heading to what was the living quarters. Neither had any idea of what went on outside. The being in the throne room above blocked most telepathy, and the mass of the building blocked noise and vibration.

A group of glistening servants and clones followed Diva, she would not be caught unawares. A barred door, unlike the others in this hall caught her attention. She paused and called Par back.

“What is here?” She asked, her voice already taught.

“That’s the holding cells, where we keep the commoners,” he said, a moment later realizing who he was talking to. “The talented who won’t serve,” he said a moment later, seeing the fury in the tall, green woman’s eyes.

“Let’s go there, shall we?” Her balled fist in his collar helped to persuade him.

***************************

Gypsy, far ahead of the group now, saw motion ahead, the crack of a tall door near the end of this marble hall. The sounds of destruction had been in her ears for some time, funneled down the stone corridor. Gemini and the rest were minutes behind, the way they moved, and she could not help but sprint ahead and see what they faced. She told herself it was only the right thing to do.

Normally, her speed precluded anything seeing her unless she stopped. She could run right past villains and foes, and not even be noticed, and she counted on that to be the case here. Never-the-less, she muttered a spell beneath her breath, her clothing forming a steel shell against injury.

An aged man was her first sight, hands at his sides in a deep purple robe, a somewhat calm smile on his face. He saw her, almost as though he knew she was coming. Behind him, a swirling mass of rock and glass obscured something, but it moved too fast to see what was at it’s heart. The voice she heard came from him, clear and accented.

“Ah, I see that magic has not been forgotten, either. Welcome, daughter of the Old People.” He said the last in Romanese, a word Gypsy would have sworn no one outside the Families would know. She stopped, stunned.

“Yes, I know your people, I know where you are from,” he continued. His voice held no aggression, no offense, as though he spoke to an old friend. “I taught your people the magic you use now.”

Now she knew what the memory she felt was. This was old magic, this person felt like old magic. Like the scrolls she had carried from her home when she left, the parchment that was centuries old. She could sense his power, and could sense that what he said was true. He was the first teacher.

“Aye,” he said, while the wind behind him whirled faster. “When the Fey first arrived in the mountains, I was there. I taught your grandfathers, and they wrote what I said. Your family owes allegiance to me, according to the old laws.”

She knew what he said was true, that her allegiance was to family before anything else, the line of her blood. This man would have been the first of that line, the first Gypsy, and through that, she owed her life to him. It did not take a moment for her to decide.

“Welcome,” the man said, speaking to someone behind Gypsy, such that she turned to see. Gemini crouched in the doorway, her blade, Winter Blossom, held above the floor. A noise from down the hall signaled the others approaching.

“Blasphemer,” Gemini spat. Moving out of the door on her toes, ready to move quickly. She literally did not feel fear, of anything, but she did know when she was outmatched.

The whirlwind wound down behind the man as Gal and the others reached the opening, an effect intentional in it’s timing. Gal’s eyes widened, then narrowed, her tiara stone flaring like a flashbulb.

“Sib!” She screamed, watching the bloody and broken form of her partner slump to the floor, feet still wedged in solid pools of stone. Her gaze flicked over the tiny man, so unassuming.

“I will kill you,” her voice broke at the end.

“Ah, YOU don’t recognize me then,” he gloated.

“Gypsy, come here,” Gemini said, softly but no question of the order.

“I think not, swordswoman,” he crossed him arms again, an arrogant gesture he intended. “She is mine, according to the Old Laws.” When the dark-haired woman failed to move towards them, the small group of Ladies knew the truth of what he said. The sorrow on her face, the apology in her eyes was like salt in a wound to Gal. Gypsy was siding with him.

“I’ll kill you both,” stone crusted over her, Gal fracturing the tile underfoot with her increased mass. “I’ll have you brought back, and then I’ll kill you again.”

He laughed, really laughed at her.

“Oh my,” he said as Gal’s tiara flamed. “If I died every time I heard that,” he paused, considering. “Well, perhaps you would care to try?

“According to the old rules, though, I should know your name. I am The Merlyn.”

Narshawn considered for a moment, filling tumblers and glasses for the bar.

"The Ladies are simply a group of like-minded women, not all are powered, but many are. We all aspire to peace, a balance of things. We are all 'Sisters', that belong to the group, with different levels of seniority.

