She could stand her curiosity no longer, and the creature seemed willing to talk. "What are you?"
((OOC: Narshawn is made of ice, but has never been to any pole or seen penguins before, or polar bears or the like. Where she is from, most creatures are crystaline based, salt, ice or stones. She has lived long on Earth, but has rarely been off her Island Home, and is very curious about odd things, but shy to say so.))
((OOC: No not at all, just didnt want to stiff anyone is all, thanks for the clarification. 
))
Hearing that the check was "lost", Manion was more than a little confused. He must have missed something. Not wanting to seem rude, he decided he was still going to leave a tip. He took two tens out of his wallet, and walked over to Beth.
"Please take this, for you and Gal. You all have been too nice to me, considering I haven't been nearly as friendly as I would have liked. I insist." He placed the folded bills in her hand. "I'll try to be back soon, thank you again."
He left a little bit full, and more than a little bit worried. He was already dialing a number on his cell phone before he got out the door.
((OOC: Sorry I know Im a bit behind, hope I dont mess things up too bad here. I'll be back on schedule next post promise.))
Gal wipes a hand on her towel and holds it out, "Gal, Gal 'O War, owner and cook. I'm glad ta meet another Sistah, don't see many around this far north. See you found Fulton's Reserve, hope it's ok. Made by some relatives in Missourah," she winks and laughs.
Isis takes her hand in a triple handshake, "Isis Jones, actress an' heroine. Fulton's is awright but with my power it aint doin' much. I don' drink much really, I jus' needed to relax an' it seemed right at the moment. The good thing is if I'm hurt it don' bleed long but I hafta eat a lot."
Isis picks up her plate to follow Gal to the cooking area.
The next afternoon, Falcon Kitiara arrived in front of the doors in Kings' Row with a perfectly clean outfit, and a nearly perfect landing, closing her eyes to enhance her concentration; her flight was as natural as the rest of her abilities: for quite a long time she had believed that only heroes relying on magic, or their mutations, or some tech gadget, or again the latest discoveries of science, could be able to fly, so for the same period she had thought that some nordic divinity had granted her the power of flight.
Upon arriving in Paragon City, though, she had met lots of people at E.L.I.T.E., which had explained to her how a natural hero can learn to fly, hover, and even grant these powers to other people. It was enough to substitute the mystical reverence she felt while flying with a deep meditation; on one hand, it had been a bit sad discoverying that no god or goddess had taken a personal interest in her, on the other hand it was much more exhilarating to fly, knowing that this power was hers forever, and not lent from anyone. Her control had greatly improved since then, and there had been times when she was called upon to save a less experienced superhero stuck inside a dangerous security zone, granting him the power to fly as well and escorting him to the nearest yellow line station.
[OOC no need for me to clarify it as I'm sure you guessed it, she has all flight powers, all heavily slotted to enhance speed and reduce endurance cost.]
As for her clean costume, she had fought Riktis, with their acid - dissolving monkeys, and nemesis, and waded into a sewer as well; but she was wearing another of her costumes, and this one was not only cleaning, but almost sparkling with light.
Golden, folded combat boots, a snowy white skirt, snowy white thigh trousers under it. Skirt and trousers decorated on the sides with golden tribal symbols. Golden V belt, white shirt with a round hole in the middle, leaving an ample part of her breasts and her tattoo clearly visible; the lines of her tattoo were traced with magical inks, because they had changed their color and were now light and dark golden. She had long elongated golden shoulderpads, but her headpiece stayed the same, as well as her hair and her face. Her aura had changed as well, it was fuller of light, white pure rays; every time she put this costume on, she felt positive and in a happy mood, maybe because she was helping some other heroes against Vazhiloks and outcasts; but her aura quickly became red again whenever she losed that feelings. And the evening before, she was... tense, to say the least. However it may be, she put her hand, now protected by a small, white glove, on the handle, and went in. Her cape, the only thing that wasn't perfectly white or golden in her attire (red on the outside, with black tribal symbols, dark grey on the inside, with the same black tribal symbols) waved behind her gently.
[OOC yeah I know I know, I like to describe my costumes, so what? 
By the way, her face you can see in the avatar, I finally figured out how to upload an image on imageshack!]
She went inside the bar, and sat on a bar stool, waiting for her turn, and casually listening to rock hopper's words. She turned her eyes (and very slightly, her head) toward him when she talked about the French: since she couldn't see his face, she didn't know if he was joking or not.
