((OOC: Well played, Martin would be self-conscious if he knew such a woman appreciated him, except he is dedicated to his work. He is patterned on Alfred, Bruce Wayne's butler/manservant, but without all the special ops and spy stuff. Just a proper English Butler.))
Gertrude saw the woman come in, and waited until she chose a seat before excusing herself from Jack for a moment. Between the exotic and gorgeous heroines coming in here, her tips would be few and small. A quick look confirmed what she knew, most of the male visitors were either staring or trying not to. She would ask if it bothered the tall woman, and could fix it if it did.
"Good evening, miss. I'm Gertrude, the waitress and Narshawn," she pointed to the hovering woman wreathed in frosty air behind the bar, "is the bartender. In case Martin failed to say so, welcome to Ladies by the Lake. We have the full menu in here, just served a little less formal, and pretty well any beverage you can think of."
She admired the way the tall woman wore her attitude, you could feel her confidence. The choice of colors was stark, but with her skin, very intimidating. Gal was African, dark skin, but this woman was black. Gertrude would guess not entirely human, but who was in this town?
"Should I bring you a menu, go over the specials or just admire you for a moment?" She spoke with a genuine smile.
((OOC: Gertrude flirts with men, but still has to try for tips from women. It isn't a pass, think more along the lines of one woman flattering another. She sounds like one majestic lady, hope she tells her tale.))
Isis, having finally sorted everything out got some more appropriate clothes and headed to Gal's. She had made up a sign up sheet, rules and advertising fliers to put up announcing the game. Thus, carrying a large stack of papers she entered the restoraunt, wriggling her way through the door. When the maitre'd stopped her she asked him if she could see Gal as she had some important news for her and she wasn't going to take 'no' for an answer, pushing past him to the cooking area if she had to.
She looked up as Gertrude approached and introduced both herself and Narshawn. Like Martin, both women fit in here, felt right with this place. She decided that she would most likely be coming back here, and she wasn't even going to base that on the food or drink, just the atmosphere. She cocked her head to one side as she considered... Then answered with a smile, albeit a tired one...
"Evening, Gertrude! I am the Hand of Ma'at, although you may call me "Hand" if you'd like. I know I would like the whatever-it-is that smells so good of onions...", she shrugged a little, "but as for the drink?" She paused; she really didn't know that much of alcoholic beverages. Having spent most of her life living with her Order, this was not something introduced to them until they came out to do their Mistress' work.
She looked at Gertrude again, and her smile turned a bit sheepish. "Could I leave that up to you? Something to help me relax? I will say that I have had a rough day, and have had to be resurrected twice today... And I don't care how much it costs, just nothing too harsh, please..."
Now it dawned on her what it was that Gertrude had said, and while you couldn't see it with her complexion, she was definetely blushing a little. 'Admire her'? Why? She was a little dusty, more than a little tired, and just another hero in this bar... As she finished speaking, she snuck a look around the bar, and noticed that she was getting noticed... Ah well... She was too tired to care, and she was rather used to her looks and height getting some attention, anyway... But to be admired? Once again, she realized just how much she had to learn about this outside world...
(((OOC: In case anyone's wondering, due to the way of her Order, she has taken on a title, "Hand of Ma'at", and has forsaken her own name. She also understands the need to be called something, so she accepts "Hand". This is why I don't use her name in the posts... She doesn't think that way!)))
TOONS: COH: Hand of Ma'at, Voltrana, Eve of All Hallows, Fith-Fath, Miss Sonic, Dame Death, Corporate Shadow /// COV: Sister Skull, NyghtShayde, Mourning Gory, Mistress Mayham, Lady StormDancer
SERVER: Justice (Main SG: The Honor Guards) (Main VG: The Chaos Corps)
GLOBAL: LadyStormDancer
Magnus nodded bleakly, slowly. He sighed heavily and calmed himself down.
Thank you for withholding judgement, he said.
I was born in the Philippines, and moved to San Francisco with my parents and lola when I was just a baby. Lola is the Tagalog word for grandmother, he explained. My mother and father died in a car accident when I was very young, so lola took care of me. He chuckled in fond memory of her. She loved hearing stories about the heroes of Paragon city, and how she wished there were more of them near where we lived. She talked about them all the time.
He drank more of the rose-colored liquor before continuing. I was an excellent student in school, and while in college, I assisted a physicist doing research on gravity and kinetics. She needed a human volunteer for one of her experiments. There were risks involved, but the goal was to give a person superhuman abilities. I saw this as a chance to become one of those heroes my lola admired so much, so I volunteered to be the human guinea pig.
