Sibling

((OOC: OK, I'm going to try to keep up, but will answer everyone in grouped posts, otherwise this will get ugly. Please read for your character. I may have created a monster, but my ego loves it.))

Beth glanced around the bar and noticed the young man returning from the Pool Room. The bar looked more crowded than the restaurant, which usually meant more tips. She knew she couldn't compete with Gertrude for those, glancing down at her less than impressive front.

"Mr. Manion, we have a table ready for you. Has your party arrived, or would you care to take your drink to your table? We are having several large parties tonight, and it's opening, sorry for the wait."

((OOC: Manion is welcome to sit alone, but will likely be seated near Gal's kitchen, where there will be more conversation, unless he chooses a more secluded spot. Good restaurants try to cluster guests, it's easier on the help. The bar idea is cool, but it's alive like an ancient oak and unless his arm is really heavy, the dent will disappear in moments. Nice choice of tunes, btw.))

Narshawn winced at the drawl of the woman with the hat. She prided herself on being fluent and meticulously proper in her English, and that twang was just enough. There were Sister's with accents, but just understanding this woman proved a task.

It was her job to anticipate the needs of the patrons, and correctly provide. She sighed, realizing that having an accent was correctible, being made of ice was not. Everyone was different, and part of her reason for being here was to learn, so she would learn. She began to think more time with Gal and a little less with Gemini might help.

"Miss Bait," she hovered back toward the end of the bar, "I would not question you handle the weapon well, I simply wish to make certain there are no misunderstandings. The Sister who cares for the bar and tables considers it part of her family." She paused, glancing between Gator and Isis.

"You seem to have something in common with the woman, there," she gestured at Isis. "Would you care for another round of drinks?"

Gertrude had appeared from the back-kitchen area again, her platter loaded with warm snacks. She placed the bowls along the bar, within reach of anyone caring, passing near the woman in the hat as Narshawn moved off.

"Don't let her get you down, she's just really serious. Care for a burger or some Cajun Wings? Gal's from the South, makes a wicked hot sauce." She moved down the bar after Bait's answer, stopping near Isis.

"And you ma'am. I could get you something to go with the drink?"

((OOC: She will be glad to bring bar food to anyone who likes, and would compliment the ladies on their choice for clothes or the like. Tips. She's also the loosest mouth in the place, but won't be spilling any secret ID's or the like, just good conversation.))

"Ms. War," Martin stood near the corner of the raised platform, used to being present but unseen. "There is a party of, ahem, gentlemen. One of them has said to inform you," she glanced over to catch his sour expression, "Sweet is in the house. His words, ma'am."

Her smile widened, both from the news and from how Martin seemed discomfitted by it. He was an excellent Maitre 'd, classically trained and well worth twice what he asked, but tight in the pants, figuratively.

She pulled several skillets onto the lower-heat burners and grabbed a towel from the rack. She had to crouch slightly to see across the grill and under the mammoth exhaust hood. She caught sight of the strutting Bliss first, her partner had mentioned him before, and Sibling held some secret admiration for him.

She didn't see Thang, or didn't recognize him, until he turned and was looking for a chair large enough to support him at the table. Gal grinned, grabbing one of the reinforced models she kept for this sort of reason.

"Having trouble finding something wide enough for your butt?" Several of his party had seen her coming, but she didn't know any of them. "I can have Gypsy find some cinder blocks," she couldn't help but laugh.

Gal was tall, nearly eight feet, but Sweet was immense. About the same height, he outweighed her by several hundred pounds. She could appreciate his form, and sometimes made lewd comments, but all in jest. She had one partner, and that was the slight Sibling.

She was also suspicious of him, for reasons of the Restaurant. Some unknown benefactor had paid for the building and setting up the business, Diva's benefactor as well, and somehow it smelled like his aftershave on the contract. He never would admit to it, but never denied it.

She grabbed him in a bear hug, honestly glad to see him.

"So, handsome, what do you think of the place?" She smiled around the table, taking in the fact a Hero at level 50 was her first night guest.

"Gorgeous, Hon," his quick eyes spoke of a mind equally as powerful as his frame, "but I hear the food is a little bland." He finished with a smile.

"Bland? Brother, you want something hot, you come back after close, I'll show you something hotter'n liquid fire." Her laughter was deep, like the beating of a bass drum. Thang might have actually blushed, but the lights were too low to tell.

"Now, before I have'ta get back to the grill, introduce me around." She was wiping a hand on the towel, ready to meet his friends.

((OOC: You know what to do Thang. Wow, a 50 in Gal's place <wink&gt)

Beth noticed a woman standing in the alcove, seeming not to know whether to come in or leave. She had several tattoos, to her untrained eye, similar to those Gal, Gypsy and Sibling wore.

"Miss," she spoke and was already gathering a leather bound menu and brass placard for the table, "there are always tables ready for Sisters. I will tell Gal you are here. Please, follow me." With that, she headed into the restaurant.

((OOC: Beth is mistaking Asuryan's character for one of the Sisters, Gal's SG. It is an honest mistake, they are all tattooed and usually wear similar clothing for missions, and Beth is trying to do what's right. If the woman wants to be treated well, she can go along, but Gal will know quickly she is not one of them. No harm no foul, this is Beth's mistake. If she instead wishes to stop and get it out in the clear, Beth will be embarrassed and still make sure she gets royal treatment. Either way, welcome to the thread!))

"No problem, sir." She lingered a moment longer than necessary, "Just ask for Gertrude if you need anything, that's me."

Narshawn's frown did not go unnoticed by the girl, but she made a demure drop of her eyes and played as though she were only trying to be helpful. With that, she walked on through a set of swinging doors that led into the back of the kitchens and the dishwashers. Her salary was not small, but her tips were where she made the mortgage.

"The flyer covers any beverage," Narshawn watched after the doors swung closed, a dour look spearing towards the young woman. "It is served room temperature."