"We watch over each other, and provide assistance to the City in times of need. The Sisters have existed for a long time, but prefer to work simply as good citizens, not as a public force. We were granted sovereign rights because of several Sisters' help during the Rikti Invasion." She smiled, showing her pointed, meshing teeth like a shark's.

"You wouldn't know us unless you knew we were part of the Order. We don't wear identifying clothes, except for official meetings, which do happen."

Martin returned to the front, an invisible smirk lingering from Gal's reaction to the request for sauce. Even now, she would be wiping her hands on a towel and going to discuss the matter with the albino.

The older Englishman felt the doors open, and raised his head from the notes he was taking concerning reservations. He had a power of observation few could match, and an ability to size up a situation which made his position perfect for him. His eyes traveled from the floor to the man's head quickly, but it was a long journey.

Slightly scuffed Roper boots, the edges of his jeans looking a little worn, but serviceable above the leather footwear. A wide, woven belt and buckle more like a garbage can lid than a fastener in size. Western cut, broad-striped shirt wrapped around massive arms and a huge chest, and ending around a bull-neck and wide face some six plus feet off the floor. Not as tall as Gal, but very tall for a human.

"Good evenin'," the man drawled, looking from side to side, taking in the room. He placed one huge hand on the podium, possessively. "I'm here to see Leslie."

Martin could think of one person who matched this description, and would use the owner's first name. At least he was dressed, whether it matched Martin's propriety or not.

Narshawn watched, learning like a robot, because later, she would be able to replicate the measures. Eidetic memory and photographic, handy to have at times.

When the woman finished, she could see the satisfaction in her face.

"Thank you, but alcohol is not healthy for me." A closed lipped smile. She had never seen the irony in being put in charge of the bar, but being unable to drink. She had always considered it a way to prevent loss, and keep someone with a clear head.

She caught sight of Gertrude passing through the tables. A few patrons had placed orders, which the waitress left at her station. Narshawn would fill them, and the older woman would pick them up later. They made a good team, even if Narshawn had little patience for Gertrude's manners.

"Long as we're clear," Vegas said, motioning back to the dining room. "Enjoy your dinner, sir."

*************

"Regarding the crudités, any sauce will suffice...although I'd prefer bagna cauda if the chef knows the recipe."


"Indeed, sir," Martin said in his finest servant-of-an-upper-class house tone. "I shall inquire." Turning smartly, he headed first to intercept Gal, who was on her way back to the kitchens, and then to the cellar for the wine.

A smile he did not show crept through his mind at giving Gal the request.

Katarin did not say what would likely have happened to someone the young girl's size, where she was from. She tried not to think too often of what had happened to many people during her life there.

She smiled, which was a pleasant feeling. What would it have been like to be able to grow up like this? She was envious. No lock step, no forced schooling, no fealty to the state; just a sense of freedom.

She actually touched the girl's hand as she sat down. "Thank you, Miss. Please have a good meal." Then, she walked back to the front, feeling far more than she had before.

((OOC: That feeling is simply FEELing, like sitting in a park and suddenly realizing there are birds chirping.))

"I am of average height, where I come from," Katarin said, leading the young woman to a table near Gal's platform. Taller was always better, in her world, and being less than proper height was generally seen as a defect.

"Babetta will be your waitress, and she will be by momentarily. Is there anything I can do for you now?" She stood erect, stiff at times. Learning friendly conversation was one of the reasons her SG had sent her here. That and they owed Gal several favors.

Several tables away, in a booth, sat a dark-skinned woman swirling a stirrer in her tea, and a few steps back, near the planter sat a man in a peculiar costume. Huge, exotic plants leaned out from the carved stone of the massive planter, lending a more open atmosphere to the room.

The place was filling rather quickly, and the noise level had risen slightly. The smells of good food and cooking wafted through the air.

((OOC: Babetta will be back as soon as she gets the order into the kitchen, Katarin can help with anything you need right away. Otherwise, enjoy the surroundings!))

"You called me, Martin?" Vegas stood in an easy way, the sort of stance old martial arts masters have. The proper Englishman was a few inches taller, but appeared less imposing than the dark-haired woman. The man in the suit standing nearby, he towered over Vegas, at least physically.

"I do have the proper license for them, in case you're wondering. Do you have a lock box I can store them in."

Vegas appraised the set up, and even without vast knowledge of firearms, knew what they were. The rig was professional, she could tell that, too.