So it was with a certain caution that when Narshawn came to her, she asked for "...A Chimay Rouge, please"; she was wondering how the other hero would react.
[OOC this way rock hopper can jump in or not, as he wishes Chimay Rouge is a french beer, double malt, red, done by trappist friars in their abbey. She doesn't know if they have it here, but she'll ask anyway.]
Gal was happy to see another woman of color in the place, she missed the south sometimes. "Hope you like the food, my mamaw taught me how to cook. Saint Louis, wrong side of the tracks, where I'm from."
She seated Isis and made sure she had a good view, close to the action. "Where'd you say you're from?"
((OOC: Isis will get the royal treatment, love to hear her story.))
Beth was taken aback as she called another group from the bar, seeing Falcon come in, her simple elgance was amazing. Narshawn was just serving the Chimay, and asking if she wished it cool, since they did not keep it refrigerated.
"Miss Falcon? You look lovely tonight. Are you expecting others or are you dining alone? I can have your meal brought to the bar if you like." Martin was just returning from seating some others, and his look approved of Falcon's wear.
"I would promote the special this evening, Miss. Ms. 'O War makes a very fine Prime Rib."
((OOC, Beth would see Falcon in the bar, and assume she is dining from her lovely attire. Please describe to the hilt, it makes the world more real. 
If Falcon wishes a dining partner, she just simply has to imply it, Martin can feel these things.))
Falcon bowed her head slightly toward Narshawn "I would like it cool, if it is possible, thank you.". She looked at the ice lady with attention, admiring the way her features cracked and melted, then were born again like her home's glaciers. "I'm sure it would be no trouble for one as gifted as you."
She took care of waving slightly towards Beth, enough to make sure that Beth knew she was greeting her, not enough to make Beth think that she was calling her, and distract her from her duties.
Falcon rewarded Martin's appreciative comment with a sincere smile; after all those long, lonely years in the woods, she wasn't used to appreciations and compliments as lots of young women of her age were. She was also pleased that Martin's had recognized her, even if he had seen her only once; yes, she liked this place each day more than the day before.
"Why, thank you. I'm not expecting anyone" she said, not betraying any emotion with her expression, but with a very slight pause after these words "but I would like to dine here at the pub this evening if it is possible, in a couple of hours let's say. I'll follow your suggestion about the Prime Rib - I'm sure it's going to be delicious."
She paused slightly, then she asked "...If miss Jing Jiang is here, I would like to greet her. Could you tell her that I am here?"
She wasn't really interested in watching the football matches, and since Jing's company the day before had been really pleasant, she would've liked to repeat that experience. But also talking with someone else was an option; she was sure that anyone Martin would bring her, would've been a pleasant company, as Jing had been the night before.
Even if she had fought all day, 'til morning, and felt her muscles aching, she had found that coming here after a hard day of combat was more relaxing than practising meditation in the loneliness of her small apartment.
[OOC Falcon has no mask, her face is plainly seen, she has no secret identity, and is a full-time hero. This causes her no problems, since she doesn't have a family, or friends, that villains can kill or torture to get their revenge, and her apartment is well shielded against incursions.]
"Hope you like the food, my mamaw taught me how to cook. Saint Louis, wrong side of the tracks, where I'm from. Where'd you say you're from?"
Isis began eating rather ravenously, speaking between bites, "I come from New York but I move tah hollywood for a while where I did a few movies. I then had my accident. My career was dyin anyway so I went home 'til I could a'scept my condition. Gangs started gettin bad so, I used what I learned in my movies and my new powers an' started cleanin' up the place, you know?"
She sighed as she finished eating she was still hungry but was hesitant to ask for more food incase she looked like a pig.
"Indeed Ms. Kitiara, though Ms. Jiang rarely announces her presence beforehand. I have yet to see her this evening," Martin maintained a manner of aloofness, as though he took little notice of trivialities, but paid strict attention to his guests, in the manner of a well trained Butler.
Narshawn grasped the glass holding the Chimay, and a look of intense concentration followed. Making something cool, but not frozen, was much more difficult than just turning it into ice. As the first crystals of ice formed on the rim of the glass, condensed from the air, she stopped and hoped the liquid would remain drinkable. She smiled at Falcon's comments, knowing that her security clearnace would belie the woman's belief in her skill.
