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[Blair]

Skippy's Fern Bar
Solaris VII, Federated Commonwealth
November 1, 3048
0914 Hours

A ceiling fan spins, not quite fast enough to disturb the fine layer of dust accumulated on its blades, as dingy light spills into the empty bar from the streets. Two rows of freshly cleaned glass mugs line the countertop, and a damp, dirty rag hangs on the edge of the sink. A heavy sigh escapes the lips of the bar's proprietor, Ian Blair.

Blair grabs a lonely broom from the corner, and idly pushes it in wide arcs across the dusty hardwood floor. His salt-and-pepper hair is cropped short and neat, a contrast to the deep lines of his face, and dingy clothes and surroundings Blair inhabits. Satisfied that he's made enough of an effort to appease himself that he tried to clean the floor, he returns to the bar, thoughtlessly scratching a sudden itch dancing lightly around the back of his right hand.

The double doors of the bar suddenly swing broadly open, and a short, heavy-set cannonball of a man bounds into the room, wholly disrupting the stoic calm of the bar. Blair tries his best to supress a smile creeping into the corner of his lips.

"Blair! Ye old barfly! How does the day greet ya?" The jovial bounder looks up at Blair with sharp, gleaming green eyes; fiery, temperamental red hair falls down below his shoulders, and a wide, hearty grin fills his face.

"It greets me well, MacDunn. It greets me well." Blair absent-mindedly continues to scratch his hand, the itch not subsiding as quickly as he'd hoped. "What can I get for you?"

"A PPC, my lad! I've got a busy day, and I'll need strong fuel 'ta get the ol' fusion core runnin'!" MacDunn slammed a few C-Bills onto the counter-top, but Blair waves them away.

"First drink of the day is free, you know that."

"Ach, I should! I've only been taken advantage of that promotion for what, four years now?" A raucous laugh tramples out of MacDunn's mouth as he picked up most of the C-Bills from the counter, leaving a modest, but sincere tip on the counter for Blair.

Blair places a tall, slender glass in front of MacDunn, and pours a bright, swirling blue liquid into it. MacDunn raises the glass in a silent toast, and takes a long, hearty gulp, small trails of the liquor dripping down into a full, but well-kempt beard. With a satisfied sigh, MacDunn plops the drink back down onto the bar, a muted clink chiming through the otherwise empty room. "So, why is't ye never renamed this place? I mean, you're not Skippy. Why not call it 'Blair's'?"

Blair stops for a moment and appears to ponder, as if the idea had never actually occurred to him. He scratches his hand for a moment, mulling it over, when he suddenly feels something cold and rubbery between his fingers. He looked down to see a small piece of the rubber coating of his prosthetic right hand had been peeled off by his idle scratching.

Darn it! Blair thought. Twenty five years and it still catches me off guard.

Looking up, Blair sees that MacDunn had not ignored him during his idle musings, and was clearly still awaiting an answer. "I guess..." Blair trails off for a moment, as the thought coalesces in his mind. "I guess that somewhere, there still may be a few folks from the old days, and maybe someday they'll come back. And if they ever do, I want them to know we're still open for business."

MacDunn grins widely, clearly pleased with the answer. Swallowing the rest of his drink in one swift motion, MacDunn pulls himself up from his barstool, and makes his way back out of the bar.

As Blair watches him leave, he can't help but wonder if he might soon be seeing more memories walk through that door.

Edited by Blair, 07 November 2011 - 02:34 PM.

[metro]

Greetings, I am awaiting Blackwidow's arrival.

Cognac and a cigar please.

[Blair]

Blair slides a glass of cognac to the newcomer, and reaches under the counter, pulling out a long, cherry colored, wooden box. Opening it, the air is filled with a strong and leathery scent. Blair pulls out a dark, heavy cigar covered with thick veins, and smelling faintly of pepper. He places it next to the patron, but as the man goes to light it, Blair holds up his had to stop him.

"You can hold it, smell it, and chew it all you like; but no smoking in here." Blair gestures over to one of the numerous leafy plants hanging long the bar and its walls. "It's bad for the ferns."

[HanaYuriko]

The end of the last Succession war. After the transformation of the Rasalhague Military District into the Free Rasalhague Republic and the tenuous battles fought against the Ronin in 3034. The rise of Gunji-no-Kenrei Theodore Kurita to House Lord and the death of Takashi. The war to fight off the unlawful invasion by the Steiner-Davion alliance in 3039...

