Login

ryeguy146 · (This post was last modified: 05-17-2010, 10:25 PM by ryeguy146.)

Clif moved into the Inn just in time to catch the end of a salute. He nodded to those that he recognized and took a seat with a couple of other Rogue pilots. He had visited a few times before, mostly to pawn off stolen merchandise to the cutthroat Junkers, but also for their food. Far from luxury, but also far from the rations and synth paste that he 'enjoyed' at Alcatraz. He had come with a different goal this time. Though his personal collection of ships was growing, he had found one that was just out of his reach without a little help. Help that he hoped to find here at Rochester, or at least a lead.

In little time, he spotted the man that most likely owned the joint, an older guy, the one that they all seemed to be saluting when he had arrived. "Poor guy looks a wreck," thought Clif, "probably not the best time to bother him but... that's never stopped me before."

He turned to the man next to him, "Who's that older guy over there? The one that looks like he just took a kick to the goods?"

"Ah, ol' Winston, the one and only. The owner of this he-"

Clif didn't let him finish. Let em', and a drunk Rogue will go on for hours. He didn't feel like killing the time, so he moved towards the table that Winston was now visiting.

"Winston?" Clif asked, "I'm Clif of the Liberty Rogues, and I wa-"

It was Clif's turn to be cut off. "Yea? Why should I care?" interrupted Winston, obviously uninterested in whatever some random Rogue had to say.

"Now that ain't the best way to start of a possible business deal. Might take your mind off'a whatever's got ya down," testing for ways to gain the Man's attention.

"Never you mind what's on my mind. Let's have it then, Clif," he spat, "Seems as I won't have my peace until I've hear you out at least."

Reaching into his pocket, Clif produced a few Sirius credit chits and slid them in the direction of Winston. Enough to suit up a rookie rogue with a Bloodhound, but Clif had the money to burn. Not only was smuggling turning out to be a great way to pass time, but it provided him with the means to build up his personal collection of... 'toys.'

Winston made the cards vanish and looked to Clif, waiting. "What I need is information. Seeing as this is a Junker ba-"

"You paid me for a question, you'll get it. I don't need your worthless bilge. Ask your question and be done with it."

"I want to know who I need to talk to about purchasing a Recycler."

Winston looked at Clif for a time and started to laugh, "A Recycler? Don't you Rogues have your fancy Barghests to keep you happy? Need to dip into the Junker's pot too huh?"

"Are you finished?" Clif asked pointedly. "I've seen it around, and I want one. Is that not enough for you? All I need, is the information. Who can I contact about getting one of these ships, the 'why' just isn't your concern."

Silence enveloped the table and Clif waited for the eruption of violence that always followed at Alcatraz. Instead, Winston began to laugh loudly. "Ah, I needed that, boy. Worth a good laugh, you standin' up to ol' Winston here." Clif frowned and waited. "Perhaps someone here can help you, Rogue. No need to get those panties in a dither. Go rejoin your table and I'll see if I can find someone to send over. Now your credit with me is expended, go find someone else to talk to." Winston punctuated the dismissal by turning back to the table and the conversation, leaving Clif alone and without assurances that the conversation would prove fruitful.

He fell heavily into his seat back at the table of Rogues, and ordered another drink. "So that's how it's going to work, huh?" Clif thought to himself. "Fine, I can be patient. I think." He turned to his new drink and decided to at least get nice and toasted if he was going to have to wait on some Junker to overcharge him for their ship, that is, if they were available to him at all.

He just hoped that someone would be able to help him with this newest acquisition.

Mr.Fabulous · (This post was last modified: 05-17-2010, 11:10 PM by Mr.Fabulous.)

' Wrote:... ... ... ...

"I want to know who I need to talk to about purchasing a Recycler."

... ... ... ...

He fell heavily into his seat back at the table of Rogues, and ordered another drink. "So that's how it's going to work, huh?" Clif thought to himself. "Fine, I can be patient. I think." He turned to his new drink and decided to at least get nice and toasted if he was going to have to wait on some Junker to overcharge him for their ship, that is, if they were available to him at all.

