162 replies to this topic

[Rugarou]

Ok this here is where us Browncoats and Independents meet ya hear? I be in 'da back making up some gumbo and jambalaya for yall. Not sure who's mindin' the bar 'dough.

[Ian MacLeary]

Well, I'd do it, laddie, but me hands are a bit greasy from tryin' ta fix up these old 'mechs... I doubt anyone'd want ta be droppin' their beer on account o' that.

((OOC: Dueling Accents FTW!))

[lonewolfsyndrome]

There will be a report if I start hearing banjo's.

[Sarah Dalrymple]

Did someone say banjoes?

[walkingraven]

I can mind the bar, so long as you only order only bottles or what's on tap. We have specials on Neptune Light, Neptune Dark, PPCs and something called a Blackhole Bomb.
Due to recent assassination attempts, flowery hats will be set aflame on sight. And possibly those bearing them.

[Rugarou]

Quote

Did someone say banjoes?

Banjos....Banjos?!?! What you be gettin' at wit' dat huh che'? Don't ya know it be all 'bout 'de bagpipes, accordions, and fiddles?

[Sarah Dalrymple]

Why yes, yes I do!

[Rugarou]

You che' be my new favorite person 'der yea. Free gumbo fer ya' fer sure.

[Sarah Dalrymple]

Why, thank you! I do love a good gumbo!

I'm just here doing my part for inter-mercenary relations! Feel free to hop over to the GDL bar and scare up some Dire Pauls for hunting!

[lonewolfsyndrome]

I'd be careful what your eating around these parts. The secret ingredient could be real meat, could be long pork and on occasion might be a razor blade. Yet the MRE's aren't much better so your taken your chances either way.

Glad to see the C.O. has recovered from the 'incident' with the Skjaldborg. Even if none of us remember what happened.

Edited by lonewolfsyndrome, 22 March 2012 - 07:05 PM.

[Nor Azman]

...Outreach is no place for mercs like us... Just look at Harlech's city proper and TempTown. The mercenary culture of this warrior's world is divided into class distinction, elitism, the 'have and have-nots' so to speak. If work brings us here, then work brings us here, but we shouldnt tarry long. We Browncoats sniff the air not kiss the dirt, eh. Best move on to Galatea or Solaris or even to Port Krin where its more honest and straight. ...Outreach is no place for mercs like us... *sniffs the air*

Azman, 23 march 3049

Edited by Nor Azman, 23 March 2012 - 01:22 AM.

[Sarah Dalrymple]

It beats the heck out of Galatea... or Persephone for that matter!

That is, unless you enjoy eating 'Good Dogs', lol!

[GentlemanCake]

Can't go near Ariel, may have left a bit of an impression on the law there.......

[walkingraven]

I may not have any marks for or against lawmen anywhere, even have a few lawman ... Friends of a sort.
But I'm not so fond of folk knowing my boot size before we've exchanged pleasantries at army's length.

Also, having a special on this green stuff we uncovered in an old transport. Don't know what it is though. Anyone here read ancient French?

[lonewolfsyndrome]

A lil' legitamacy goes a LONG way, but Outreach isn't the place for us. More likely to end up in a fist fight then land a contract.

[EmyLightsaber]

Reminds me of this:

[walkingraven]

My hovercraft is full of eels!!!

[Ian MacLeary]

walkingraven, on 25 March 2012 - 09:46 AM, said:

My hovercraft is full of eels!!!

Laddie... are ye feelin' alright? Ye didna drink coolant again thinkin' it was green beer?

[Belial]

Just stumbled in, looking for a new place to get a drink from. Neptune Dark sounds good and unique. I'll have a pint of that, please.

Browncoats? Can't say I've ever heard of ya. Well, there are always the holovids that bring ya up now and again, though the level of favor towards you guys is dependent on the current state of political affairs. Anyone wanna 'suade this wanderer one way or the other? I don't leave for Epsilon Indi for another two days. I got time, and... *pats wad of C-bills* money.

<<OOC: Geaux Tiger? LSU ftw! I graduate from there this semester!>>

[walkingraven]

Afternoon, Belial. Be cautious with your drink though, they call it Dark cause that's all ye see after it overtakes you.
We've called browncoats after our one piece of uniform, a long leather duster. As for that stack of C-bills, tuck them away. Everyone gets their first and last drink on the Commander.
The IMC is a place for the wanderers and nomads, those what can't stand the dusty soil or the smog darkened skies. We take to the deep, clean cold of the black between. We fight for the fella who pays our bills, buys our parts. But we fight to make these little planet and moons better for the folks that live there. Some of us fight for different things, every man has his own yarn to weave, but we all fight together.
So welcome to this old derelict dropship and on behalf of the men and women who fill her halls....
Next rounds on you! *Raises a glass* To Health, Fortune, And A Paying Job!!