"In fact, Miss," Martin continued after Narshawn had handed over the cooled drink, "I received a reservation from a gentleman, who's character I can vouch for, requesting a table near others. As I suspect the room will become crowded, your sharing the table would sit well with the house."
He was needed back in the main dining room, but did not appear rushed, another talent. "He generally dines in the Bar, and may appear somewhat...antiquated, in mannerisms. I will be glad to introduce you when he arrives, and if Ms. Jiang arrives later, will inform you."
"Enjoy your beverage, and our hospitality." With that he strode, purposefully, into the restaurant.
"There are some more quiet tables there," Narshawn pointed along the wall. Service," she made a show of looking around for Gertrude, "is not as good as the restaurant, but I'll serve you myself if the waitress does not soon appear."
****
"Hollywood? Girl, you must have been big time! An ya had me fooled with the accent, would'a swore you were 'Bama or a southern girl." Gal's accent became much more pronounced as she spoke with Isis, falling back to rhythms from her childhood.
"Good lookin' girl like you should still be makin' movies, gots a nice body. I'd pay eight bucks ta see ya." She smiled wide, keeping pans and plates cooking. She noticed that there was dwindling food on Isis' plate, and threw another piece of Salmon on the Salamander.
"You still hungry? Gotta keep your strength up, you wanna fight crime. Me? I plow through enough ta feed an army," she glanced down at her thighs, "an it shows."
((OOC: Gal is conscious of her weight, and being extremely tall makes her more so. She is also a woman who appreciates women, but would not make a pass at Isis, as she has a steady partner, who she refers to as her "wife". Just be aware she will appreciate Isis' form. Nothing you don't want, nothing lewd, but giving you warning.))
"Us small ones have to stick together" D Ceet said, "I like your look, its not something you see everyday", she sipped her lemondade, it was slightly chilled which was how she liked it. "you must save a fortune on ice cubes."
(OOC btw the way she doesnt mean to be rude, but usually says the first thing out of her mouth, which can be a slight handicap 
).
Rock-hopper looked at the small woman in surprise, at first, then a smile creased the edges of his eyes.
"What am I? Some times I gotta wonder meself. But, near as I figure it, I'm mostly human, with a bit of penguin thrown in fer flavour. Throw on to that a dash of chemicals and radiation and you got me. Rock-hopper's the name, how'dya do?."
When the other woman approached and ordered her beer, Rock-hopper's eyes widened a bit, and he turned around to face her.
"Sorry, miss, 'bout that french remark. Meant no offense, you see. Just tryin' to get my friend's lather up."
((OOC: sorry about the late reply... woulda been sooner, but my internet's been acting up.))
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
(It's supposed to be like 70's ghetto but I'm not very good at it. Hah)
Isis blushes a bit, "The movies I made aint popular now though I'm really surprised you never heard a me. I made it big but nothin last ferever." She nods, "I'd love more. I eat for an army too but don't gain nothin fer it. Your cookin is amazin though. So's it all you do is work here? You got your own powers or somethin?"
((OOC: assume that Narshawn is speaking to Rock and D at slightly different times.))
Narshawn was at first taken aback, then smiled at the forwardness of the small woman's comment. She had apprenticed with Lady Gemini, and while her tutor was blunt, she was also very reserved. Differences in culture, but Nar appreciated being up-front, and would not take offense, even if the comment seemed somewhat personal.
"Ice cubes, yes, I suppose that would be true," her smile was punctuated by rows of very pointed teeth. Her lips were almost clear, and once someone had seen the teeth, even with her mouth closed, they would see them as shadows. "It is not by choice, this," she waved at the frosted air surrounding her. "I try to have more control."
"Books and tomes have no such aversion to cold, and since I do not sleep, I have spent whole weeks in libraries. This interaction with others can be...draining." She noticed that the other woman seemed to be enjoying the drink. "The lemonade is freshly made, from fresh fruits that come from my garden. Lemons are one of the only fruits that are safe for me."
She paused, realizing she was occupying the other woman and monopolizing her time. "I am sorry, meeting someone my own stature has made me forget my manners. I am Narshawn, Daughter of Lady Gemini and Mistress of Winter."
She held out one hand, fingers pointed up in gesture, but did not make a move to grasp the other woman's hand.
"Frostbite, be careful not to touch me." Her smile returned, out of character but warm.
((OOC: Narshawn has time for those at the bar, and the story about D would interest her much, being that she leads a VERY protected life. She may be naive with actual things, but is book read about a huge number of things, just inexperienced.))
