Character Cantina

We once again present you…the Character Development Thread: Causal Edition.

See Character Development Thread for special rules.

Now, join us in the Cosmic Cantina, the inn of the multiverse. It is where poor souls from all corners of the multiverse can drink their sorrows away, and pay off their tab with only a story…

All was still in the Cosmic Cantina.

The seats at the round, wooden tables were tucked in, aligned perfectly with the walls. The wall lights were off, leaving the room in perpetual darkness. The varnished floor had not one crumb or stain, smooth as the face of a newly crafted sword. Framed canvases hanged on the smooth brown walls, untouched by paint or pastels. Nobody was at the bar, and the bottles behind it were closed.

The stillness was broken by the presence of the propitiator.

Cathy glided out of one of the doors and stood in front of the bar. She raised her chin and adjusted one of her two brown braids. In spite of her large girth, she was a force of nature. Her large blue eyes gave off a charismatic appearance. Her face had no flabs of fat, except for her rosy cheeks and her prominent dimples. Her dress was blue, with a white apron tied at the waist. She was the embodiment of female propitiators everywhere—or anywhere.

Cathy took a deep breath, and said in an opera-like voice. “Oh, Brent…!”

Brent appeared from the top of the stairs, leaning on the railing. Dark covered his face. “What is it?” he said with a wary voice.

“It’s time for you to be the barkeep, of course!” Cathy waved him down. “It’s almost opening time.”

Brent walked down, slumping. “Let me guess, I’m the last one again?”

Carl piped up from the kitchen. “I’m ready!”

Stephanie’s voice rang from the speaker attached to the wall. “I am in the basement right now.”

Brent cocked his head a little to the right. “I thought so.”

“Ah, being a grumpy bear again?” Cathy stood at the bottom of the stairs and put her arm over his shoulder. “You have to work.”

“You took away our day-off.”

Cathy said with a quieter voice. “Oh, I’m sorry about that, but the gods were a little more grumpy than usual and we had to get away! And of course, we have a schedule to attend to.”

Brent took his position behind the bar, grumbling quietly.

Cathy kept her bright smile and walked towards the front doors. A variety of locks kept the double door shut.

“Now.” She said. “Is everyone ready?”

“Yes.” Brent, Carl, and Stephanie said.

“Good!” She tapped a wooden panel next to the door. The panel slid into the wall, revealing a touchable screen. She leaned closer to read it. “Strange. I never had been in this multi-verse before. Oh, well.” She pressed a few buttons on the screen. “I wanted a change of scenery. Now, brace yourselves.”

The Cosmic Cantina then rumbled. Everything stayed in place despite of the force. The only other sign of the moment was the vibration of the drinks, trapped within still bottles. A few seconds later, everything was still.

The locks on the door unlatched. Cathy walked back, wiping her hands.

“Be prepared.” She said. “Our first guest will be coming just about…now!”

The door swung open.

edited 4th Jul '11 11:22:11 AM by chihuahua0

William strides inside and sits down at the bar. taking a little time to clean his glasses and push a few locks of light brown hair from his face. "A bottle of whiskey, if ya don't mind. A whole bottle."

It's a nice place they've got here, no matter that he doesn't know where the hell he is. He's thankful for the lack of vomiting drunks and obnoxious partygoers, but they'll be here soon enough, so he'd better be quick. The only problem is that if it's good whiskey, he'll want to take his time. Not that whiskey is the tastiest stuff in the world. William doesn't know how to describe it, that feeling when a firey and calming liquid hits his stomach.

He sighs and rests his head in his arms. At least nearly every pocket of his long brown coat is full of rose petals. That's a great comfort already.

edited 4th Jul '11 11:43:37 AM by snowfoxofdeath

A hooded man walked through the door, the visible lower half of his face an expression of confusion. Drew stopped just past the doorframe, slowly turning around and taking in his surroundings. He jerked each time that his feet touched the ground, the familiar yet still alien feeling he had lived with for a year now working like a charm. He had no clue as to how he was here, but he could worry about that later. Slowly putting one hand into the pocket of his hoodie, Drew felt at the area around his ribcage. When he felt the familiar shape of a guns handle, he sighed quietly in relief. He didn't know where he was, but he had his guns. This is a start, he thought as his attention turned towards the woman beside her, whom he had not acknowledged until now.

"Where..." He began, his voice barely a whisper. "Where am i?"

The place certainly didn't carry any air of hostility, and his earlier jerking didn't show anything noteably threatening, although he doubted it would if it was some trap, but when you show up somewhere and you have no idea how you got there, asking where you were was the best place to start. He was certainly taking this better than he had thought he would when he showed up, although how welcoming this place seemed despite the circumstances of arriving helped that quite a bit.

edited 4th Jul '11 11:41:09 AM by InfiniteParagon

In arrives a rather grumpy, disheveled woman, clearly in her prime, though not exactly young. Her bronze hair is tied in a knot at the back of her head that has started to come loose, and a shirt of mail clinks over her dirty linen gown.