((OOC: Can you say outrageous flirt?))

While Ma waited to see what would happen after her badge was scanned, she reached into a pouch. Nervous habit she had, and drug the weathered leather case out, grabbing inside it with three fingers and working her mouth. Pulling out a good-sized mass of stringy tobacco, she quickly shoved it into her cheek.

Some chewing and prodding later it was comfortable. She wouldn't spit on the step, and found an innocuous patch of grass. Then she settled to wait for what would come.

((OOC: She knows about the elevator thing, from watching Raymond and the others. If I need to get her inside, that's cool, but J can pilot her at least as far as the gathering if you like.))

The young woman with flowing hair passed close behind Manion, a tray with empty bottles and small bowls of snacks balanced on one hand. She was returning from the other end of the room, where pool balls could be heard clicking together and the faint sound of Bob Dylan's "Highway 61" floated back.

"Mister," she paused, trying to catch the corner of his eye. "Did you drop this?" She bent over at the waist, giving a fair view of her just-a-little-too unbuttoned blouse to anyone looking that way. When she stood, she had one of the colored flyers in her hand and passed it to him.

"I think I saw you drop that," <wink>.

((OOC: Gertrude is a waitress, and knows how to flirt for a tip. Don't get grabby, but she will make your stay at least pleasant. Narshawn might get a little miffed about how she acts, but Gal runs the place, and she knows the staff are professionals. Sly comments and leading statements will be met by Gertrude's equally sharp wit, and she knows how to play the game, where Nar might get offended by the same directed at her.))

"On the rocks," Narshawn looked towards the young woman, then poured Isis' drink carefully, not spilling on the bar. "This means with ice?"

She hovered over to the Canadian Mist, and brought the tumblers back. Two coasters, under the glasses, and she made a motion over the liquors with one hand, two cubes of clear ice dropping from apparently nowhere into the Crown glass.

"Shall I make you a tab? It can be taken with you to the restaurant, if you like." One frosted hand pointed to the weapon she wore, "Please be cautious of the bar, it is delicate."

((OOC: Gertrude, tall and dark human woman, will be making the rounds of tables and picking up empties. She is a human calculator, and easily keeps track of what each patron has spent. She has waited tables in other places and is a little more amiable than Nar, she also brings food from the kitchen if anyone wants it.))

"Beth," said the girl at the door, somewhat flattered he would care about her name. She thought he was giving her the once over until she noticed that her name-badge was lying on the podium. She reached for it subtley, hoping Martin would not notice, but a raised eyebrow from him told her otherwise.

"I will put you down for a table, did you say two?"

*******

"Ma'am, I apologize, but you carry your years well." Narshawn offered a slight nod in apology as she noticed the birthdate. "I am young," by way of explanation.

"I cannot speak by experience for liquor, but would say the strongest we have is Fulton's Reserve or perhaps Grappa di Roma. The first is recommended by Mistress War, a corn liquor from Missouri, the Grappa a licorice tasting liquor." She had reverted to a lecture tone, reading from a memory, and her presence brought a definite chill to the air. "Mistress War would advise against over-indulging in the Reserve, it carries a high price.

"The Skulls and Hellions I know of, I would never think to challenge a Council member. My skills are not enough to stand against them, at least not yet. Any information you have on how to challenge them would be appreciated."

She spoke over one shoulder, slowly ascending to a simple glass jug, high on a center shelf. The liquid inside appeared clear. "You may prefer to smell the liquor before trying it."

((OOC: Narshawn cannot drink, not only too young but alcohol does not freeze, and that could burn through her anatomy. She will pour two fingers of whatever Isis cares for, and deliver a bowl of salt-free pretzels, salt being anathema to her as well. After she serves Isis her choice she will help the young man.))

"I can serve you Guinness Stout, but we also have Ayinger Rauchbier and Salvator Doppelbock on tap." She pullled a small list of beers ((please assume that something close to your tastes is there)) from beneath the bar. "Would you care to sample, we also have a sample platter of several tap beers that the first drink free flyer covers." She waved the flyer that Isis had handed her for a free drink.

When Isis presented the drink flyer, Narshawn carefully placed a paper-board coaster in front of her, not touching the bar top. Gal had chosen her to run the bar to force her to exercise strict control of her ice powers. A wafting cloud of mist followed the tiny woman, a side-effect of being from ice kin. Her feet didn't touch the floor behind the bar, she was short enough not to be able to see over, so she hovered at eye level.

"What may I do for you? The paper is payment for any drink you wish. Care you for a menu, the selection is large?" Frozen breath cooled the air, and the hint of her icicle teeth could be seen when she spoke. She seemed to consider a moment, then:

"Pardon me, but may I see an ID for alcohol? Your hair may be white, but your smile is young."

((OOC: The coupon idea is great, Isis gets a double if she goes for liquor, or a basket of fried onion skins if she is a teetotaller.))

"I don't see a reservation under that name," Beth looked at the mostly empty screen, there wasn't a lack of space, "but I can see if something is available. It is opening night," she leaned across the podium slightly when Martin had his proper back turned and whispered, "and Gal loves an audience. Get the Salmon and order the corn bread, you won't be sorry."

She straightened when the taller man turned back from the dining room, he would not appreciate the help being so familiar with guests.

"Certainly, sir, we can call you in the bar when a table is ready if you like."

((OOC: Martin is of British background, totally human. His parents were both servants in Noble Houses, and he is proud to continue the tradition. Beth is a runaway, taken under Gal's wing like many of the staff, and trying to get back on her feet.

Also, for you AR/Devs and the like: Carrying weapons in the place is ok, part and parcel of being a hero, but brandishing is considered poor manners. Vegas is in charge of handling trouble, everyone gets a warning about being underage in the bar and about getting out of hand if she sees the possibility.

Jackets are recommended, but you will be seated without them, just be prepared for Martin's evil eye.))