So many battles. So many lives lost. The bitter hatred of past rivals both foreign and domestic fades into a blurred memory. From a fresh-faced MechWarrior aspirant to a unit commander with the 8th Rasalhague Regulars, to Shihan in the Sun Zhang Military Academy. Once a young girl with dreams of glory and ambition, now a mature woman who finds ever more graying hairs and deeper lines etched into her face. Shunning the prestige and power of the political limelight for the cool shade of a simpler life, there was always one place where the microcosm of the greater Human Sphere played out. One place where Yuriko could disappear and still feel at home. Solaris VII.

Having arrived in the international zone, the city itself looked both familiar and foreign. New tenementbuildings interspersed with the old run-down shambles of downtrodden neighborhoods. The Arenas - while a constant feature of Solaris City - have had their share of remodeling. Always competing. Always trying to bring in the crowds. Hyping wannabe MechJocks with underhanded tactics and backroom deals. And while Yuriko likened the Waterfront district near Ishiyama Arena her second home, there was always one place in the International Sector that drew the veteran soldier and brash newbie alike.

Skippy's Fern Bar.

Seeing the faded paint and the dimmed, flickering florescent light above the entrance had taken her back so many years. As if time had stood still for this place. Once a thriving den of raucous behavior, multitude of bar fights, pacts made and broken, and unending friendships forged from fire and booze. Even the odd scorch mark from a laser pistol still marred the exterior. Stepping through the time worn and graffiti covered doors, the scent of a dusty tavern permeated the air. As if an old tomb had recently been disturbed or the vault of a Star League fortress recently uncovered. Past memories long buried unearthed for the new generation to behold.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkened room, Yuriko was pleasantly surprised to see that the bar was in fact still in operation. It's multitude of dark and shady corner booths sat idly by, waiting for new customers to warm their cracked leather seats. Walking with her general stoic demeanor and emotionless face, she could do little to hide the amused gleam in her eyes as she approached the ancient marble and granite bar. Running her fingers along the ferrosteel fittings and brass rail, she takes a seat at one end facing the door. Unholstering a Nambu pistol, she carefully sets it down and slides it towards Blair.

"I'm surprised that this business is still in operation, much less the building itself remaining intact," Yuriko's eyes smile betraying her calm exterior. "If you still have it, I would prefer a Dragon's Tear. Those PPCs you served years ago had the ability to dissolve ferros-fiber armor plates.

[Andrew Osis]

Andrew enters the bar, turning off his com device, he takes a seat and orders a mug of Ale for himself and a round for those sitting at the bar. It had been years since he had been inside these walls. He raised his glass in the air and exclaimed " To the memories of old and to new begginings!". A wave of "cheers!" swept the bar area as he took a long pull from his mug. He thought to himself " it's good to be back!".

**Good to see you Hana, been awhile since the IS3025 fourm days.

[mckenzie bruce]

Clad in a neatly pressed AFFC Leftenant's uniform, her flame-red hair pulled back into a braid, the young woman whom her class mates at Coventry called "Kennie" walks through the double doors and confidently strides to the bar, slow enough to look around the place

::If you ever end up on Solaris, you have to check out Skippy's:: She thinks to herself, remembering her mother's words to her as she left on furlough. ::They never had a Skye Ale, but the PPC's will knock you clean on yer ****.::

She takes a seat near the wizened Yuriko, and with a bit of a grin, says. "I'll have a Skye Ale, man."

Edited by mckenzie bruce, 01 November 2011 - 01:51 PM.

[Blair]

The din in the bar swirled like beer filling a glass, as more and more faces, old and new, made their way in. Corner booths were being filled quickly, but many remained for those yet to arrive. Blair afforded himself a moment to take in the scene between filling orders, warmed at the prospect of new company, new conversations, and new--

---

"CONTACT!" The headset nearly peaked in Blair's neurohelmet as the voice screamed in warning. Scanning the field in front of him, Blair could see a full company of 'Mechs advancing on his position. With the detached calm of a trained 'MechWarrior, Blair unleashed a hail of lasers and missiles upon the intruders, shivering as a rush of coolant spilled through tubes connected to his cooling vest, desperately trying to combat the heat quickly permeating the cockpit of his Archer.