Magnus put the glass down and smiled a little. Fortunately, the experiment was a success: I developed incredible powers over gravity and kinetic energy. The only side effect was that my hair turned blue. After college, I used my new abilities to fight crime. My lola and I eventually saved up enough money to move to Paragon, the city of heroes. I made a few friends and teamed up with heroes now and then. Lola was so very proud of me.
Magnus paused and rubbed his bruised cheek. She held me in such high-regard because of my hero status. She would brag to the neighbors about her grandson, a hero of Paragon City. My lola didnt care that the city was filled with heroes; I was the only one that mattered. In her eyes, I could do no wrong.
The young man took another big gulp of his drink. I felt it was a good time to tell her my secret.
"Well, you don't look like the typical whiskey drinker, or scotch," she carefully looked over the woman, but could not get over the deep color of her skin, "and definitely not hard liquor. You look like a refined-drink type, something that is good warm and savored."
She made a show of placing a cork pad down on the table, the coaster to protect the wood. "Take care of the table, it's alive, growing. I'll bring out a couple tastes from the bar, see if you find something to your pleasure. What you smell is probably either the onion soup, zweibelsuppe," she pronounced it 'sweebulsoup', "or the kaesespaetzle, it has sauteed onions on top. Start with the soup, it comes in a BIG bowl, Gal's a big girl herself." She smiled, a laugh just behind her hard, brown eyes.
She stopped close to the bar, and spoke quietly to Narshawn, who did not turn from her conversation with a man, but nodded to indicate she understood. The she was off to the kitchens, to return in a moment with a bowl of bread and oil for dipping.
"Soup in a minute, they warm the bowl," she swept by, carrying some plates to the pool room. "I'll be right back."
((OOC: I am keeping Gertrude moving, she should be busy, lazy waitress that chats so much....mumble... but she will pay undivided attention when Hand wants to speak. Ah, time is so wonderful, she can be in ten places at once.))
"Miss Isis, Ms. War is not in this evening," Martin stated as the stack of paper with a woman attached moved through the antechamber.
"Can I find a place for you to leave the paperwork?" He did not know what it was all for, but Gal had made clear Isis could some in any time. "I can assure you that she will see them at her earliest opportunity."
"The Phillipines, Islands these are. I understand that family is very important there, much as it is on my home. Pardon me for interrupting," she watched him drain the glass, but would wait for him to indicate if he cared for more.
She poured several drinks into short glasses, making the tray for Gertrude while still listening.
((OOC: Ooooh, suspense. Nicely done!))
"?"
Falcon Kitiara's expression was a bit confused as Martin talked about the lovely young women; could he be speaking about her? She was sure she wasn't at her top that evening: even her red aura trembled and flickered around her. Then she noticed the woman a bit ahead of her.
"Oh. Yes, it seems there are interesting people this evening."
She brought a hand to her eyes and slightly, quickly rubbed them. Lowering her hand again she said to Martin:
"A table near the fire would be greatly appreciated. Thank you, Martin. For now, I would rather have a cup of something warm - perhaps some tea? I can ask Beth what varieties of tea are available."
"I'm not waiting anyone this evening - but I would like to reserve a table by the dining room for the day after tomorrow, for 2 people, around 8:30 PM, for me and Steve, if he hasn't already reserved the table himself."
Her smile, although tired, was tinted with shyness.
[OOC: in two days she will dine with Steve, a bit of waiting won't hurt for the first elegant dinner together 
]
Isis was a bit taken aback by this bit of news.
"Err, well... d'you have some paper an' I can write her a note... who's cookin if she's not?" she misses the irony of asking for paper for a note while she is carrying an armload, "Uh, When'll she be back?"
As she was given the paper and pen she wrote, "Gal, I have gotten in touch with the globetrotters. They look forward to playing us in a few days." she signed it, "Sistah in arms, Isis Jones." and added her cell number.
"D'ya think I could have a bit to eat while I'm here?" she peers in to see who's about.
"Very good, please follow me." Martin pulled one of the menus from the neat stack and swept away, heading to the newly grown tables. He held out the chair for her, seeing that she did not have another to do so.
"I will send Beth for your preference in tonight's menu. Sadly, Ms. War is absent this evening on personal business, but the kitchen will do it's utmost to satisfy your needs. I will return in a moment with a pot of green tea, Miss Jiang's favorite, if I might suggest it, for before dinner.