"Miss Vegas," Gypsy was placing several trays of sweets into the cold case when she walked in, "Mistress Gal asked for you to come to her kitchen when you arrived. Dark colors suit you." She nodded and went back to the main kitchen entrance on business for Gal, making a brisk pace.

"Sorry, Hon," Gal said from behind the immense stoves, moving pans and pots around to match the heat. "Forgot to send over your clothes, but black is a good choice. Make sure to pick them up tonight before you leave, no need you paying for cleaning them." The taller woman wore a black cotton blouse, open far enough to show an ample bossom but not be lewd and a white silk undershirt. Heavy, black denim pants, cut to style and decorated with muted chili peppers and an apron folded at the waist completed her look. Her hair was tied up and held in a white affair, something like a bag tied around the top, to meet sanitation laws.

"Jus waitin' on the people."


"Hello, Ladies by the Lake?" Beth answered the call in her something-western accent.

"Yes, sir, we are open and the Bar is as well. How many? For what time? I have you reserved, will you like to be near the Chef's kitchen, the entertainment is well worth it? Very good, your table will be ready Mr. Sweet."

((OOC: Gal's outfit would be well fitted to most chefs, the pants being slightly baggy but easy to launder. The peppers do not stand out unless she is nearby.))

"Good afternoon, ma'am," the forty-something man behind the podium announced, seemingly non-plussed by her speedy entrance. The staff training dealt with how to relate to many hero styles and powers, to make those with powers feel more at ease.

"No, no," he responded to her question, "the restaurant is not fancy, simply well appointed," His accent marked him as either British or from a colony, his stance and bearing that of someone used to service.

"If a beverage and perhaps some billiards would suit you, the Bar is likely more to your tastes." His manners were impeccable, but there was an air of superiority in his voice after taking in the country look. "That way," he pointed down the hall to the right, where a large glass door had script stating "Bar" calligraphed on it.

"If you care for some lighter fare, it can be ordered. I would caution you, however," his attitude slipped back to the helpful butler, "not to display weapons inside the establishment. The proprietor is very strict on maintaining a non-aggressive atmosphere."

He held up a single finger, "And please, I will need to see some identification to allow you into the bar, young lady."

((OOC: You are welcome to head in and get your poison once you have shown you are over 21. Narshawn can make most drinks, from her crib sheet, but straight up is easy. There is background music in the Bar, and a jukebox near the pool tables with a variety of songs, from Velvet Revolver to Merle Haggard.))

Greetings,
You have been hand selected to participate in our Hero Recruitment Program. We've had our eye on you for some time now and we are extending you this special invitation. If you're interested bring the attached keycard to 8321 Virtue Court in Atlas Park and present it at the door for access. Hope to hear from you soon.

*Clever*, thought Janice, *sent this the same day I receive my disability check, otherwise it might be a week before I picked up the mail.*

She stopped by the bank to cash her Treasury Check, enough to pay for her prescriptions and half a month of decent food, or a whole month of Shelter food. She was going to need some other items soon, too, might have to find some odd jobs. Not being able to hold a steady job had it’s shortfalls, but living rough didn’t bother her. She couldn’t take charity, so it was whatever someone as freakish as she was could do to make ends meet. At least the tram stations were warm and dry, and she had a long term lease on the lockers where she stored her gear. That was her next destination, no sense answering something like this naked.

*Raggedy old house*, she watched through telescopic sights, over a block away from behind a shuddering air conditioning unit. The rooftop was clear, and had an excellent vantage for some way, it wouldn’t do to have someone surprise her.

*House is cold, so’s the meter* she thought as she scanned the building with thermal. *Can’t see inside, but wouldn’t bet it’s empty. No electricity inside, but the pole is still hot.* She could tell by the warmth of the power line that electricity was going somewhere. Switching the scope, she hit Nightvision, of no use during the day for sighting, it still picked up infra-red and lasers extremely well. *Something on the door, and perimeter beams.* An occasional blow of dust caused the beams to sparkle under the sensitivity of the optics.

She waited less than an hour until she recognized Raymond approaching the building. He stood at the door for a moment, then some sort of trap door lowered him into the front yard. His card looked similar to the one in her pocket, wrapped in aluminum foil and old, steel window screen scavenged from a dumpster. No tracking devices would find it, until she wanted them to.

*Well, gang’s all here,* as the other two descended into the ground a moment later. *Damen spooks,* a smile curved her lips. Working for the Agency usually paid well, and her bank account, also known as her wallet, could use it. She stayed off the grid, no phone, no banks, no trace.

She stashed an MP-5 inside some trash bins down the alley, then thought about it and added a couple grenades. If she needed to leave in a hurry, or was searched, she wanted something nearby. Gathering her things, she walked across the lawn and stood at the door, observing. The light came on, paused as it tried to scan for the card, then went out again.

A simple Mason Jar, no lid, and a baseball grenade wrapped liberally with electrical tape and ball bearings came form her waist-pack. She pulled the grenade pin and slid the grenade, spoon inside, into the jar. If she did get ambushed, the jar would break and the grenade would blow 3 seconds later. Insurance. She unwrapped the card and held it to the door.

((OOC: Oh yeah, Ma is a spooky type, and she is rarely caught unawares. She wouldn’t carry heavy into a meeting, but count on her to have something small and deadly. A double stack Springfield Arms 1911 knock-off rides in a pancake holster at her back, and she is good with it. I’ll let J figure out how to get her into the facility, but she will be good natured unless something sets her off. She enjoys covert work, and will listen to any proposition.

Gal's is open. The cast iron is hot, and at 4PM they unlock the doors for business. The bar is open as well.

Beth and Martin stand by to seat diners, Narshawn is running the bar, with Gertrude for waiting tables. Come in, sit down and tell your tales in comfort. Jackets are expected in the restaurant, jeans and T's are ok in the bar.