"I appreciate that you want to store those, and the house appreciates you showing them." It was unusual, not unheard of, but unusual for someone to carry pistols. "Follow me."

Whether he realized it or not, following her did not take his actions out of her sight. Vegas was more than the head of staff, and more than simple security, but the best cards in a hand are those you don't show. They walked through the hallway doors, but turned before the office. Vegas palmed open a lock that was not from any catalog or supplier, the scanner a black panel on the wall.

A seemingly thin wooden door swung out, and Vegas kept him nearest the opening it revealed. The room inside was small, square, with only a single door in the wall opposite them.

"Turn the key," which was protruding from the lock in the small door's face, "and the locker will open. I'd like you to unload the guns and leave the mags in here," she handed him a plastic bin, large enough for assault rifle magazines. She did not mention that firearms would not discharge inside the building, another trump card.

"Put it all in the locker," she was all business, letting him remove the massive pistols, drop the magazines and unload the chamber. "Once you close the door and turn the key, no one can open that box but the person with that key." She noted his critical glance.

"I'm serious, they could tear the building down, burn through the door and get into the room, but they couldn't get into that box. Mind the key, without it, neither can you." She closed the door after he had locked the small safe and pocketed the key.

"One last thing," she said, catching his attention, and she assumed, his eyes behind the sunglasses, "Mind your manners inside the building. We can all stay friendly, whether we stay friends or not."

She led the towering man back into the main dining area, a smile on her face as she turned him back over to Martin. A trip through the bar before she returned to the office, another of her jobs.


"Would you happen to have a bottle of 1982 Chateau Figeac? It's one of my favorite Bordeaux. I did some business with Thierry back in 82. He was gracious enough to let me take a few cases of the 82 for my own scant wine cellar. If you don't have any, I'd be delighted to bring a few bottles in for your sommelier to sample."

Martin looked appraisingly at the man, and measured whether it was mocking or seriousness. His right hand strayed to his vest pocket, a habit he learned in a previous employ.

"Sir, I can assure you, we have one of the finer wine cellars in this state . While we do reserve wines of all types, I cannot claim a bottle of that particular vintage.

"As you know, the Figeac is a study in inconsistency, though that vintage is considered palatable. I would recommend the 82 Chateau La Lagune in place, which I assure you, we do have in the cellar." He stood a little straighter, his nose a bit more in the air. One thing Martin was, it was proud of his skills.

"If the wine is suitable, I will have the bottle brought out. As to the crudites, we have them fresh from our own supplier, and I can attest to their quality. Would you care for a sauce to accompany them?"

((OOC: Matching arrogance with Martin, a clever ploy. The crudites, I am assuming, are the raw veggies, correct?))

"Very good," Babetta said, turning slightly away. "I'll be back with some bread and oil in a minute." She swept by a dark-skinned woman and Beth as they passed towards the wall-booths.

Vegas was just leaving the larger set of swinging doors and nodded to the shorter girl as she passed. Beyond those doors was a hallway, which led to a small office and other portions of the restaurant. The stout scrapper did not deviate, walking in a straight line towards the podium, where Martin stood with a much taller man.

"Simply by the numbers of liquors in stock, it would take me several days simply to serve them all properly," the tiny ice woman said, matter-of-factly. She maintained a distance, he seemed talking to himself almost more than to her.

"Our winelist is rather truncated, in actuality. Martin could recite them all for you, but many do not appear on the listing." Narshawn could settle into a lecturing mode if allowed to. The soft tinkling of her voice had a calming effect, the mist from her voice slowly sinking towards the floor as she spoke.

The tall Katarin, beginning to feel a little harried, looked at the girl. She knew that Gal accepted anyone who walked through the door, and had even taken Katarin to the homeless shelter the huge Tank volunteered at. Gal, and all the Sisters, believed in treating every person as an honored guest. She did look twice over the girl's clothing, but that was all.

"No, Miss, this early, reservations are not required. I am Katarin, and this is Ladies by the Lake. Hallo," she said somewhat belatedly. Strangely enough, this girl was easier to understand than anyone else. Katarin smiled.

"A table or a booth, please?"

((OOC: Welcome Arashi. Katarin will be able to understand Rayne's English better than Martin's , and I hope you enjoy your stay. Gal is known for volunteering at a homeless children's shelter down the street, and that's from EARLY in this thread. They turn away no one.))