"Miss Gypsy cares a bit more for the spice in her dishes than is my taste, but her veal is, in my experience, unexcelled and is served with lentils. I will leave you in Beth's most capable hands," he continued, as the younger woman arrived, looking somewhat calmer than a few minutes before. Martin bowed slightly, aware that this woman would be royalty in any civilized country, in spirit if not in flesh.
Steve had been most complimentary when Martin helped him to shop. Even now, a tailor on the fourth floor of the exclusive men's shop was stitching pants to fall just so, one crease at the laces of Steve's Italian shoes, they had settled on Fragaicomo for the fit. Martin had already purchased the pawn slip for Steve's watch, to make certain that such an item did not disappear. A handsome price it fetched when Steve parted with it, enough for a decent suit and some.
"Your table has been reserved, all it wanted was the time. Half-past eight, I shall note it." He moved with the efficiency of professional servants, stopping at the podium, then on to the kitchens for the tea.
"Miss Falcon," Beth nodded, "Should I wait for your choice, or bring you something to start with?"
((OOC: Martin misses very little, hence his suggestion for the tea.))
[ QUOTE ]
"Nice to see you back, thought you slipped out the other night. What can Ladies provide you tonight?" Her smile wa warm, and with Narshawn occupied, she thought she might get some time to chat with him.
[/ QUOTE ]
"Hey ya darlin. I can tell yer busy so I'll make it quick. I'll take a long island and whatever Gal's special is tonight." Jack smiled as he spoke a little bit of mischievousness shined in his eyes. "But hurry back I've got a present for ya." He patted the pocket of his jacket indicating that is where it was hidden.
((Thanks for the liberties with the NPCs and I'll use them sparingly.))
"I would not presume to say when Ms. War will return," the tone of his voice indicating the thought of speaking for Gal offended him. "I will certainly present the message to Ms. War, when she arrives.
"For dinner, certainly, and Miss Gypsy is in charge of the kitchens tonight. The dining room or more secluded?" He waited for her answer.
((OOC: Martin is not trying to be stand-offish, but he would not speak for his employer. Well, Martin is always stand-offish, but I am not trying to be rude, just in character 
))
Kitiara followed Martin to the table, and sat down draping her sheath to the back of the chair, as she always did. She nodded toward the kind englishman, thanking him with both words a bow of her head.
"The green tea will do, I trust your recommendations. I don't have much experience with spices, but I'm sure that everything I'm going to eat this evening will be delicious - as always."
She didn't want to steal too much time to Martin, seeing as he was always very busy. Her eyes, although tired, were also grateful for the personal attention that he had granted her; she wasn't still used to be treated with such courtesy.
While beth neared her table, she carefully touched her headpiece, without removing it. With a grimace, she felt that the wound from the unwanted speed boost was hard and swelling, moderately painful. She was sure that she hadn't fractured her skull, though. It could've been much, much worse, hitting a wall at such a speed.
Perhaps she should've gone to the toilet and check with the wound. She decided to do that later, she was more hungry than troubled about her wounds.
"Good evening, Beth. How are things going?" she asked the waitress as she came. Her eyes went to Manion's table for some seconds, almost with a will of their own, then she looked Beth again.
"Martin will bring me some green tea, that will be a good start. However, I would appreciate your recommendations too: I... let's say I have never eaten spicy dishes before now. What are miss Gipsy's specialties, and which one of them would you recommend?"
[OOC it's not that she doesn't trust Martin's veal suggestions, it's just that she is curious to know about the rest of the dishes for this evening
Beth noticed her motion and grimace, "Do you have a headache, the heat might make it worse." She apologized with her eyes, knowing what it was to have one and trying to enjoy dinner.
"As far as what Gypsy is good at, she would say Paprika is good for every ill, and Garlic can cure death." Beth smiled, the dark woman in the kitchen was constant and earnest, and Beth was fond of her. "She makes an excellent Goulasch, but it has a bite. She made a customary dish, from her country, but I can't pronounce the name. Thinly sliced beef, marinated with oil and garlic, some spices, then cooked at a really high heat briefly. I had some before we opened, it is very tasty, and served with, of course, potatoes and cabbage." She leaned close, conspiratorily.
"When Gal comes back, she'll throw a fit that Gypsy is cooking such different food. From what the people have ordered tonight, some of it may make the menu." She winked, and noticed that Martin was signalling for her to pick up the tea for Falcon. "I'll bring your tea, Martin has his hands full..."