Welcome!

Desserts and Libations:

Apple and rhubarb crisp with buttermilk ice cream and oatmeal streusel

Warm stuffed dates with lemon ice cream and a pistachio tuille

Frozen rhubarb mousse with almond pound cake
and strawberry-rhubarb compote

Chocolate pot de crème with kirschwasser-soaked cherries
and hazelnut macaroons

House-made ice cream or sorbet
served with a selection of cookies and sweets

* * *

A selection of local and European specialty cheeses served with seasonal fruits and nuts
__________________
DESSERT WINES

Domaine de Coyeau Muscat Beaumes de Venise,
1996

Smith Woodhouse, Late Bottle Vintage Port, 1986

Veuve Cliquot Demi-Sec (375 ml) Champagne xxx

Ragnaud VSEP Cognac
_________________
DRINK SPECIALS

Chimney Sweep - Laphroig, vanilla ice cream and
espresso
_____________________
AFTER-DINNER BEERS

Belle-Vue Gueuze or Framboise, 12.67 ounces

Lindeman's Cuvee Rene, 750 ml

Guiness Stout, served room temperature, 0.5l

Pyramid Brewing IPA, Portland, Oregon Import. 0.3l

Menus change weekly and seasonally.

Menu for 3-16 to 3-22

Appetizers:
Six Greens Salad, Six different greens mixed with fresh tomatoes, feta cheese, walnuts and a light vinaigrette.

Early Onion Palette, Three types of sweet onions, sliced thin and brazed, drizzled with a vegetable broth.

Thin-Sliced Meats, a selection of thinly sliced Parma Ham, Italian Prosciutto and Boar’s Head Salted Pork. Served with a small aeoli bowl for dipping.

Mushrooms of season: a plate of lightly sautéed mushrooms, Lion’s Mane, Oyster and Chanterelle. Perfectly seasoned.


Main Course:

Grilled Salmon with Garlic and Lemon. Our Salmon is seasoned and allowed to marinate for several hours to retain the delicious flavor. Grilled over a wood fire to three levels of done-ness, your choice.

Gal’s Seasoned Steak. A fine cut of Organic Fed Beef, seasoned by Gal in a secret recipe with a peppery crust. Pan Cooked to four levels of done-ness. Over an inch thick and more then 18 oz.

Kaesespaetzle. The classic Swiss style, cooked noodles, then pan fried and covered with Appenzeller and Emmentaller Cheese. Topped with crisp-fried onions.

Ratatouile. A stew of vegetables and beef cubes, seasoned and slow cooked. Hearty and filling.

Portobello Platter. Gal sautees the portobellos in soy sauce and lemon juice, then cooks them over wood flames until the juices are soaked in but the mushrooms retain their flavor.

Bread is freshly baked by Three Miner’s Bakery, an assortment at your table. Please ask for olive, canola oil or Balsamic vinegar to dip.

Please ask server about deserts, all baked or prepared daily on premises.

Wine and liquors available through the Bar, server will request your ID and present you a menu.


((OOC: More will be posted Wednesday, but this gives you an idea. I will be getting a Bar menu and the standards in the restaurant up, this gives you something to think about.))

So, what do you (your character) do on a slow night? You know, you grabbed tHe PwonnZZorX last week and the Freaks run before you can get close, Countess Crey is playing kid gloves with you since you filed that last assault suit (rogue agents, she says) and the CoT is still hiding out under rocks in Perez. The idea of another Hungry Statesman TV Dinner just doesn’t do it, and Paragon Idol is in reruns. Maybe a nice dinner out, and some good company, you think.

Whether you want to grab a cold draft and play a few games of pool or are looking to sit down for a good, albeit not cheap, dinner where your tastebuds are satisfied before your stomach is, you should be stopping by Ladies by the Lake! Affectionately called “Gal’s Place”, after the owner and proprietor, Gal’ O War, this is the secret spot for heroes to gather for quiet, respite and good conversation.

The menu will change weekly, the people inside often and I will try to make sure there are no dull moments. Best of all, there are no epic battles, no super-villains and no requirements that you fit my box. This is an open RP, so long as you follow the guidelines I placed above, which all of my characters will follow as well. The regulars will be: Gal ‘O War (owner, 7’8” African American Magic Tanker, Southern and proud to be, honest, blunt, married to Sibling), Sibling (Psychiatrist with their own practice, 5’4” somewhat Asian appearing Mind Controller, actually two people in one body, Angela and twin brother Cliff, feminine), Dark Vegas (5’6”, Dark-Dark Scrapper, dark-haired American girl, as blunt as Gal and honest to the core, security and dining room manager), Narshawn (4’6” Ice Blaster, made out of ice and frozen anatomy, not familiar with normal city ways, she has been trained on an island, runs back-up on dining and staff), Gypsy’s Queen (6’1” Dark-Dark Scrapper, true royalty, the last of her Gypsy clan, has a temper but acts aloof, Narshawn is her mentor, good with food, helps Gal when needed and otherwise kitchen) and there will be several other staff, who I will introduce when they arrive. Not everyone is a powered character, many of the NPC’s will be normal people, but about everyone in Paragon will be used to powered-types.

Feel free to make up simple conversation for the NPC’s, they will mention the specials in the restaurant, make recommendations for the bar, direct you to the facilities, etc… without my input. They act like staff at good restaurants, taking care of good customers, and calling the artillery when things go awry. They will accommodate special requests if possible, and Gal will gladly make veggie alternates for menu items (Sibling’s Op is a Vegetarian). Enjoy the restaurant, enjoy a good bottle of wine but leave off pinching the waitress unless you are sure he/she isn’t a Regen Spines.

Ok, now to the place. I want to flesh this out as much as possible, make it a real place in your mind. Gal, Sibling, Narshawn and Gypsy are all members of a religious group called The Ladies of the Lake, and the place reflects their tastes, which lean towards simple, elegant and natural.

