Nelson's

[Darkard]

By the time McMillan had reached his office only the Prospect was left in the bar. Comforted by the fact that the chances of brawls breaking out had significantly decreaced, McMillan settled into his chair and broused over the files and communications he had neglected.
He half wished the Buccaneers would come back so he would have another excuse to put off doing the paperwork.

---

0-499 posts: Your posts will be completely and utterly ignored.
500-999 posts: People will read your posts, but will never care for the content.
1000-2000 posts: Your posts will be read, your points may be considered, if you're lucky.
2001+ posts and custom title: Your opinion matters.

<div align="right">QFT</div>

[AJBeast]

Andrews Frigate landed on Trafalgar's docks, filled with H-Fuel bound from Kusari.

"Blasted explosive pockets..."-he mumbled to himself.-"The darned thing got its paint all scratched!"

A group of engineers quickly gathered around the ship , assessing the damage to the ship. After a quick examination, one of them approached Andrew.

"Sir , we just took a look at your ship. It hasn't suffered major structural damage, it shouldn't take long to fix. Come back in an hour or two."

"Alright... Oh , and unload that fuel I got onboard. Compliments from the girls up in Kusari."

Andrew turned his back to the engineer and headed towards the corridors.

"Well , what should I do now ... Oh , I know , why not pay Nelson's a visit!"- he thought

Andrew slowly walked towards the bar , leaning towards the door and taking a peek inside. The bar seemed rather quiet, an unusual thing for such a busy space port. He walked inside and sat down at the counter.

"Hey there Nelson , serve me a cold one."- he said , taking some credit chips out of his pocket and placing them upon the counter.

Andrew looked around in the bar. McMillan was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh , and call your boss , would you?"

[Capt. Henry Morgan]

Everyone in Nelson's had been expecting this ever since word got around Trafalgar that the Lusty Wench had made port, so it came as absolutely no surprise to anyone when Captain Henry Morgan of the Bretonian Buccaneers strode into the bar, several members of the Wench's crew in tow. Nelson didn't particularly want them here, as they tended to be a little on the rowdy side, and always left a mess to clean up. They also tended to disturb the other patrons a little, but they didn't really break any of Trafalgar's rules in the process. That, and most of them tipped rather well.

Captain Morgan made a bee-line straight for the bar.

"Ahoy there, Nelson! I'm afraid we can't stay long today, but we couldn't stop at Trafalgar without samplin' some o' the house special! A round o' yer finest ale for me lads. Me, though, I want somethin' a little stronger. Give me some of that." Morgan pointed to a rather old, dusty bottle on the bottom shelf.

Nelson looked at him in disbelief. Morgan had just pointed to a bottle of Gundey VIII. It was only there because the bar's previous owner left it behind when he cleared out the rest of the stock. It was easily the vilest alcoholic beverage known to mankind. Even calling it a "beverage" was a bit of a stretch. About the only thing he had ever seen it used for was stripping carbon scoring off of ship parts found in the scrap field. Everyone who had ever ordered it (usually because they lost a bet) had nearly thrown up at the smell of it, and actually did throw up upon drinking it. Nelson said nothing of this to Captain Morgan, though he hoped the camera behind the bar was functioning, so he could enjoy this moment over and over again.

Morgan clearly saw the look of disbelief on Nelson's face turn to disgust as he opened the bottle and poured the drink. Morgan, then picked the shot glass, and downed the drink all in one shot. His face reddened a little, but otherwise, he didn't react at all. After that, he looked up at Nelson, and saw the look of disbelief back stronger than ever. Clearly, he'd never seen anyone keep the stuff down.

"Just charge me for the whole bottle, Nelson." Morgan then picked up the bottle and joined the rest of his crew, who were quickly finishing up this round, and demanding another.

Nelson sighed. This couldn't possibly be over quickly.

---

Natio Octavarium
Faction Information and Status • Recruitment
Faction Feedback • Internal Affairs

[Darkard]

Now that Nelson had dealt with the urgent matter of the Bucaneers, he had time to pass on Andrew's message. Moment laters McMillan turned up in the doorway.

For some reason McMillan was sporting a Laser Pistol. He never normaly carried one and the sight of the holser on his hip looked out of place to anyone that knew him well. What was even more out of place was the breifcase he carried. Again anyone that knew McMillan would know that office work was not somthing he ever took with him as he prefered to leave it till the very last moment.

McMillan quickly paced over to where Andrew was stood

"Andrew... What's the problem?"

---

0-499 posts: Your posts will be completely and utterly ignored.
500-999 posts: People will read your posts, but will never care for the content.
1000-2000 posts: Your posts will be read, your points may be considered, if you're lucky.
2001+ posts and custom title: Your opinion matters.

<div align="right">QFT</div>

[AJBeast]

Andrew had been watching carefully as the Buccaneers walked into the bar. He remembered the noise they caused in the Purple Mist, wrecking the woodwork and etcetera. But then again , this wasn't his problem, Nelson and McMillan could handle it.

"Not much"- said Andrew , as he finished up his beer-"I just have a bit of a favor to ask , amongst other things. You see , soon I will need a substantial amount of mining machinery and robotics bound to Invergordon, so I thought who better to know how to get the stuff than you. I am thinking of starting a little operation there."

He signaled Nelson to bring him another beer.

"Also, since I opened up my bar in Invergordon I got my hands on some fancy local drinks. I thought maybe you would want some, spice this place up a little."

[Darkard]

"The drinks, yeah. No 'arm in 'avin' some veriety. Jus' let Nelson know when the goods a' landing an' 'e can sort out the details."

Nelson made a mental note to put a 'Help Wanted' sign up on the door. McMillan was piling work on him and he would rather just serve drinks and chat. He wandered off to find a suitably large piece of cardboard for his sign as McMillan continued.

