Rochester Inn

[Mr.Fabulous]

Katarn Dragonbourne heaved in one deep breath of air, held it on for as long as he could, and then let it all out in one, slow motion of his chest.

By the time the bartender got back with the big tray of Black Grog Katarn was already appraising one of his pistols closely.

"Ah... The ATT-85..." Said the bartender in a low growl, "... A rare pistol that was decommissioned from the weapons factory in Alster Shipyard in '75... And this is one of the rarer models since it's got a slot for a disposable scope, as far as I can tell..."


[color=#99FFFF]"Ye still have a way with yer weapons, eh, Winston?" The old veteran grinned back at the bartender, "Ye should instead hold a weapons' dealership rather than run this sorry place... At least yer guaranteed te be a winner, eh? Hahahahhhh..." Katarn takes one of the mugs of thick, frothing alchohol and starts downing it.

The bartender slams his right hand on the table so hard one of the tankards spills on Katarn's side, "... Don't... you... dare criticize my inn... I don't care if you were the offspring of Satan or even a shard of his crap. I'll get the rest of the Junkers to ship your sorry ass in a box outta here if you make another comment like that..."

Katarn looks at the wasted grog spilling all over the floor, "... Awww... My apologies, Winston... If ye really loved yer inn, then why not place an ad on the neural net and attract some yonder customers te keep it busy, eh?"

"That's because it's a JUNKER base, Katarn.. You know very well I can't just place a signboard that says where this base is... It'd have my sorry ass filled with Dreadnoughts if ever the Liberty Navy found that out..."

"Ah... t'is a shame, Winston... Would've been... fun if ye did, HAHAHAHA!!!"
Katarn takes another mug of Black Grog from the platter.

The bartender then looks at the old veteran straight in the eyes with a piercing stare, "Why are you here, Katarn...?"

Katarn finished his grog soon afterwards, and said, "What? Can't an ol' man talk with his ol' friends? Ye used te be this fine, strappin young lad since I last saw ye! Where be the ol' Winston I remember, eh?

"Oh yes! On a side-note, where be this strappin young lassy ye used te make luv with? Darla, wasn't it? She used te be always by yer side wherever ye went, lad! Where might she be this time, HAHAHA!!!"

The bartender suddenly looked away, his voice receding to a whisper, both his fists clenching from remembering that fateful memory,

"... She's dead, Katarn... Caught in an ion storm when she was gathering junk... last time I saw her... she... she..." He then punches the wall so hard it shudders the wine cabinet stuck beside it... All the while, tears came streaming down his eyes.

The old veteran's grin faded to a gentle smile upon hearing the sad news, "... Oh... That be a shame, laddy... Ma condolences te the lassy, then..."



As the bartender continued to slowly sob, a robotic hand rested on his left shoulder. The bartender looked back to find Katarn offering a Black Grog with his right hand.

When the bartender reluctantly took the grog and drowned it bitterly, Katarn looked back at the other Junkers who were eyeing the talk between them, "Gentlemen!... Ladies... I PROPOSE A TOAST... to this here young laddy's loss of his fine woman, Darla... May her soul have the rest it deserves!"

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