There are four main sections of the facility, each described below. The restaurant, largest single space and includes the kitchens, Gal’s personal display kitchen, the entryway, street access and seating areas. The Bar, which is classy and resembles more the British type Pub, street access, cozy but sometimes boisterous with bar and table seating and usually a good soccer match on the 32” TV (no bigger, this is not a sports bar, Gone to the Americans!). The Darts and Pool room, which attaches to the bar and includes two pool tables (fine slate rigs with real wood and woven pockets), three darts lanes and a couple standing tables. Finally, for you Nick Fury types, there is the smoking section, which encompasses part of the bar and part of the darts room.

The Restaurant: Lit with special fixtures, derived from some of the CoT lanterns, no heat or fire, the restaurant is semi-formal. Walls and floor are wood, dark and polished, recovered from warehouses in the city. The ceiling is about 14 feet high, with some frescoes and plaster art, lights here and there for effect, ventilation is hidden by the various fixtures, but a cool breeze keeps the place good for most, unless you are a fire or ice baby, then dress accordingly. The tables are also wooden, and are alive, growing from the floor thanks to Sister’s Magick, with some appropriate for human sized, some for giants and some for shorter people. Chairs range from small affairs to heavy and reinforced for those Inv/SS Tanks who like a little too much beer (Earl Gutman, that’s you). The staff will seat you accordingly.

The entrance is from Oliver Street, two large French-style doors, which open into a small, green-curtained alcove (that keeps the wind from making it too cold in winter) and on through to the Head Wait Station. This is a podium, where someone is always standing, ready to ask for reservations and seat you. Once you enter that alcove, no villain, no violence can follow you (think any Paragon store) and the light odors of fine food are detectible. The lighting is not dim, but muted, setting the mood for the repast awaiting you. No smoking in the restaurant proper. A large antique cold case is passed going to the dining room, containing fresh foods, seafood choices (in aquariums) and deserts for later.

The main dining area is about 40’wide by 60’long, arranged to make each table feel like a small island, with plenty of walking room between. In the center of the room is a large dais, where potted plants are arranged, breaking up the large space, overhung with an exotic creeping plant. On special occasions, this dais is cleared to make room for a musical group or presentation.

You enter the doors, pass through the alcove, turn left down a short, wide hall with the case and can travel on to the dining room straight ahead or turn right and enter the Bar. The kitchens are on the far side of the room, Gal’s presentation kitchen stands slightly elevated at that end, She is usually found cooking there or touring around speaking to people about the food.

The Bar: If you turned right, you are in another hall, about ten feet long, that lets you into the bar. The bar is also accessible from outside, the door being on the well lit middle of the block, an inviting brass door with glass filler.

The Bar itself is over 40 feet long, imported from Ireland in the late 1880’s and kept in storage since the 50’s. It has also been taught to grow, and so is alive, deeply polished, shining. It is a showpiece, and treated with reverence, with stools along one side, the back area clear and uncluttered. Many tap handles, for all the fresh beer, and a wall of liquors to fit almost any taste. The back wall is a mirror, covered in significant runes, with lighting to make the display more impressive. From Dewar’s to McCallan 27 year old, Cabo to Quervo, Jack to Crown Royal, there should be something for you. It is all served in appropriate glasses or tumblers, and there is wine for the light-weights. Get a good Virgil’s rootbeer or hand crafted IPA (imported from Portland, Oregon), we serve all types with equal effort.

Brass and glass abound, giving the impression of a comfortable place to talk or just enjoy your Scotch. Gal will cut you off if you get tipsy, and no-one drives home drunk. Narshawn can be found behind the bar many nights, she has Hover, so she can easily reach what needs getting. Light fare, some things from the restaurant and complimentary salt-free pretzels (you can get salted, but be prepared for the Heart-Healthy speech from Nar). Small tables with chairs, comfy chairs made in the diamond-tucked green leather and brass-nailed style. Table service, but the bar gets your drinks quicker.

Darts and Pool: This room is for relaxing, shooting a few games or playing darts for points. The pool tables are antique slate rigs, massive, blue felt. Bring your own cue or use one of the house’s, hung along one wall, there are snooker and billiard balls available at the bar. Long lights, displaying vintage mottos like “Johnny Walker” and “Postman Ale” hand over the tables, overhead score beads. Do Not scratch the tables, you don’t want to know. Drinks are allowed in this area from the Bar, standing tables to set them on.

Smoking Area: By popular demand, there is a smoking area for those that must. Pay attention, it’s complicated. The smoking area is defined by a semi-transparent force field, liberated form the sky raiders. It can contain all smoke and odors, and will extinguish any burning objects that pass through it. The generator is placed so that half the bar and hald the Pool room are covered. Yes, you have to put the cigar down to shoot, and leave it at the table to get another bowl of pretzels, but none of my girls want to smell like an old Locomotive.

The menu will go up tomorrow, reservations are recommended, and every person, hero or not, is welcome to come, share their stories or just act like a hero in their off hours, sans breakage and aggro.

((OOC: If this is supposed to resemble D&D, with resistance checks and auto-hits, even the Gods have to make rolls, and any good DM would use their native numbers, because even a natural 20 can miss. Let's see, Hack and Slash column....ah, Githyankie cut your silver cord, too bad. If you want people to RP, and not be simple pawns, you have to let them RP. Why have a school for mental-problem cadets if one character can make them all better?))

Overhearing this, Janice realized that this man was just another form of villain, one who forced others to bend to his will. She thought back to her history courses: King George, Mussolini and others promised "Utopia" if only you would surrender your free will. She didn't want any part of that sort of perfection.

Luckily, the accident that had altered her body had altered her mind as well, allowing her to resist the effects. She walked out of the class, cleaned out her locker and went back out to the real world, hauling her gear in her old duffel bag. Better to be free and alone than a slave among slaves.