*********
There were two women, dressed in deep, forest green tunics and pleated skirts standing by the podium. They were mirror images, in stance and actions, but obviously of different parents, one with light red skin and braided black hair and the other milk white and blonde. Neither wore a weapon, their body language and height providing intimidation enough. Martin was speaking to them quickly, pointing to the tables where the young woman in blue stood.
Martin showed them to the table, following them, which was not his usual method. The woman in blue bowed low at the waist, touching her forehead as the two approached.
"Rise Mistress, we come to see if all is ready." While one spoke, the other looked across the tables. This looked like a team, moved like one being, two women who spent months together.
"All is ready Lady Tre, all the Sisters here are aware and will come to greet the Circle. I have done all the things necessary, at your leave." The woman in blue stayed rigid, almost like she was reporting to these two.
"Lady Cinque will greet the Sisters, Mistress Felicia, please show her the way." With that, the red-skinned woman stepped behind Felicia and they made their way to the kitchen, drawing many stares. Not one of the people went unobserved, the green clad woman that stayed behind, called Tre, kept her eyes moving.
"No headache, luckily. Just a wound. I'll check with that later." Falcon smiled "Being near the fireplace is a relief when one is cold."
"I think I will have the usual mushroom appetizer, and I will try the Goulash as well. I have heard lots of things about the Goulasch, and it should be very tasty if I remember right. Since I have the feeling I will drink a lot to quench the spiciness of the meal, I would like to have a mug of light beer too."
Before the young waitress went to get Falcon Kitiara's green tea, the warrior whispered, confidentially, leaning forward:
"When you have got time, you'll have to tell me something about Manion - he seems such a fine man! -and I'll tell you something about Steve if you want."
She then turned towards the two green clad women while Beth went to get her tea. The blonde Sister was observing everybody in the pub, and when her eyes rested on Kitiara, the scandinavian woman looked her back, right in the eyes, with no arrogance; just curiosity, and genuine interest in whatever was going to happen.
Almost unconsciously, she started wondering if fighting inside those long tunics was difficult; perhaps these women weren't fighters, though. Mages, or something like that? However, how can one run and move quickly if she risks tripping into such long a tunic?
She raised her eyebrows upon hearing that the table was alive and growing... She definetely wanted to meet someone who could coax trees to grow into tables, and such nice ones at that! She also paid attention to what Gertrude was saying, as she mulled over what type of drink to bring out. She was grateful for this; there were so many varieties out here, with so many different names... The idea of something warm and smooth sounded just fine, for both food and drink, and she nodded her acceptance of Gertrude's decision.
After Gertrude swept past her into another room, she leaned back in the chair a little and began to eat the warm bread, tearing off small chunks and dipping them into the oil. Now that she had a chance, she began to look around the room at the other patrons. She saw several up at the bar, one of whom was engaged in a conversation with the woman she had been told was Narshawn. Another young woman had come in behind her, and she seemed about as worn out and battered as she herself felt. Yet another young woman had entered, although this one seemed as full of nervous energy as her arms were of papers. This one seemed to be on a mission, and things weren't going as planned... Well, hopefully she'd be able to relax in here.
It was the table with the young lady in blue that drew her attention now, though. She had appeared to be waiting for someone, and as Martin led two other young women into the bar, her wait apparently came to an end. Still eating the bread, she watched as they performed a ritual of greeting. The two appeared to be a team; looking, standing, acting very much alike. The three of them appeared to be members of an order of some kind, much like her own... She had a hunger for learning about other religions, cults, orders, etc.; her mentor said it would be a downfall for her one day. She didn't care, though... Perhaps Gertrude or another member of the staff here would know, and possibly shed some light for her...
She felt the eyes of the woman in green pass over her, but she didn't pause in her eating; she figured that if someone wanted to get her attention, trying to make eye contact with her was not a good idea. Her glowing white eyes tended to make that difficult, and even those she considered her friends really didn't even bother anymore...
TOONS: COH: Hand of Ma'at, Voltrana, Eve of All Hallows, Fith-Fath, Miss Sonic, Dame Death, Corporate Shadow /// COV: Sister Skull, NyghtShayde, Mourning Gory, Mistress Mayham, Lady StormDancer
SERVER: Justice (Main SG: The Honor Guards) (Main VG: The Chaos Corps)
GLOBAL: LadyStormDancer
Manion had been waiting for Beth to return with news of Candice when he saw her stop to help a woman at a nearby table. Although the woman was dressed less elegantly he still recognized her and wondered where her companion from the other night was.
His thoughts were cut short as two women were shown in. Their very presence seemed to draw all eyes to them as they were shown to a table. From the way Martin acted towards them, Manion guessed that these must have been the guests that Beth had told him were coming.