Blinking away sweat, Blair began to slowly build up speed in his heavy 'Mech, taking it from a slow walk into a full gallop, eagerly diving into the fray. "All Swordsmen, this is Tip of the Blade" Blair's voice already felt hoarse, "Weapons free. Let's give these ******** what for!"

---

Blair was snapped back to the present by a raucous laugh and applause coming from a corner booth. Looking up to see a table full of empty glasses, and a very green-faced apprentice mechanic, he knew he'd need to bring another round soon. And probably a mop.

[metro]

I sure have missed this place. Great to be back.

But we need a humidor and smokin room, ya know for us old schoolers with bad habits! =)

[Kyll Long]

The doors open slowly and you see two tall individuals come halfway into the bar. They slowly swing their heads from side to side searching for any visible and immediate threats.

A voice is heard from outside "Get outta my way ya goons I haven't been an active target for years. Go bother some Davion pretty boy!"

With that you see a medium sized, middle aged man walk in waving the two security men outside. "Well heck as many times as this place has been rebuilt I'm suprised the ferns aint wilted.

"Howdy all the good the bad and the ugly (thats you Brewer)."

"Now pass me the Vodka"

and with that he sets down at the bar back to the door.


Kyll Long
Sr. Col. (ret)
*LO* Maskirovka
Liao
"Honor is Life"

[Paladin Brewer]

The doors open slowly to allow another to enter, and trying to do so unnoticed. He is wearing a jump suit, but with no House markings. Though he is wearing a katana and wakizashi at his side. Unfortunately before getting more than a couple feet, he is greeted by one of the servers. Obviously someone new. He nods toward the patron's waist, speaking softly "Excuse me sir, but weapons are not allowed in here." He turns his head slowly to give her a wry grin, his left hand reflexively sliding down to the grip of his katana. "Neither is bloodshed, and now you've wisely reminded me that I am not one to follow the rules. Ponder that while you find me a table. Alone."

"Very good sir, follow me." He follows the server, keeping his hood down. Looking around he notices several familiar faces. He notices Hana sitting with some redheaded girl. Metro is easy to notice, running around talking to anyone. He hears his name and turns to see Kyll Long, who does not notice him and appears to be talking to himself, as usual. He finally arrives at his table, the waiter being wise enough to give him a secluded table in the corner.

"Get me a drink, anything with a kick. And a cigar." The waiter moves off to fulfill the order, and he sits, waiting and looking around. His hands slide into his pockets, fingers running over two stitched decals. He pulls them both out and lays them on the table, eying them both. One is the insignia of House Kurita, obviously old and dusty, torn. This one has seen much. The other is newer, and unused. The emblem of the Free Rasalhague Republic, sent to him by an old friend. He sat pondering the two decals, wondering where his loyalties lie, disturbed only by the waiter returning with a cup of warm sake and his cigar. He grins at the sake, wondering if the bartender is trying to make his decision for him.

[HanaYuriko]

Yuriko gently cups the flared glass with both hands as she watches a number of faces both familiar and unknown enter the bar. The scent of the mixed cocktail's vapor overflowing the rim of the glass like some bad science-fiction drink seen in so many holovids. As the tables fill and the crowd grows, she thinks to herself, Has it always been this way and I've been gone for so long?

That is until a young woman with flaming red hair entered dressed in a freshly tailored AFFC uniform. The junior officer rank, Steiner Fist, and a lack of any of the numerous awards usually seen on the chest of the common Social General told her a great deal about the individual in question. Keeping her expression as still as she was accustomed, only her eyes followed the young MechWarrior as she seemed to make a bee line right towards her, then seat herself on the bar stool next to hers.

"I'll have a Skye Ale, man."

That says a lot. Yuriko thought to herself. Yuki fought against the 4th Skye Rangers during the last Succession War. "Lutnant Bruce..." she addressed 'Kenny' with the old rank from the former LAAF. "That name seems so familiar to me. Not personally, but through old war stories. A tale of a powerful firebrand who piloted a unique battlemech."

As she continued to watch the crowd grow, the former SZMA teacher spies a few more familiar faces. Including one mechjock with his daisho set of swords on his hip. Giving him a slight nod as their gaze met for a brief moment, Yuriko watches Paladin being led to one of the booths. Turning her attention back to her drink, she looks up at the monitors half-paying attention to the match being broadcast. A pair of modified industrialmechs were apparently being torn apart by brightly painted Hatchetman.