*******
"A penguin? These are animals that live in the cold," she stated, like from a textbook and not as though she knew it firsthand.
Her curiosity was not dimmed, but she had been taught better than to delve deeply into things not offered. The pitcher of beer poured, she placed it on the bar, after laying down a towel under the glass. She did not want to risk injuring the man/penguin, he seemed nice enough.
"There is also a music box, if you want to hear music, and the smoking section is clearly marked. Do not smoke outside of it, thank you," she had returned to her lecturing tone, like reading from a page. "The waitress is named Gertrude, she will retrieve food or beverages for you."
"Speaking of which," she glanced around the room, spotting the black haired woman chatting with a couple in the corner. "Gertrude? Do you have a moment?"
((OOC: Narshawn will be busy, but Gertrude will chat all night, much to her bosses consternation, for those that wish to.))
"Wish I could afford to only cook," Gal said as she slid another portion of Salmon and potatoes onto Isis' plate. "I got inta some trouble back home, runnin' with gangs and stuff, an had to leave. Got inta more trouble out here, had a few relatives that live in Virginia, and ended up in jail." She spoke to the grill, not totally embarrassed by the account, but not willing to look into the older woman's eyes either.
"Funny thing, being in jail. Made me madder than before, but I had grown to this, and pretty well ran my cellblock. Wasn't nothin' serious, four months for smackin around a guy was abusin a woman outside a bar. So, did my time and when I got out, this woman had offered me probation workin' for her. Judge accepted the deal and turned me over, probation and all. Since then, I been training to or fightin the gangs."
"Sorry about not knowin the name, I don't watch much TV or movies. My trainin is pretty intense, for some years I never saw the city, only the Island. Got me a whole lot better centered, calmed me down, helped me learn to control the powers I have."
She held out one hand, and removed a dully-glowing cast iron skillet from high heat. Laying the skillet in her palm, she continued to sautee the mushrooms in it, turning them with a spatula in the other hand.
"Comes in pretty handy sometimes, hard as stone." She winked at the other woman, "Hell on the complexion though." She allowed a small laugh.
"Now you, know I haven't seen you before on film. I'd remember a fine lady like you, girl can appreciate the female form, too. Ya say you're out here fightin for the good too, tell me."
((OOC: Gal is a stone stone tank.))
"I know what you mean? I did some time too, it turned me around. My mama and papa were so upset. I decided to do better, to make them proud. So I started tryin an' whent tah school an' in my free time I took some martial arts classes. I got into movies when someone saw me practicin at the dojo. He offered me a roll in a movie. Not a big role, but it got my name in lights and I got a big role after that.
Anyway, it's nice to not be famous. I don't gotta worry 'bout the press or nothin. Maybe one day I'll come back but I don't think I will any time soon. My only power is fast healing and eating lots. It's embaracin, ya know. Especially with everyone tryin to be fit, I can't help it."
Rock-hopper got up and leaned against the bar, hands on the serving towel.
"Thanks, luv. Your blood's worth bottling, and no mistake. Take care."
With that, he grabbed the pitcher and glasses, and went to join his companions at the pool table. Sitting on the towel where he had been resting his hands, slowly melting in the heat of the bar, was a small penguin formed of solid ice.
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
Shortly after he arrived at the pool tables, Gertrude made an entrance, clearing dishes from the tables. She quickly noticed the oversized penguin and his companions, and walked over to their group.
"Mister Penguin?" she caught his attention, and held out a tray. The most surprising thing was what sat on the tray.
Peeping and bobbling about, confined by the high lip of the tray, was the same penguin. It appeared animated, and made noises.
"Narshawn said to say thank you, and drinks are on her for this round." Gertrude smiled and set the tray down.
((OOC: unlike the game, Narshawn can control ice and animating it is a power she holds. Nothing fancy, the penguin is not alive, just mobile and will melt. She wanted to show her gratitude, and her humor to someone with a sense of one.))
Falcon Kitiara answered the Penguin hero with a smile: "I'm sure you didn't want to offend. I'm not french myself, but I do come from europe. I have a bit of confidence with americans' remarks on frenchmen, though, so I know it's usual to hear them around... once I teamed up with an hero that had to make absolutely sure that I wasn't french before we started our patrols." she shook her head, more amused that annoyed at the though, sipping her beer.