((OOC: Sorry, Janice isn't into that whole Omnipotence thing.))

Welcome to Ladies by the Lake, here as Gal’s Place. This is intended to be an open RP, open for anyone and everyone to become part of the story, share their hero’s stories and be part of something larger. I have a huge ego, and am a regular Troll, and therefore would like to start with the rules, followed by the setting, and let you create the story.

I am an RP-er from way back, and D&D, not Advanced but the original, was what I cut my teeth on. There is always a grand arbiter, the DM or GM, who decides what can and cannot be done. I don’t want to be some Dominatrix Whacko, but for fairness and good plot lines, will intercede if things get out of hand. Some simple rules I will follow, and will ask you to follow here:

1) There are no all-powerful characters here. Every character has limits, and no matter your grand scheme, normal limits will be observed. I know characters who can take on Malta Titans 1-on-1, but it’s a good fight. There are no characters that can “Walk through the barrage of fire from a thousand Titans, unscathed, and drinking a Martini.” In this story, just like in comics, the most feeble Hellion might be a tough match for your hero in the right circumstances.

2) There is no all-knowing character. If another player “thinks” something, unless they indicate someone should “hear” their thoughts, they are acting in third person, allowing the reader to understand something about their character. If Sibling, a lvl 35 Mind Controller, walks in, they might be able to tell that someone intended to blow the place up if the villain was near the door and carrying a box marked “Explosives to Destroy Gal’s Place”, but could not detect that the guy at the end of the bar liked watching old Hawaii Five-O reruns.

3) What happens at Gal’s, stays at Gal’s. If Countess Crey herself is standing outside wearing armor made from Destructallium, the Bar’s door will hold her out. If your hero needs to go fight crime, some world disaster, that is totally cool. Mention it, have him/her say it aloud, have them ask others, but the minute they walk out the door…start your own thread.

4) Gal’s Place is about telling your stories, reciting interesting history, giving your hero some life without worrying about someone else hijacking it or forcing you into a box. I will not force any character to act or follow my story line, but you have to respect what the thread is about. The second a character tries to tear the bar down or start a fight (unless it’s consensual and they agree to take it outside), some of that wonderful Portal Co equipment will send you to Iron Maiden Island near the Storm Palace and prevent you from coming back in.

5) If you want someone to interact with you, give them an “in”. Make it apparent your character is looking for interaction, or at least lead into it. If you walk in and sit down at the bar, a statement to Gal when she arrives like: “Make it a double Walker, straight-up. After that last mission, leave the bottle.”, will elicit a response to talk faster than: “Liquor, fast”. Good bartenders know when to talk, and when to shut-up. Same in the restaurant, the servers will stop and chat for a minute, hoping for better tips, but don’t have all night only for you.

6) Gal’s is secure from eavesdropping, recording devices and ambushes. ‘Nuff Said.

7) Gal is an excellent cook, good home cooking. The menu will change, and be posted every week, to make coming more fun. Expect to see pan-fried corn bread, Collards, good chicken as well as Baked tofu (seasoned with veggie soy sauce and herbs), vegetable ratatouille and Kaesespaetzle. She will try to accommodate those with special tastes, but call ahead! The bar serves most types of liquor and beer, but no plasma or animal-derived types (Vampires are welcome, have a McCallan or Green Cask Glenmorangie).

8) Rules will be posted as someone gets outside the lines. Any conversations are good. Unhappy with Vahz missions and want to unload? Trouble with Serge, SG asking too much, sick of PL heroes standing at IP tram, want to see the Mayor pass martial law or trying to find a friend? Cool. Hacking on a particular hero, slandering a race (real or in-game) or abusing a social type and there’s a Portal for you.


I will be watching the thread, and reserve the right to close it, should abuse become a problem. I just want to hear what your heroes want to say. This is a Bar after all, and a good restaurant. For Gal and Sibling’s background, see Ladies of the Lake RP elsewhere in RP. Make one appearance or become a regular, it’s up to you.

For now, there’s a sign on the building, in King’s Row:

Ladies by the Lake
Restaurant and Bar
Opening Soon

Get your stories ready, the place will open Wednesday. You are welcome to PM me if needed.

Janice was a little slow in getting up, but her head was clearing and her jaw didn't feel broken. She rubbed it and worked the hinge back and forth, running her tongue over the inside of her teeth, feeling that they were all still there. The taste of sulphur told her she probably had a split lip, and she wiped at it with her shirt.

"Nice shot, brother," she spoke quietly to her partner, giving him a wink through her still unsure vision. There was some new guy, in tie-dye, walking around the room. For a para-military facility, this place had some oddball instructors. The warm fuzziness of an Empath intruded on her mind, and she narrowed focus.

"Hey there Mindy," she pronounced it Mind-ee, "would appreciate it if you keep your brain drugs to yourself. Not everyone wants to get high." Her tone didn't come across as angry, just a request.

"About the aerobics, that sounds like the first good idea I've heard since Revelie." She stepped onto the floor, anxious to begin.

((OOC: Funny you should say Jazzercise. From 1988 to 1992 the US Army Airborne units in Vicenza Italy, 3/325 and 319, as well as some troops from Group had an aerobics schedule run by "Helga from Hell", a German instructor, famous for her murderous routines. Trust me, after 70 minutes of high impact with her, there were guys with Green Beenies ready to defect. The Silent Combat Team guys were afraid of her, lol.))

She felt the hit, and stars sparkled behind her eyes. It wasn't too much of an act to fall backwards, stumbling to avoid making it obvious, and sitting down hard on the mats. She hated melee, mostly for this reason, getting headshots or stunned. Keeping her jaw tight had helped, no smashing between her teeth or biting her tongue.