She throws a round shield and long, heavy sheathed sword onto the bar and points to the beer-kegs unceremoniously.

edited 4th Jul '11 11:43:21 AM by annebeeche

Brent looked at the man as he went straight to the bar without a glance. The first newbie of the day was the one who would suffer the most shock. Did he even know that he just wandered into a bar outside his universe?

Brent decided to wait until a more unusual guest comes in. "One whisky coming up."

As he search the shelves for a mild whisky, Cathy walked up to the guest.

"Hello there!" Cathy said, curtsying, "Welcome to the Cantina. May I inquire how to got here?"

Two more people entered through the door. The hooded person looked around in confusion while the Viking went straight towards the bar. It was going to be a busy day.

"Hello, welcome to the Cantina? How may I help you?"

edited 4th Jul '11 11:49:51 AM by chihuahua0

"I walked," William says, and accepts the whiskey. It's an unfamiliar brand, so he's slightly wary as uses magic to open it. A small sip. Not the best he's had— nothing comes close to the whiskey of his hometown— but certainly satisfying. "Sir, this is some good whiskey, but are you sure you haven't got anything stronger?"

"Of course we do." Brent said. "But we usually only give the stronger stuff to people who only want a single shot. But if you like..."

He turned his back and grumbled as he got a whisky of a higher grade. Maybe some Zarian whisky?

edited 4th Jul '11 11:56:55 AM by chihuahua0

Borghild snarls something impatiently in Danish [Proto-Germanic, not modern Danish] her native tongue.

Then she remembers the copper translation device she recently looted and plugs it into her ear, switching the device onto SEND.

"Hey," she says, "I thought I asked for a drink?"

She fished in her purse and slapped a few gold coins onto that counter/

edited 4th Jul '11 12:01:37 PM by annebeeche

"It'd be too much to hope you have some Andelin whiskey, wouldn't it? At the risk of pestering, I'd like to know if you serve food here."

A few other people have come inside. A fierce warrior woman— he'd better tread lightly around her. And the bewildered hooded figure— not sure what to make of that. William gulps down the rest of the whiskey.

So Drew was in a place called 'the Cantina.' Knowing the establishments name certainly helped ease his worry, and with this in mind he walked over to the bar as casually as he could for now, sitting down a ways away from the other two people already there.

"Whiskey as well," he told the barkeep, raising his voice from what he was used to using so that he would hear him. He was reminded of how southern his voice still sounded, which was something he wished would go away faster, as it only brought up memories he relived too many times already.

His attention was drawn to the woman in armor, if only for a moment. "Odd place," he muttered under his breath. Although this was hypocritical on his part, he wasn't exactly normal himself.

edited 4th Jul '11 11:58:41 AM by InfiniteParagon

He heard the woman with the shield point at the beer. A Norse type already? People like her always get rowdy.

"I'm sorry, miss." He found it strange that she had a translator. Was she from an anarchaism world?

He poured the whisky as fast as possible and got to filling the beer in a wooden cup. All the ordering was getting on his nerves.

"I think might have one of those." He said.

He reached his hand behind all the bottles and activated the Drink Recaller, a device that can recreate any drink that a person had.

"We do have food." Cathy said, nodding her head. "Would you like to eat?" She gestured towards the tables.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:02:23 PM by chihuahua0

Borghild accepts the cup and downs it immediately. She pushes it back to the barkeep. This is why we drink from horns, people.

As she waits for her next drink, she set her translator back to RECEIVE and listened to the other customers about her. It's so refreshing to have one of these things again.

What a load of fuckin' weirdos, she thinks. Better than those heathen Danes from the future though. More diversity.

She rolls her eyes at the hooded individual, standing and staring in one place like he was mentally impaired.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:03:48 PM by annebeeche

Much better, but William doesn't get drunk easily. That's not really a bad thing, since this seems to be an interesting place. Maybe some more queer folks will come in, and he'll watch them do their queer-folk things.

There's no music in here— no piano player in a dark corner, no singing drunkards. William closes his eyes. The melody of the symphony Professor Lane is obssessed with at the moment is still running through his head. Fuck.

Drew downed his whiskey as quickly as he could, placing the glass back on the bar even quicker, but keeping silent for the most part. The alchohol certainly helped him, but that wasn't his concern at the moment, keeping from explaining why the glass was freezing cold when somebody touched it was. He'd have to hold off on a second shot for now, let the glass go back to room temperature while he could string together a coherent thought.