He watched the scene unfold, trying not to seem nosy, but definitely curious. One of the women headed to the kitchen and the other stayed, observing the room. Her eyes stopped brielfy on each of the diners and when they came to Manion, he found himself unable to divert his gaze. Normally he would have looked down, not being one to hold eye contact with anyone for fear of causing a misunderstanding. Try as he might though, he couldn't look away until she had. It was only a fraction of a second, then her eyes moved on to the others in the room.
Another little voice in his head made note that Candice had been very scarce. He figured she must still be in the kitchen, that was the last place he had seen her go. Hopefully she wasn't giving Gypsy a hard time.
Suddenly full of questions, he made a quick survey of the room again, searching out Beth.
Beth blushed when Kitiara mentioned Manion, a little self-consciously. He was a fine man, alright.
"It's going to get busy for the next little bit, the Sisters are arriving, but I will stop back by, I promise." She had returned with a steaming pot, already steeping the tea, and a large glass filled with a heady beer. "Narshawn sends her compliments, the beer is Wienstephaner Pils. Your dinner will be out soon, I think Gypsy will bring it. Please, enjoy, and I would like to hear about Mr. Broady, he seems like a nice man."
There was some noise in the kitchen, then silence. The woman in green had only just cleared the doorway, holding the swinging entry open with one foot. Her back was visible for a moment, then the door closed again.
Narshawn moved from behind the bar, hovering out into the hall and on to the foyer area of the restaurant. Gertrude would be making drinks for the next while, until she returned, and the tiny blaster nodded her thanks.
The black-haired waitress paused at Hand's table, placing a small tray with several shot glasses on it in front of her. Under each was a small card, the names of the liquors written in careful script. Brandy, Sherry, and several others.
"I thought you might like a sample, once you decide, we can get you a proper portion." She smiled at Hand.
Gypsy appeared from the kitchens, carrying a tray with Kitiara's mushrooms, and stopped by her table. Her smile was nervous, but she seemed pleased to see Falcon. Her sleeves were down, and she smoothed her pants as best she could.
"I am happy to see you! Good taste, my Goulasch is the best there is. Now, excuse me please, my Sisters have come." With that, she saught up to Narshawn, as they formed a small party near the reserved tables.
For this evening, there was a clear path from the door to the tables. Settings that normally would have been there had been moved, no chairs or tables, which was a feat itself, getting the tables to move. Martin stood aside, making himself invisible as only he could without powers, more like unobserved. A group passed the picture windows on the outside, and a moment later the door opened, letting in a number of women.
Some wore robes, all in white or blue, with hoods pulled back to expose faces form many races, many countries. There were women the shades of black, olive and white, hair from short and curly to long and carefully braided. Some smiled, some looked anxious, but their eyes were all wide. A count would find ten women, five in blue and five in white; the robes apparently some ranking system as the white robes stood each next to a blue, pairs.
As they passed into the room, Narshawn greeted them, and Gypsy stood close behind her. To the women in blue, Narshawn would grasp a forearm and speak a few words, but the comraderie was apparent, equals. The white robed women would bow, as their blue robed partner watched in approval. Gypsy did not bow, or speak, standing still.
Once those introductions were made, Narshawn spoke several words to Gyspy, and she guided the group to one table. As they proceeded, several more women entered, all in forest green, the same uniforms of the two who had entered earlier.
To these, Narshawn bowed low, genuflecting and touching her forehead. The two who had already entered, came to the podium, making greeting to these six others. This was cordial, a meeting of old friends, and was quickly over. The one called Tre touched Narshawn's head gently.
"Rise Mistress, you do not need bow to the Guard. The Circle is arriving, make ready." This woman smiled, and Narshawn walked quickly to the empty table. The women in blue and white had not taken seats, and Gypsy came close to Nar again.
A group of nine women walked through the doors, and into the presence of those that called themselves The Guard. All of these women wore green as well, but no uniforms, just the general color. Some in jackets and pants, some in dresses. One stood out, and scanned the crowd quickly, her face hidden behind a sheer drape.
Her eyes rested on Kitiara, and stayed. Something about the almond shaped eyes, intense and fierce, a recognition. Then she turned and joined the group.
There was friendly conversation here, among these women. They acted like any gathering, mentioning a triffle or complimenting each other on hair. The eight women in deep green never ventured away, they formed a subtle barrier around these women. The whole assembly moved to the tables, one extremely large woman leaning on a cane that looked woefully too thin to support her.