"Mai Tai?" Narshawn did know how the drink was made, but every person seemed to have their own take on things in this City. She had been chastised thoroughly by a gentleman on her making of a Martini, so she thought better to ask.

"Perhaps you would be so kind, and instruct me?"

Ladies' Mai Tai
1 oz. Royal Hawaiian Light Rum
1 oz. Lemon Hart 86 Demerara Rum
1 oz. Bols Orange Curacao
Dash French Orgeat Syrup
Dash Mandala's Rock Candy Syrup
Juice of half a Lime
1/4 oz. Lemon Juice
Orange Juice

"We do squeeze our juices fresh," Narshawn added.

"Certainly," Beth said, pulling a menu from the stack beneath the podium and waving one arm towards the interior. "A quiet table for one, Gal will be so glad to know you are here."

Soul and Beth had just departed when the Albino walked through the door, Gal not seeing them walk to a table near the cooking dais, but shielded from most other patrons. It was in a booth, with a privacy drape if she chose to use it. Most of all, it was one of the more intimate places they had to offer, for those who simply wanted to eat in peace.

"I'll make sure Gal knows you're here," the pale-faced Beth said as they arrived. Can I get you something to drink first? Tea, maybe a Long Island?" Beth was gaining a good feel for people's moods, and Soul looked to need something calming and friendly.

Narshawn delivered the beer, after greeting the young woman in Island clothes, and noticed Nick's seeming reluctance to talk.

Well, she thought, a good bartender knows when to talk and when not to. His attention was focussed more on the newcomer anyway.

"Good evening, Sir," Beth said from the podium, both Martin and Katarin helping other guests. She had to look far up into the pale face. "Welcome to Ladies by the Lake, I'm Beth. Would you care for a table?"

The young woman looked to have no apprehension or idea the man was more than a very well dressed patron.

**************

Gal, talking warmly to a smaller, brightly dressed woman in a nearby alcove, paused. Still keeping attention on the woman with her, she stepped partially back, subtley. Something tingled in her mind, her intuition that came with her powers.

It wasn't really danger or threat, just some sort of...menace or caution. It seemed as though something between good and evil was about. She could not pinpoint it, but the direction of the entrance seemed to exude a warning. Gypsy had the same sort of aura she felt now, a taint.

Well, nothing that meant ill could walk through that door. If Lord Recluse had only wanted a decent meal, he could have passed, but if he meant any mischief, he would only find a brick wall where any hero saw the interior of the restaurant. It was an enchantment given by a Sister, and she trusted it's power.

So, whatever was coming, was only the hint of possibilities, or had not formed yet. She turned back to Lili, putting the thought into the back of her mind for now.

"The fish is fresh, so it should appeal to your 'inner Penguin'," she smiled, bringing out her dimples again. "I'll be right back with your wine."

She turned to leave, in time to catch sight of a large albino entering the main doors. There were enough oddities in Paragon, but that man would still stand out, she thought.

A few moments later, she passed back to the table, a glass in her hand. The wine was poured out in the Bar, regulations, but it came direct from the bottle. There were rumors of watering in other places, but not here.

Somewhat small, slightly chubby hands whisked a coaster into place at the table, and she settled the glass on it.

"Will the wine be ok?" She waited for him to taste or smell it, it was a rule that the patron approve of wines and liquors before the staff left the table.

"Mahalo Nui."

Katarin waited a moment, unsure how to respond. The woman spoke in something other than English, or German. She did not understand, but smiled and nodded politely. People here were much more friendly than on her world.

She finally took a seat and waited for the bartender to take her order...

"Good evening," Narshawn said, passing by with Nick's beer. "I am Narshawn, the bartender, and I will be back in a moment." She continued down the bar, leaving the beer in front of the slightly untidy man already gazing at a glass of scotch.

She returned after a short, and friendly exchange with him.

"Welcome to Ladies, how may I help you?" She smiled, closed lipped. She never really seemed to have a complete expression, but she tried. A smile that did not reach the eyes, a frown that did not seem equal on both sides of her face. Facial expression was not normal, but she tried as a matter of politeness.

"We have a full menu, just as the restaurant, and a large selection of beverages. You look to be attending, or returning from, a festival. Perhaps something celebratory?" The woman had the proportions of a child, barely over four feet tall, but her manners were mature.

((OOC: Assume that Nar can handle unlimited guests, and never detracts from one to help another. She can still talk to Nick and Jenni at the same time.))