Then she nodded toward Rockhopper to take her leave while he went to join his friends, and she answered to Martin, hoping she hadn't taken from the maitre too much precious time.
Falcon listened to Martin's words, then she replied "I will be glad to dine with the gentleman you're talking of. I'm sure I will enjoy your hospitality as much, if not even more, than I did yesterday."
While the man strode into the restaurant she nodded toward Narshawn, and said "Thank you for your advice. I hope that it won't be necessary for you to personally serve me, I wouldn't want to slow down your work here at the bar." she passed her gloved hand on the living wood as if caressing it, as she would've done inside a forest, caressing the gnarly bark of an ancient oak.
Then with a slight bow of her head, she chose one of the tables near the wall, and she sat down, crossing her legs, and accommodating her cape so that the very end of it rested on her thighs, and stayed as clean as snow.
[OOC are some snacks, like peanuts, chips and the like, at the table, or should one ask for them? If the second is true, she has also asked for some.
By the way, the bit about being or not being french really happened to me. "Hey you're not french aren't ya??" LOL - he could've kicked me out of the team! Some people. ]
Rock-hopper retrieved the small ice penguin from the tray and set it on the edge of the pool table, where it began happily bobbing again, circling in slow laps around the table. He raised his glass in salute to the woman behind the bar.
"Feel free to join us if ye get bored! We don't bite. Well," He hiked a thumb at the scaled man, "Basilisk here might, but we'll keep him off."
The yellow-lensed sunglasses obscured Dark Basilisk's eyes too much for them to be seen, but his expression made it clear that he was casting Rock-hopper a dirty look.
"Fine. Insult the freak. That's it... Ehh, screw it. I'm off to commit some suicide."
From one pocket in his cargo pants, he pulled out a packet of smokes. He grabbed the beer that Rock-hopper had poured for him and headed into the smoking area. Rock-hopper waved a dismissive hand at him, then turned his attention back to his beer. Frowning slightly, he pulled the gas mask out of the way, and quaffed the entire pint in one long pull. He smacked his lips and reset the gas mask in position. He returned his attention back to Corvus.
"Alright. Pool-time." He pointed a meaty finger at her, "And no funny stuff this time."
The two began playing a game of pool, with the woman in black and blue easily taking an early lead in the first game.
((OOC: Actually, Rock-hopper's an Aussie. The only reason he rags on the french is that Corvus is French, and she "cheated" him out of $100 playing darts, and using her heightened sense of accuracy. I know what you mean about discrimination of the french, though. I'm French-Canadian myself, and while I'm not Quebecois, I still put a french emphasis on some words. I've been dropped from teams for paying attention to the accents. Not that I want to play with anyone who hates me for my language, but I reported them anyway.
Oh, and btw, Basilisk's remark about suicide is just what he calls smoking. No need to be alarmed.))
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?
A short while later, Gertrude appeared from the kitchens and made a direct line for Falcon's table. She was sometimes brash, and definitely flirtatious with patrons, but she tried to be respectful. Her life had not been easy, but wearing that on your sleeve wouldn't have helped with her job, so she kept a lot away from work.
"Miss Kitiara? Martin asked me to tell you the gentleman is here. He's a little nervous, after Martin told him he was sitting with a lady." She grinned sheepishly, "He's not your average guy, but he's nice enough. Don't be put off by his looks, I think bald guys are cute."
She turned to go, then spun around again. "Oh, his name's James Broady, but he goes by Steve. That's his middle name. Shall I go to fetch him?"
((OOC: James Steve Broady is a figure from American legend, real but almost mythical today. His train, No 1102, was the famous "Old 97" featured in many songs as "The wreck of the old 97". He has been dead, or in limbo, for over 100 years and called back to protect innocents in payment for his rash actions that led to innocent deaths long ago. He is a fire/fire blaster, with little understanding of modern ways and conveniences. He will be very conscious of Ms Falcon's regal bearing, but also willing to find out more about the modern world. Who better to tell him?
Gertrude would have brought a bowl of unsalted peanuts or pretzels when Falcon arrived, and probably apologized that they come in a wooden bowl, since Falcon is looking ravishing this evening ))
*********
Narshawn was actually pleased to see the penguin tottering about, as it gave Gertrude something to do, other than gab with the patrons. About every five minutes, she would send the girl to wipe up the water trail on the table's edge to prevent damage to the wood.