As they passed, one woman of the group paused to glance at a table. She stroked the fine wood, and anyone watching would have been surprised to see it lean towards her, almost as a dog would a loved owner. One of the women in uniform, as that is what the skirts and blouses were, stayed close, not being aggressive, simply protective.
Without ceremony, the women came to their table, Narshawn making great bows and Gypsy sweating about the brow. The tall woman with the cane sat, and then all the others did as well, just like that, a signal.
"Tonight, you know Sisters," her voice carried like a foghorn, even speaking intimately, "is the first full moon of the season. We sit as Sisters, as equals, all the same. Please be well, and let us enjoy this hospitality."
The conversations began, each finding their own. It was like a huge family, obviously bereft of men, but some giggling could be heard, and occassionally someone would speak from table to table.
((OOC: Gypsy and Narshawn will have to return to duties, and anyone wishing to ask could catch them on their way. The Guard are not militant protective, simply watching over their Mothers, so appraoching the table is allowed and encouraged. Gertrude would happily direct Hand to ask Narshawn what goes on. You have to ask to find out what all this is about but if you want to just carry on as usual, that;s good too. Beth and Gertrude will be around to chat.))
She smiled at Narshawn as she placed the tray with the shot glasses in front of her, but the other woman seemed a bit distracted as a group of women came into the bar. There was an air that they brought with them, and air of Sisterhood, and it brought her back to the days of living with her Order, and the bonds they made there. Her Order was not one of just one gender, but of both, as her mentor was one of the Fists of Ma'at, an older man whom she regarded as her father.
She looked down at the card that Narshawn had so kindly put under the shot glass... hmm... this would be one she remembered. A brandy, from the sounds of it. She moved on to the next shot glass, still watching the group in front of her. Apparently, the full moon carried a significance for them; judging from what the one lady said, this was a type of Gathering for their Circle. She could appreciate that; her Order place special significance on the moon as well, and although they all felt the full moon's significance, their Gatherings took place at the new moon.
She finished her third shot as the group before her broke of from the formal part of their Gathering and began talking freely. Curiosity overcame her... She went up to the bar where Gertrude had apparently taken over as bartender for a spell.
"Pardon me, Gertrude... but I simply must know. What is the name of this Gathering? I mean, are they part of an Order?" She paused, realizing that this must sound so forward... "I am sorry... but, I make a study of different groups in society, and I'm not talking about the typical stereotypes. I am interested in the societies within societies, if that makes any sense at all..."
She trails off, suddenly a little uncertain as to if her questions would be welcomed here. She realizes that this group is always welcomed here, as some of the women that worked here were part of it, whereas she is a newcomer... She quickly finishes off the fourth shot, not really feeling it as it goes down, and deciding that it would not be a favourite of hers... (Alcohol was never really a problem for her; her metabolism made it so that she always had to drink very large quantities in order to make an obvious effect on her.)
TOONS: COH: Hand of Ma'at, Voltrana, Eve of All Hallows, Fith-Fath, Miss Sonic, Dame Death, Corporate Shadow /// COV: Sister Skull, NyghtShayde, Mourning Gory, Mistress Mayham, Lady StormDancer
SERVER: Justice (Main SG: The Honor Guards) (Main VG: The Chaos Corps)
GLOBAL: LadyStormDancer
Falcon Kitiara nodded to Gypsy: "I am happy to see you too, with Gal away you must be very busy in the kitchen. I hope I'll see you later, to thank you for the Goulash."
Then Gypsy went to greet her... friends? Her fighting group? Or something else? Falcon couldn't really figure out. They didn't seem exactly friends, what with the genuflexing and bowing. Looking at the group of robed women, she putted in her mouth a piece of Goulash and started chewing it. Her eyes watered a bit: it was tasty and saucy, but it sure was spicy! She decided to eat the stew in smaller pieces, accompanying it with bites of bread, to dilute the spiciness.
Other women kept arriving, all with robes or tunics, white or blue, plus there were the green ones that entered before the others. Somehow, it didn't seem... proper to go and disturb them, or even to stare at them too insistently; both the clothing and the ceremonial revealed how those women were part of a group, perhaps a religious one, an order. She wasn't part of that order, simple as that.
She enjoyed her meal: the mushrooms were delicious, as always. She had already decided they were a fixed dish for her, something she just couldn't eat when at Gal's. The Goulash was tasty and juicy as she had heard from various sources, and the bread helped her with a spiciness she wasn't used to.