Embher could obviously hit hard, she hoped he had pulled the punch. Lying on her back, sounds were distorted and the world spun. There was shouting and the sounds of several other partners sparring, and someone closer calling out, but to who she didn't know. Just being still seemed to be a good idea now, and knowing that this was all a game kept her from worrying about getting up.

If this didn't satisfy Outrage, he could pack sand, for all she cared. She was a recruit, right enough, and expected nothing special in treatment, but forcing a soldier to play when they were injured, that was beyond good leadership. Her injury might have been mental, but you wouldn't send a wetware specialist in to coax out a suspect, any more than you would send a clerk into a tunnel-fight alone. Janice had been trained one way, and her finesse was not with pulling punches, it was ending fights before they got that close.

Maybe she would ask Embher out for dinner later, anyone that could hit like that deserved a second look, she thought. Assuming she could still chew. She'd have to ask him, she hadn't seen a wedding band.

((OOC: If Outrage wants to come and yell over her, she'll lay there and be dazed. However, the sight of greenish-orange blood (it still carries oxygen) might unsettle some. If she gets sent to the medicals, she'll ask Embher later about dinner. She is also still looking for a roomie.))

Janice waited for the impact, feeling the heat from Embhers flames. One good shot was all she would need, to make it look like she had a glass jaw. With no abilities outside a normal human's, fighting hand-to-hand with a Meta or Mutie would have been quick anyway. She wouldn't have been foolish enough to attempt it on an enemy obviously enhanced.

At range, well, that's where she fought. Steel and Green Dot could even the odds wonderfully, and anything that could throw slugs was her domain. In her room was an antique wooden box, lined with leather and felt and bearing a small plaque: "Fear no man, no matter his size, Just call upon me, I'll equalize. Samuel Colt." The pair of Colt Presentation Peacemakers inside a gift from her last commander.

((OOC: Janice will wait a little longer for the punch, which she hopes is thrown. If it doesn't come, I'll have to get creative.))

"Cadet Sartain says crystal, Sir, CRYSTAL!" She came back to a rigid attention, no hint of her real feelings carried on her face. A quick about face brought her back to Embher's close vicinity, and she was glad he was her partner for this, she wouldn't trust one of the others to understand.

Once she was close enough to be in grapple range, she caught his eye and used several hand gestures that were fairly universal in the field, keeping her back to the General.

*Watch me*
She pointed at her chin, made a fist and then closed her eyes tightly. Hopefully he wasn't hyper-strong, or he knew how hard to hit her to make it look good. She was about to take a fall.

((OOC: Let me make it clear, Janice will not engage in hand-to-hand with anyone she does not intend to finish. One of her problems is that her self control breaks down, think of it like a big switch in her head. She goes from fine and dandy to lawnmower setting, it was her training.

Also, while we are stoking Sibling's ego, Cliff (the Op's alter ego) wrote the article and we mourn the passing into the WoW of Goddess Gaia. Maybe they'll let us have an office in the new Times building! Issue 8 and now 10, we love CoH!))

The group approached slowly, not with any apparent fear, but certainly caution. There were male and female Trolls in the group, and children, but those with the young stopped some distance off. Sibling was amazed at the variety, so used to seeing only the brutish Trolls from Paragon. Here there was jewelry, well made if simple clothing, different shades of hair and even some variation in skin color.

A pair continued closer, male and female, both wearing long jackets the color of deep water. His coat had some small objects protruding from pockets, but Sibling could only see the tips of things, perhaps inspection devices or probes. She wore the same jacket, but was carrying a pad or book, and when close enough, they saw it had flashing lights along one edge.

The two stopped a few feet away and the female gestured with a pen-like device. What she said, Sibling could not understand, but it was directed at the visitors. The language was not at all harsh, a melodic quality to the words. It certainly wasn’t anything the twins had ever heard before, and they knew many languages. The woman tried again, then changed inflection, apparently trying different tongues. Diva’s face changed suddenly, understanding.

Sibling watched while Diva and the woman first, then the man, exchanged words. Apparently there was some disagreement or misunderstanding, as Diva shook her head several times and gestured. Both the Trolls conversed with Diva, making eye contact with Sibling and pointing, until Diva placed a hand on their shoulder, which apparently ended the exchange.

“Thank the Goddess that Portal has bad accuracy,” Diva turned to Sibling, “we’re a continent away.” The other Trolls had gathered back together and were speaking quickly.

“Are we where we think we are?” Sibling was fairly quick witted, and they knew this was not Earth. It also didn’t reason that just any world or place would have a language Diva spoke, she was not originally from Earth, at least not the Earth they lived on. The rueful smile told them all they needed to know. “Your world?”

“If it isn’t, it’s one long coincidence. They don’t speak the same main language here, but there is a common, sort of barter language on my world. Think of it like English, go most anywhere and someone will be able to understand. Those two,” she gestured at the two Trolls in coats, “are technicians. Looks like we landed in a nature preserve or something, and they are from the lab nearby, the others are people from the town.

“I was worried until they asked about my Clan, once I understood them.” She gestured to her horns, which were much more pronounced than anyone else in the group. “They asked if I was from the ‘far lands’,” she used a word that must have been a proper name of a country, “then I knew we were outside. You know they don’t allow women to practice Illusion or mind craft where I am from.” It wasn’t a question, Sibling had known that was part of the reason for Diva being on earth.

“So, what’s to be done?” Sibling was lost, they didn’t speak the language and had no idea of the customs. Without Diva, this would have been all but impossible. They looked up into Diva’s face, and the expression wasn’t all too sure.

“They said I have to speak to the local authorities, like the police. That will be a problem.” Now Sibling saw some real concern on her friend’s face. “In this country, the race that looks like you is rather less civilized. They called you ‘Goblin Herder’,” Diva did not like that phrase, from the set of her jaw. “Not all humans on this world are decent, a lot like back on Earth. I don’t know what all is going to happen, but they seemed to think you wouldn’t go over well.