"You need anything else right now?" she said to Hopper's group as she chased the rapidly diminishing bird. "You know, something to eat or more beer?" She was carefully eyeing the scaly hero, not really sure whether he was safe to stand near.
((OOC: Let's say that Gertrude has a certain fear of reptiles.))
"I understand some of it. Can't say I've ever had the worry of being famous, though. Most press I have ever got is in this city, with this place." She laughed, low and booming.
"What's it like workin' in movies? It seems like it would be fun, and if you gots powers, would make it even more. Can't say I'd like givin' up time for other things though, hardly have enough as it is, and all that going and coming actors have ta do." She paused, stretching her back and looking over the restaurant. Vegas and Martin had everythng in hand, from what she could see.
"You got an SG or somethin'? Or do you work solo?"
Falcon Kitiara wasn't wearing her right glove when Gertrude arrived: she was using her right index and thumb to pick up a pretzel now and then, and bring it to her mouth. Her naked hand had delicate features, short palm, long graceful fingers, short fingernails. An elegant hand. But if she had turned her hand upside down, one could've seen the hardened skin, lots of calluses under the fingers and on the fingerpoints, traces that her broadsword had left her, signs of a very hard training and a constant daily use. Coincidentally, even if her hand was unsuited for fistfights without using at least a padded glove or a hard leather one, it was perfectly suited for slaps and all kind of hits using the palm of her hand.
She brought to her lips her fingers and slightly lapped the points, a spontaneous gesture that her wild past had left her, then she used a paper towel to dry them, and put on her glove again.
"Yes, bring mister Broady here, please." she replied, crossing her fingers together. His name was of course unknown to Kitiara. She now knew that he was bald: she was curious about the rest of his features as well.
[Of course, Kitiara doesn't mind the wooden bowl; she has thanked gertrude as politely as always when she brought her the pretzels About James Steve Broady, very good interpretation is on the way since not only the character but also the player knows nothing about him ]
Isis sighs and pauses a moment as she reminises, "'s like, a wonderful thing t'be famous. Like you can go anywhere you want and you don hafta show your ID, everyone knows you. You get into alla the sweetes' places.
But atta same time you gotta watch what you do an say. I got in trouble a coupl'a times that's kina when my c'reer started slippin. Then I had my... accident an' when I walk 'way an' my man didn' it hurt. I dunno if you got a special man in your life but to lose him when you're just fine. You start to question things." she sighs again, "I donno, maybe I'm too ol' fer movies now. I tol' myself I'd try an get back but... Prettending to be Isis an' actually bein' Isis... well, I feel I'm maken a difference this way.
Makin' movies is a lotta work. You gotta get up early an' go t'bed late. You gotta do an' say the same thing over 'n' over. It's kinda like the army I imagine. You gotta follow orders to the letter an' if you mess up the director's yellin' at you. He might not call ya names to your face but you know he's thinkin' 'em.
For now I'm solo but there's a group I might join if I wan'ed to."
Martin led a man much larger than himself from the hallway that connected the Restaurant and the Bar. The man moved somewhat awkwardly, looking around him with a gaze that spoke of too much new sensory input in too short a time. Perhaps slightly over six feet, completely bald, his bulk would not look out of place on a professional body-builder.
His eyes were blue, glowing blue like warm steel, matching his deep blue denim pants and denim shirt. As he walked, he flexed large hands, gloved in leather and denim, something similar to what a boilermaker or foundry worker would wear. The eyes were odd, but the flushed color of his red skin was the first thing most noticed, like he had been dipped in boiling water, scalded.
As Martin and the man approached, Kitiara saw his thick moustache and gleaming teeth, he laughed at some joke from the Maitre 'd, whisps of steam rising from the corners of his mouth. His voice and laugh were deep, and had an odd echoing quality. like the sound came from a large barrel. With a thick right arm, he unconsciously stroked one side of his bushy facial hair, the only hair apparent on him. Once he saw the direction, and destination, Martin was taking him to, he seemed to hesitate.
"Oh, Mart, I'm nah dressed ta sit wi' a lady," Falcon might have overheard. "ya did'n tell me she were royalty." He would have turned and left if Martin had not applied his somewhat uncanny personality.
"Mr. Broady, my family has served yours since your grandfather took my ancestor in, some two hundred years ago," the sour-faced man had the stern tone of a schoolmaster, and could apply it most effectively. "Would you think I would lead you into trouble. You wound me."