She had drunk the first mug of light beer, and had just started the second one, when she thought that was a good moment to go to the toilet and check the wound. She stood up, and with an automatic gesture she took the sheathed sword with her.
Inside the ladies' room, she leaned toward the great mirror, and after checking that no one was around to see, she removed her headpiece.
Her hair fell down her back, her shoulderpads and her bosom like a red waterfall, surpassing her belt of a good 5 inches; Kitiara removed her gloves and soaked her hands with fresh water, then passed them on her hair to keep them far enough from the wound and to be able to see it.
She grimaced again, this time because of the wound's aspect. Well, at least it didn't seem to be infected. The color of the skin around the little cut was a deep violet, somewhere already turning to black, a bad ematoma. The wound itself was a mess of dried blood, and the inside of her headpiece was too.
She sighed, shaking her head. Good thing she hadn't removed the headpiece in the pub. She soaked a paper towel, and used it to clean the headpiece until no trace of blood could be found on it; she then bent over the sink and washed her face, until her face was clean of all the old blood.
Falcon dried her face with another paper towel, then she putted her gloves on and her headpiece back on her head: the metal pressure on the wound was annoying, but not really painful, unless she directly touched her headpiece pressing it against her forehead.
With some locks still wet from the sink water, Falcon carefully washed the sink to remove any traces of blood, and went out of the ladies' room again; a bit relieved (it wasn't bad as a fractured skull would have been), she strided toward her table.
Gertrude paused in pouring a mug of beer, looking up from her concentration. Narshawn had a way with tap beer, keeping the head just so, and Gertrude did not. Her attempts were pour and stop, pour and stop, apparently this was not her arena.
"I can tell you a little, but Narshawn would be the expert. They are The Sisters, formally Ladies of the Lake, and you're right, they are religious. What that means, well, that I can't say, but I know what has been in the papers and what was reported during the War. I know this much because Nar has talked a little about it, but they don't recruit or proselytize.
"From what she's said, they have lived in Talos, on an Island, for over a hundred years, and came here from somewhere else. She makes it sound like the their faith has been around a long time, long time," her expression changed for a moment, considering, but this woman appeared to be interested.
"I'd never heard of them until the Rikti War, at the time I lived with my Ex, still married to him, about six blocks from the Medical Center in Talos. The aliens," she used the word with scorn, but that same term could apply to half of the heroes in the city, "came fast, most people were just getting up when the ship appeared. News reports went ballistic, emergency sirens and all, then most phones and radio went out. Police say they were jammed to prevent coordinated resistance." The woman delivered a beer down the bar, and made some drinks for a platter that Candice was now carrying. Apparently, Martin had reassigned her.
"It was chaos, the police running around and heroes coming out of everywhere. The news had just reported what was happening and the front door came down, two women in green and most of our neighbors in the apartments were standing in the hall. That was the first time I ever saw a Sister, the two of them rounding up civilians to get them safe."
She pointed to one of the women at the tables, a taller lady wearing a long Katana on her back and a semi-transparent mask. "That Lady, called herself Lady Gemini, she was one of them, she saved all of us. It wasn't five minutes after we got out of the building that some stray fire from the battle knocked our houses flat. Took us to some mine shafts near the shore and got us inside."
She was watching the woman she mentioned, a touch of sadness in her eyes. "As we went down, I swear I saw an island out in the middle of the open water. Never been there before, all sparkley. Over top of it was one of the ships, and big suckers those things are. She, and some others, watched that ship rain fire on the island, trees burning, steam rising where lasers and stuff hit it.
"That Lady, the big one there," she pointed again, drawing Hand's gaze to the giant woman with the cane, "she was there too. She must have been the leader, because some wanted to go to the island and she told them all to stay. I'll never forget what she said: 'Watch the people, protect the children.' Sent some of the others into the tunnels to guard us."
She looked up from her reverie, catching sight of Narshawn as she moved back to the bar. The small ice woman smiled, even laughed to herself. When she arrived at the bar, Gertrude motioned to Hand and mentioned that she asked about the gathering.
"Indeed," Narshawn continued, Gertrude making her way on her rounds, and pausing to give Candice a hard stare. The other waitress had been chatting with a patron while others looked around for service. Not long for this place, Gertrude would prefer to work alone rather than carry someone else.
"There is no shame in asking, and I would gauge you to be a woman of some faith as well." She made a motion towards Hand's attire and general self. Discipline like hers was often the sign of the devout, some worshipped dieties, some skills, but it was all faith.