He was hardly drunk, really, but he didn't want to become drunk or anything similar right now. It was about the only thing he could do, as he was hesitant at striking up a conversation with anyone or walking away to some secluded corner, which he decided he might do anyway.

For now, though, an empty glass was keeping him at this bar, with people he did not know, in a place he did not know how he arrived in. Being trapped at this bar made him wish Lucas was here handling the drinks, not the man there now. He had no problem with him, but he would have liked to see a familiar face.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:24:18 PM by InfiniteParagon

Borghild gets bored of listening to people (no one had anything interesting to say) and switches the translator back and forth between SEND and RECEIVE idly, amusing herself with the sudden change in language from Gibberish to Danish, and back. You're not actually supposed to do that because it's not healthy for the translator, but she doesn't really care.

She stares at the young man sitting down the bar in that direction and entertains some perverse thoughts.

Cathy glanced at the Viking girl with the translator as she flipped it on and off. Translators sometimes clashed in the Cantina, causing somewhat undesirable effects, so something must be done.

"Hello there." She walked up to her and extended out her hand. Her voice transcended the translator. "Would you please turn off your translator and listen into their talking? The Cantina should translate for you."

Borghild stares at the dumpy woman before her, then folds her translator and reclips it onto her belt.

She says, "The fuck's a cantina?"

"Oh, it's another word or a bar, or a tavern. The Cosmic Cantina is more of an inn, but I like how the word sounds. not a lot of people use the rooms upstairs anywhere."

She glanced at the door. It stayed completely shut, although anyone go decides to leave would find it quite easy to go through. When was the next costumer going to come from the door?

Brent kept refilling the drinks, his hand movements fluid from days of working. He grimaced.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:46:01 PM by chihuahua0

Why the flying fuck is that woman staring at me?

William watches her for a moment. It can't be anything important, so he returns to the whiskey, but soon finds himself staring at the strange device in her ear. A translator, according to the woman in the blue dress and apron. What's her native language, then? Now that William thinks about it, he realizes that she looks like a Germanic warrior, like the illustrations in his history book. No, not necessarily Germanic. Her outfit could belong to any fighter.

"The fuck's a cantina?"

Interesting. Very interesting.

Then he catches "Cosmic Cantina".

That's just fucking weird.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:45:02 PM by snowfoxofdeath

"Actually, a room upstairs would be nice. I've had a very busy day, and more busy days ahead of me. As a matter of fact, I have literally all the time in the cosmos, and no reason to rush."

Borghild stretches in her seat.

"What's that little prince over there staring about?"

edited 4th Jul '11 12:48:35 PM by annebeeche

William spews whiskey. Prince? Does he look that girly?

"Ma'am, what country are you from? I'd really like to know."

Don't cause trouble. She's got a sword, and he doesn't want to have to take out his own.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:53:27 PM by snowfoxofdeath

So its not a Cantina, its a Cosmic Cantina?, Drew thought with some confusion returning. How is that even possible? Then again...

Before his thought can continue, Drew presses it out of his mind. When he heard that this was also an inn, he found something to distract himself with. He could leave at any time, he presumed, looking at the door, but this also presented a sanctuary. The woman in armor, at the very least, couldn't be from anywhere in his time, and her comment about having time confirmed that, somewhat. The other person here was a different story, but knowing what he could figure out was enough.

In the meantime, he kept the two in the corner of his eye, as there was a discussion going on between them he was curious enough to listen in to. He put on a thoughtful look and rested his head on the palm of his hand, slowly sipping the refilled drink in front of him.

edited 4th Jul '11 12:55:43 PM by InfiniteParagon

Brent looked at the whisky that the guest spewed on the counter. A heat panel evaporated the liquid while he was looking away. It was a good thing Cathy had that installed. Washcloths were too bothersome.

They better not have a fight. he thought. He reached his hand behind the counter to make sure his zapped was there.

He saw Cathy wandering off. She pulled a broom out of nowhere and started to sweep the footprints off the floor.

"Quiet down, bonny boy, not need to get all huffy. I swear, you're the spitting image of my king."

Borghild stands up and adjusts her belt.

"I'm from Asgarðr, if you must know. Great place, you should visit sometime. Oh wait—heathen. Christ-worshipper, right?"

edited 4th Jul '11 1:00:49 PM by annebeeche

"Christ? What's that? I might know Asgarðr if I paid more attention in geography class, but I don't."

The place has rooms, apparently. When and if he gets drunk enough, he'll certainly need a place to sleep it off and then repeat the process.

I look like a king? William wants to laugh.

edited 4th Jul '11 1:02:08 PM by snowfoxofdeath