The young woman watched the display of powers. She, personally had no super-powers, besides the one that resided in her mind. Technology fascinated her, and her talent lay in reverse engineering, and improving it.

"You should meet Narshawn," she smiled, dimples under her cheeks showing. "I'm sorry, I forgot about dinner. Have you looked over the menu? Or would you like time, while I bring your wine?

"Specials are a fairly spicy seafood stew, no shellfish in that and the ever present Southern Steak. Gal makes that, and it is very good, if you eat meat." She said aside, a little quieter, "And don't ask for that well-done, unless you want to meet Gal."

Her hands still itched to pull his mask apart, but she had a job. On the Island, she would spend days in the one electronics lab, sleeping a little at a time. The Sisters eschewed technology, but they were not ignorant of it.

Narshawn, while not able to imbibe alcohol, did know the finer ones from her voracious reading and encyclopaedic knowledge. What she read, she would never forget, another advantage of her peculiar physiology. Her motionless eyes held his for a moment, he also had less water in his form than would be normal for a human, she noted.

"A good choice , Sir. Do you care for that neat, on rocks or simply with the beer?" She floated up the wall to the scotch, natural in her movements in flight. "We have several types of beer, on tap, but for stout, I would recommend the Black Labrador. It is a local brewery." She could speak about that beverage, from experience.

"Yes, the bar is alive. It grows from the ground, and is trained to stay this shape."

She came back before him with the alcohol, setting it carefully on the large coaster, then moving to get his request from the taps. "Miss Gal, and many others of us here, are members of a group, The Sisters. Her partner was injured, seriously, in a mission, as were several of us." Her voice never held emotion, but could not be called monotone, with a clinking sound somehow mixed in.

"Miss Gal has only recovered from the radiation sickness, and her partner suffered from it as well. I am glad to return. And what about you, sir?" She wasn't sure if this person was human or something else, but he seemed willing to talk. She had gained an appreciation for that.

((OOC: If you have a brand in mind, feel free to see it on tap or in the bottle. They can accomodate most anything, and aim to please ))

Katarin looked at the license, realizing that it was some official document. The photo and the woman were the same, but she had no idea what it declared.

"You have no need to prove you're identity to me, Miss. I am not an authority or," the consternation on her face indicated she regretted the last statement. "I mean," she continued in her sharp accent, "you do not need to show me identification."

Where she was from, failure to produce papers was a serious, serious offense. Gal had been very kind in showing the young woman differences between this world and her own, but some things were taught by experience. Her smile returned, the best way to make amends.

"Please, the bar is through here." She led down the short hall, holding the passage door open. Beyond, the warmth and sounds of the bar drifted back.

"If you're makin' reservations, then it will get tasted tonight." Gal would share it, maybe even make time to sit and talk a little if the group was inclined.

"You know that whenever you decide to come in, Martin'll make tables for you." She held the bottle gratefully, looking at the label. She was no wine afficianado, but she knew that this woman had taste. "Ramble on, long as you like. It's too often that polite conversation gets pushed aside."

Gal stepped from the main kitchen into the restaurant, glancing at the growing activity near the entrance. It looked to be mostly heroes if her intuition served her, but then most civilians tended to steer wide of places the powered gathered. The ocassional brave soul would come in, but it suited her to simply be a refuge from the daily war outside.

Rufuge, refugee. She had seen enough of them to last a lifetime, what with the last few months. The most recent addition to the growing number of refugee aliens she dealt with stood at the podium, conversing with a small woman (anyone under seven feet was small to Gal). Kupferdaechli, the namesake for her hero persona. Her ability to control electricity had been engineered on another world, one where the Column had won the war.

Anyway, she shook her head, the tailing ends of her headscarf brushing her shoulders. Her newest employee had said an old friend was waiting, and bearing a gift. Gal hoped the friend intended to share it, as no Sister would accept a gift unless there was sharing involved.

She thought on that, the code the Sisters lived by, as she walked to the front. She had seen what the code meant to some, on that world, and their sacrifice only made following the rules more important. Almira, Mer, Snare and the others.

Catching sight of Lili in one of the alcoves near the door, she was very hard to mistake, the tank's wide smile returned. Life went on.

"Hey there, thanks for coming to the opening. Are you stayin' for dinner?"

((OOC: Nice to see you Dollhouse. I love your characters, they add flavor to the soup. As I said, I control time here, so there's room for anyone and everyone.))