Edited by HanaYuriko, 02 November 2011 - 02:16 PM.

[mckenzie bruce]

Kennie takes a seat and turns to the older woman.

"Lutenant Bruce was my Ma'am, not as I saw much of her growing up, with her off fightin' the 4th." She says, shrugging.

Turning her head towards the monitors. "Aggromechs against an HCT? not exactly a fair fight."

[Qin]

*The door swings open, the sounds of the streets enter the bar. Qin steps trough the door. He lazily scans the bar for a moment*
*He quietly shuts the door, and walks toward the bar, signals the bartender to send his bottle and a glass over to his booth*
*On the way over to his booth he nods and waves at some of the visitors*

*As he approached the booth he unhooks his sword and places it in the corner of the booth, and slides onto the bench*

*After a minute or so a waiter delivers his bottle and a glass. He fills the glass, takes it and raises it*

To absent friends, and those we have not yet met! *empties the glass*

[mckenzie bruce]

Kennie finally gets a tall glass of something that certainly isn't a -proper- Skye Ale and looks over at Qin from her perch at the bar, listening to his toast, thinking ::He's making a toast, is he? I'd be nae true Scot if'n I didn't give me own."

Waiting for the man to finish his toast, she raises her own tankard, nodding at the man as she does.

"Here's to fire. Not the fast and furious kind that burns down shacks and shanties. But the slow, seductive kind that
takes down pants and panties." She says with a bit of a grin on her face,

[Jarek Kalen]

*A young man dressed in a red jacket with a Sword&Sunburst symbol walks in, surveying the scene.* "Hmph. Wonderful, a vast array of both potential friends and enemies." he mutters, walking over to an empty table. His jacket has the tag: Jarek "J.K." Kalen on it, and a symbol for the Albion Military Academy beside the old FedSuns insignia.

Edited by Jarek Kalen, 05 November 2011 - 04:39 PM.

[Kyll Long]

Kyll sits slowly scanning the bar and seems to realise he hasn't seen someone recently, "Hey where'd Blair go? Someone realise he still ain't old enough to drink let alone serve liquor and kick him out?"

With that he goes back to updating entries on his datapad and slowly drinking his vodka.

[chewie]

Its late when the door opens, admitting a tall solemn cloaked figure.

The rain hammers on as he steps in and closes the door behind him.

Glancing round the room, he heads for the bar and sits on the nearest free stool.

Without removing his cloak he pulls out a small wad of C-bills, leafing though until he has a small pile of used 1 and 5 denomination D-bills

"Timbiqui dark please, and 1 for the next fella through the door"

As the waiter places the bottle in front of him, he lets his cloak drop to the floor, revealing the depleted remains of a house issue cooling vest and tan leggings.

"Cheers"

Taking a swig he sits back to watch the Tri-Vee, absently pulling nuts from the bowl of snacks as he catches the latest round of the current championship matches.

[Kyll Long]

chewie, on 06 November 2011 - 02:47 PM, said:

Its late when the door opens, admitting a tall solemn cloaked figure.

The rain hammers on as he steps in and closes the door behind him.

Glancing round the room, he heads for the bar and sits on the nearest free stool.

Without removing his cloak he pulls out a small wad of C-bills, leafing though until he has a small pile of used 1 and 5 denomination D-bills

"Timbiqui dark please, and 1 for the next fella through the door"

As the waiter places the bottle in front of him, he lets his cloak drop to the floor, revealing the depleted remains of a house issue cooling vest and tan leggings.

"Cheers"

Taking a swig he sits back to watch the Tri-Vee, absently pulling nuts from the bowl of snacks as he catches the latest round of the current championship matches.

Kyll stands up walks outside closing the door behind him. Seconds later the door reopens and Kyll walks back in. "I believe I'll have that drink. Oh and in this case DON'T pour it on Chewie."

Once again Kyll sets down at his table and goes back to updating his notes.

Edited by Kyll Long, 06 November 2011 - 03:00 PM.

[Colddawg]

I was wondering when the bar would open!

[Argatson Krieghammer]

Oy, Comrade Barkeep! Give me your strongest vodka, I need to forget some things quick