"Now, Machinery an' Bots. The Mining kit, thats no problem. That stuffs all over the place. The Bots are a little trickier." McMillan stroked his chin
"I'll try an' get y' sommat sorted. How much a' we talking about here?"

---

0-499 posts: Your posts will be completely and utterly ignored.
500-999 posts: People will read your posts, but will never care for the content.
1000-2000 posts: Your posts will be read, your points may be considered, if you're lucky.
2001+ posts and custom title: Your opinion matters.

<div align="right">QFT</div>

[AJBeast]

"Just enough to setup a small mining operation. I don't know the specifics, but I will give you those numbers once I have 'em. I can get the Mining Ships myself, but I still need the rest of the machinery. Maybe build a couple of storage houses and industrial-grade drills as well. Oh , and I will tell my boy Johnny to contact Nelson. He is the one that handles my bar while I am gone."

At this point the engineer from before entered the bar and headed towards Andrew.

"Sir , your ship is ready."

"Thank you , I suppose this will be enough to cover the expenses"- said Andrew , handing some credit chips to the man.-"Well , I guess I will be going back to Invergordon now. I'll send you the figures once I have 'em."- he said , saying farewell to McMillan

Andrew walked out of the bar and into the docking bay. A few seconds later , a loud yell could be heard inside the bar , coming from the outside.

"God damn it , you didn't fix the bloody paint!"

[Ash]

A man nwalks into the bar holding his respiratory flight mask and goggles. He takes a quick look around before proceeding to the notice board close to the entrance. He quickly takes out a small cylindrical tube and pops open a lid on the end before taking out a large poster. Quickly the man pins up the poster, puts the lid back on and walks back out of the bar.

Are you interested in a career in Piloting, Crewing or Terraforming?

Planetform, Inc. can offer you a path to higher places!

With our standard post graduate starter scheme we can offer to supply funds for your vessel, IC administrative fees and supply you with the training you'l need to be a safe and successful pilot for Planetform.

Our careers in Planetform offer to take you from the far corners of Sirius to the depths our Terraforming shafts into the Planet's crust. Our Terraforming employment contracts will require certain level of astro-physiscs qualifications and other scientific areas depending on your chosen position. However or Pilot and Captain positions are open to any member of the Bretonian or Libertonian public that posess a suitable piloting license and a lawful background.

For more information contact a representative in the New London pilot's lounge or our recruitment services on Canterbury station.

This has been a promotional advertisment from Planetform, Inc.

---

[Darkard]

McMillan had been absent from the bar for quite some time, despite this it appeared to have not fallen appart without him. There was also somone new behind the bar, somone female, and quite good looking too. So either they had done a damm good sex change opperation on Nelson or he had hired somone on without letting him know.

Nelson appeared in the doorway behind McMillan, so that was one question answered. As Nelson tried to shimmy past he noticed who it was he was nudging out of the way.

"M-McMillan! Your back!" he stammered.

McMillan threw his arm over Nelsons shoulders and came down so his face was level with his and looked across the bar at the woman serving drinks to a pair of Mollys.

"Yeah, I am. So tell mi', who is that?" Nelson's gaze followed McMillan's across the room

"Thats the err... new help I hired on. It gets busy you know"

"Right, ok. So when wer' I told about this? Since I assume she's getting paid."

"Oh, yeah, she is. Well I've been paying her out of the takings b-" McMillan's gaze stopped Nellson mid sentance "ah, no, she's practicaly paid for herself"

"Is that so?" McMillan raised an eyebrow

"Yeah, we get more custom. Best looking bar on the station y see. Pilots like the banter with her."

"Right" McMillan released Nelson from his grasp and stood up "In that case 'al take my cut an' then I need y' to sign some documents"

"What for?"

"Im 'anding over this place t' you. 'ave been reposted out t' Yanagi an' 'am not gonna to be able t' keep coming back 'ere t' keep the place in check"

"Y-Your giving me the bar? For my own?"

"Yeah 'a cource, who else would a' give it to?"

"I... I dont know what to say..."

"'ow about, drinks on me Mr McMillan"

"Err... yeah. Yeah of cource" Nelson hurried away to the bar.

With a sigh, McMillan took a seat at one of available booths near the door. He wouldent be staying long, just long enough to overstay his welcome with Nelson and then get him to pack up his stuff.

---

0-499 posts: Your posts will be completely and utterly ignored.
500-999 posts: People will read your posts, but will never care for the content.
1000-2000 posts: Your posts will be read, your points may be considered, if you're lucky.
2001+ posts and custom title: Your opinion matters.

<div align="right">QFT</div>

[jammi]

It was an emotional moment, it truly was. So far as pubs on Trafalgar went, it was historical. McMillian was signing over his bar to Nelson - and what a moment it was. Nelson looked like he was going to well up. Until, that is, an empty bottle flew through the door and shattered on the opposite wall. It appeared that normality had returned, and the world was forcefully reasserting itself.

John Crown stumbled through the door with a bleeding nose, a massive man similarly attired in his own blood staggering in after him. The monster man seized John by the collar of his shirt and hoisted him into the air with one girder-like arm. Kicking his legs desperately, King found himself hanging, helpless. However, as a Buccaneer fair fighting was to King what bicycle was to a fish.

He gave the man a vicious poke to the left eye, which cause the bellowing juggernaut to drop him. As the man swung a mighty paw at him with his one free arm (the other hand being somewhat occupied holding his crushed eye inside his head) King ducked low, feeling the breeze the log of flesh made as it thundered over his head. Before he could try again, King planted a heavy boot into his opponent's crotch. He folded up.

---

News article library, feedback and content requests.