"This is The Circle, the intimate close and high of my Order," she motioned to the group in green, then pointed as her words identified individuals. "The Guard, they are the sworn bodyguards that always accompany travels of any of The Circle. They wear the skirts and carry no weapons, their discipline being a weapon. They are a team, live, eat and fight together.
"Those elder women, they are Ladies. The Sisters have many marks of our skills and place, the color of your clothing being the easiest to see. White is initiate, novice; blue is Mistress, learned in powers, but not yet wise. I am a Mistress in the Order, my mentor is a Lady who watches over me, trains me and is called Mother. My Mother is Lady Gemini, the sword wielder at the table. All I know about the faith, about life, about being a hero, she has taught me.
"Lastly, the high rank is Lady, and they wear green to show their connection to the Great Mother Gaia. Every Sister learns and studies throughout their life, not just the faith, but law, or botany, or aerospace engineering, or one of thousands of other skills. A tenet of the faith is that we must 'Do Good', by helping others." She paused, explaining her faith was not so difficult, but there were patterns within patterns, and the whole story would take years. Even Sisters took years of study to grasp how the patterns wove together.
"These are only a few of The Sisters, you see the Initiates with their Mistresses?" She waited for Hand to look that direction. "The young learn many skills, and perform menial tasks for their mentors. This leaves the mentors free to work, since they must provide food and necessities for their 'Daughters". You see, it is all learning, to live yourself and to care for others. Tonight is the first full moon of Spring, a celebration of fertility, when the world begins to bloom again. We celebrate this by honoring our young, and the Initiates and Mistresses are treated as equals, the normal court rules suspended. For what you see tonight, there is usually much more formality and protocol."
She smiled shyly, this woman was striking and curious. Her questions were welcome. "Would you care to meet my Mother? To meet The Circle, it is allowed on such a night."
((OOC: Sorry for the length of the post, this is a subject I have taken pains to create. Based loosely on a known religion, I could get more detailed, but suffice it to say the entire spectrum of The Sisters is represented. There are girls of 13 and women old enough to be grandmothers, all of different personalities. Questions don't bother them, the search for knowledge is what their lives are for. Oh, the faith may be 100% female, but many have husbands or male friends.))
"Well, that must have gone well," Beth caught Manion's attention. "Gypsy's back in the kitchen, and I don't think I have ever seen her sweat like that." She smiled. "Martin stuck Candice in the bar, she screwed up two orders already, and he won't have her being near the Sisters.
"You look puzzled. Is it the group?"
A woman, from the group, stood near Kitiara's chair, apparently waiting for her return. When she saw the warrior returning, she held out one open palm in greeting, the almond eyes above the half-mask penetrating. Something in her accent seemed familiar...
"You carry a sword, and I know you." Asian from the inflection, hair in tight buns held by wooden pins, her scarred left hand held out if Falcon wished to grasp it. "I do not wish to disturb you, but one of my Order asks if you would spare time to speak. A moment, no more." The was a question in her tone.
((OOC: She only asks for a moment of Falcon's time, and will accept no for an answer.))
As she was led to the hallway leading to the bar, she inclined her head to Martin, acknowledging his compliment. The smell of the food really was distracting her... And did she smell onions?
"Thank you, sir! I do not know who Narshawn is, but I look forward to meeting her tonight."
Martin left her at the entrance to the bar and headed back to the podium. She looked after him; older he may be, but definetely a breath of fresh air to someone who was quickly becoming a bit jaded in this city. She turned and took in the bar itself, noticing the rather small woman hovering behind the counter and the other patrons as well. A small table that seemed out of the way was what she made her target, though; she really wanted to sit and relax at an actual table, just stretching her legs and back out.
Taking a seat, she looked around and decided that, so far, she really liked this place. She leaned closer to the table examing the wood, and decided that she really had no clue what it was, although it was beautiful. She leaned back in her chair, doing a sort of cat-stretch (and not really caring if anyone cared; they were all heroes, or used to being around them with all of their kinks and aches) before settling back down. Looking over at the bar, she waited to catch the eye of someone on the staff...
(((OOC: I know you said we could do some action with the NPCs; however, I don't want to step on someone else's storyline! lol)
TOONS: COH: Hand of Ma'at, Voltrana, Eve of All Hallows, Fith-Fath, Miss Sonic, Dame Death, Corporate Shadow /// COV: Sister Skull, NyghtShayde, Mourning Gory, Mistress Mayham, Lady StormDancer
SERVER: Justice (Main SG: The Honor Guards) (Main VG: The Chaos Corps)
GLOBAL: LadyStormDancer