The other man in denim held out his hands, his expression chastened. "No, no, Mart. Ya know better'n tha'. Trusts ya wi' me life...just," he glanced over the suited-man's shoulder, at Kitiara. "She's a Royal, if she's anythin'. I should be in tails, man!"
"Nonsense, your butler knows these things." With that, Martin carried the man, Steve, in his wake to the table.
Quickly, trying to be unseen, Steve removed a red and black checkered handkerchief from a pocket and wiped his brow, then his head. The movement was habitual, done with a practiced air, and the cloth disappeared back into the pocket, only one corner projecting. Both gloves came off, to be stuffed in an oversized back pocket.
"Miss Kitiara, may I present Mr. James Broady, recently of the Pennsylvania Railroad," at this, Broady's eyes passed a cloud, and he looked somewhat embarrased. "Mr. Broady, please, Miss Falcon Kitiara, of more Northen Lands." He cocked an eyebrow at the woman.
"It's Steve, mah lady," he bent at the waist, unsure how to greet this woman. In his day, woman that wore capes and had finery like this were all royalty, even the railroad Dames would not have been able to afford this. "Engineer and Trainsmaster, at yer service."
((OOC: If Falcon holds out her hand to shake, he will instinctively kiss the back of it. And, if you think her hands are calloused, try a man who until a few weeks ago spent his days handling the less than OSHA approved controls of a 120 ton steam locomotive, boiler doors and hard iron handles. If Falcon asks, oh please, he will tell his story, at least as much as he remembers. His touch is hot, like steam heat or a warm radiator. His accent is bad Irish, sorry.
Nice work on describing Falcon, very nice.))
As the doors swung open, a large, shadowy figure walked into the resteraunt. At first glance, most people mistook him for a villain. He stood almost seven feet tall, had long white hair, and black skin. Not brown, black as midnight. He had a pointed tail, horns jutting from the side of his head, and white tattoos that ran up his torso and down his arms.
Greetings human, I seek food, drink, and companions to swap tales with.
Gobbledygook could tell that he had possibly frightened this young girl, but the man behind her seemed unphased.
"Where would you like to be seated sir, at a table, or the bar?"
English is he, seems pompous enough. The bar sounds like a good place to start. Although maybe I should change, I forget what my natural form does to normal people.
With that there was a puff of smoke, and the demon seemed to have been replaced with a normal looking man in his mid 20s, wearing a pair of baggy jeans, a dark blue shirt, and a hat. His eyes still had a slight shine to them, but they were now blue.
That better Jeeves?
Before he could answer, he walked off towards the bar.
"Is that Stevie Ray Vaughnn I hear? Great, I love the classics"
Most people thought Gobb was arrogant, that he thought he was better than others, they were right.
Before approaching the bar tender and ordering his drink, he went to the Jukebox, dropped some money in, and picked some new songs.
Sevendust started playing, next he had chosen Metallica, Fade to Black of course, followed by Nirvana and Guns and Roses.
Stepping up to the bar, he pulled out a special I.D. that had been issued to him because of his age.
"Here ya go hon, born November 22, 1502. Now, how bout starting me off with a little Captain Morgan Parrot Bay and Dr. Pepper, please?"
((OOC: Gobbledygook is slightly concieted, is a regen scrapper, and loves to drink and eat. He's actually a very nice guy if you can get past his rough exterior.))
Willpower has more passive regen than Regen does. Who thought that was a good idea?
Can we get a fix for Energy Melee instead of more new sets?
Acknowledging the bartender with a wink, Rock-hopper looked quickly at the selection of beers available then ordered.
"Ah, G'day, luv. Lessee... You got Foster's? Give us a pitcher 'o that. Otherwise, just surprise me. Imported preferably. You yanks got a lot of things right, but beer ain't one of 'em."
He waved his two companions off to set up the pool table and took a seat as Narshawn prepared the beer. He pointed at the woman and continued,
"An' no cheatin' either!"
He faced Narshawn, mumbling a few good-natured curses, then said to the bartender, smiling under his mask,
"Word of advice to you. Don't trust the French... They'll try an' get you every time."
((OOC: Rock-hopper is loud and a bit obnoxious, but he doesn't mean insult in anything he says. Especially about the French. It's all good-natured humour.))
My story arcs: #2370- Noah Reborn, #18672- The Clockwork War, #31490- Easy Money
Sartre once said, "Hell is other people." What does that make an MMO?