“They don’t have a problem, but the villagers might, and it seems the police will. Humans come through periodically and sweep for Goblins, putting them to work, by an agreement with the rulers of the land. Sib, you know, I don’t know anything about how this country is put together, but it sounds like something close to feudal. They spoke about the Chief and the Council, but she introduced herself as the head of the facility, and no woman would be head of this where I was from.”

The group of Trolls had finished with their conference, some staying put, some walking back toward some low buildings in the distance. Those leaving were walking quickly, probably to inform the others about this. The two technicians were the only ones to approach, probably more used to taking charge. They were speaking to each other in the first language Sibling had heard.

“Stay close to me,” Diva said quietly, “I don’t think these two would mean any harm, but I wouldn’t bet on the police.”

Diva related that they were going to the town, and that the others were ahead of them, to get the leaders ready. Those Trolls that had stayed made a wide berth when Sibling came close, siding towards Diva and casting glances at the twins. It was odd that creatures much larger would act like Sibling was to be feared. Diva carried on a dialogue with the woman, the man adding here and there. He was Kaushal and she was Madhuri, which apparently caused her to blush when Diva wanted it said twice. Diva would listen for a few sentences and then relate to Sibling.

“Um, Sib,” after a particularly fast session, “what I said about being a herder earlier was not right. The language has few adjectives, mostly it is just basic phrases to get along.” The town was coming in sight, simple buildings made of brick and wood, some two levels, but clean and well proportioned. The road was level, very carefully made and there were walks on either side of well-fitted stones.

Sibling cocked their head, “Yes?”

“The word they used means slaver. The humans here gather Goblins and others for use as labor, and are regarded as more Brigands than decent people.” Diva was looking around quickly, there were Trolls and others walking along the streets, small shops and homes lined the road. As they saw the smaller controller, some would point, but they all had a general expression that appeared: dislike.

“This is the main place, like their City Hall.” Diva kept a hand on Sibling’s arm, also watching the small crowd that was trying to discretely follow them. Sibling could see people looking out of the glass windows of the building, and a few pretending to glance into stores a short distance away.

What amazed them was the diversity, there were all types of Trolls, carrying on everyday tasks, at least until they saw the human. Elves and even dwarves shopped together, but not one other human, and now they understood why. Far from a crude or primitive town, everything was simple, but very well built, and they had passed two windmills coming into the town. Those were certainly not for grinding grain, modern blades whispering on the wind, probably generating power.

As they entered the building, Diva noticed that none of the group came inside, except the female technician. The interior was like any efficient office, a large central area with some counters around the edges, chairs of crafted wood and three people advancing from the deeper offices through a door. They looked official, with no mistake about their destination.

Diva pushed the smaller Sibling behind her, like a protective mother as the three stopped, some other people, all Trolls wearing similar outfits, filed in. A very tall elf man, what could be a Dwarven woman and a wizened-looking male Troll faced them. Diva made a few comments, indicating Sibling and then pausing for the response.

She interpreted, without looking away from the other Trolls who were slowly moving around the room, bracketing them. “They say that I am welcome here, but want to know why the humans are sending raiding parties, against the agreements.” Puzzlement was apparent in her voice. Diva exchanged words with the group, the dwarf becoming loud and pointing at Sibling, the elf with only a sly smile.

“I don’t understand, they claim that several humans are here, all with the same Clan, but in disguise. It makes no sense…” Sibling saw the older Troll lift his cane, pointing at the Portal badges still clipped to both Sibling and Diva’s shirts. Sibling’s eyes grew wide even as D’ spoke.

“Oh no!” The elf had produced a small plastic item that matched the girls’ own, a photo of Adavan on one side.

Janice narrowed her eyes, seeing that the instructor had finally arrived, and for one reason or another decided that the information in her DD-214 wasn't good enough to excuse her from this. It was typical military fashion, try to get the soldier very angry, see what they would do, then push some more. Buck private tactics, against blood-and-guts ground pounders. She would have laughed, but knew that would really sit well with the General.

She left the bag, walked erect to within two paces of the General, and came to Parade Rest, then At Ease. Her eyes were straight ahead, but she focussed on the instructor.

"General Outrage, Recruit Sartain reports!" She waited for his acknowledgement, then continued. "Recruit Sartain has a medical profile against hand-to-hand combat. Recruit Sartain requests permission to practice with the heavy bags."

She stayed at the position of At Ease, waiting for the General's response, and afraid she knew what it would be. She would have to request either Sick Call or explain her situation if he denied her. She wasn't worried about explaining, but it would probably mean many students would not be striking up conversations with her later.

((OOC: She took her meds this morning, so she is not going to break down, but pushing this issue will get her War On. She is a soldier after all, and she knows more four letter words than Webster's, in an inventive way. She won't hesitate to explain.))

Almost forgot this thread, all you new, and old, RPers out there:
Good stuff, read this thread from beginning to end!
*bump*

Janice heard the girl cry out, and had turned toward a small knot of recruits gathering around her. From what she could gather, she had some sort of spell, fainting or nervous. She was familiar with that sort of problem, she thought of a bottle in her room, small white pills she took three times a day.

Having a good vantage over the other shorter recruits, she saw that the young woman was conscious, speaking. It didn't look like there was any need for her to add to the crowd, and the only person that seemed to understand her, the airborne guy from the other day, was amongst the crowd. It seemed he had picked up a tail anyway, so she would probably be on her own.

That was fine, she was used to it. Hard to lose what you didn't have. She squared up with the bag, warming up with basic movements, slow and deliberate. She was wondering where the instructor was, or at least someone from the academy, but maybe they had given Raymond some latitude, he seemed pretty proficient.

((OOC: Ma has no mental powers of defenses, and is dubious about all the mind powers. She can't deny their existence. but is more grounded, believing in what she can actually see. She generally doesn't hide much, ask the question and she will answer, so mind readers don't really worry her.))