He just hoped that someone would be able to help him with this newest acquisition.

As Katarn finished his ceremonial toast of Black Grog, he eyed the lad who came in and talked with Winston...

"Hmmm... The lad is familiar with that ol' chap, Haha..." The old veteran chuckled to himself, and finished the current mug he held.

As he eyed Clif going towards a table, he approached Winston and said, [color=#99FFFF]"Who might that be, Winston? Some o ye ol' chumps? HAHAHAA!"

"Clif... Just some Rogue in these here parts..." He grabs a Black Grog from Katarn's platter and drowns it before continuing, "... And apparently he's looking to purchase a Recycler... A bold statement I should say... We don't just sell off those things to just ANYBODY...

"And if we ever DID find someone holding one without OUR... permission... He's likely to find himself keelhauled somewhere in the Omega systems... Without a spacesuit helmet..."

Then Winston gets an idea in his head, "... Say, Katarn... You used to man a Recycler, didn't you, back in '85? Why not tell 'im about it?"

Katarn's eyebrow raises in joyful surprise and the old vet replies, "... Me? It be a looong while back, Winston! Surely ye don't think me memory still has a hand it te help this young lad?"

"Well... It's only a favor, Katarn... Just go and speak to Clif and ask what he intends to do with the Recycler. Just that much, at least."

The old veteran grins wryly back at the bartender, "... Aye... That I can do, laddy, AHAHAHAHA!!!"

Katarn takes two full tankards of Black Grog over to Clif's table and sits on the chair opposite of him, his rugged trench-coat flowing naturally to the left side, revealing a very exotic pistol and several deep pockets next to it.

The old veteran offers with his human arm a mug of Black Grog and a daring grin over to the patiently-waiting Rogue, "Care te enjoy yerself with some refreshments? I'll warn ye though... The alchohol in this here drink be a bit... concentrated, HAHAHA!!!"

Factions Involved In

:::

Click the links below for more of my content!
>>> Roleplay Info & Character Feedback Thread
>>> DeviantArt
>>> Youtube

ryeguy146 · (This post was last modified: 05-18-2010, 09:16 AM by ryeguy146.)

Clif smelled the alcohol coming, and knew that he'd have a hangover to drink off the next morning. The man was undoubtedly coming to him. Clif had seen him speak to Winston and now he was on his way.

"Care te enjoy yerself with some refreshments? I'll warn ye though... The alchohol in this here drink be a bit... concentrated, HAHAHA!!!"

Finishing the remaining half of his beer and smashing the can seemed a good a response as any. He stood to meet the man and took a chance to notice that the man was a Junker. An armed Junker. A Junker with at least one artificial limb. The observations were made in quick succession, and he looking the man in the eye and nodded, grabbing one of the mugs.

"So, I'm assuming that you're here because of my discussion with the venerable Winston?"

Katarn confirmed Clif's suspicions and introduced himself. The Junker had a uproarious sense of humor and seemed to enjoy everything, especially the grog. But the way that he wore his weapon spoke to his experience in less pleasant situations. But there was nothing for it now, Clif had stuck his head in it, like he always did, and had to ride this one out. He took a chug of grog and tried to begin, but coughed instead. Apparently, the Junkers made it a little stronger than on Alcatraz. Just a touch, he thought as Katarn busted into another laughing fit that almost sent the thick dark alcohol through his nose.

Clif chuckled and wiped the grog from the side of his own mouth and began. "Well, what I told Winston is the whole of it, I'm looking to get a hold of a Recycler. Now, I know that these things are built from scrap and salvage, but I also know that they're Junker constructions. I wouldn't up an' buy one without their say-so. Might be bad for my health."

Another swig of grog and he continued, "So ya know, it won' be sitting lanes. I've got a Barghest to do that. I need this boat for one thing, protecting Rogues. My boys go up through the Taus to do some smuggling, and what do we run into? Conscientious objectors. Not the peaceful kind either, oh no, that'd be too easy. This kind don' like our cargo, want us to spill it. Our transports need some protection up that way. Well, I'm not looking to take my expensive Barghest out that far and risk it so that others can make bank. That Recycler of yours is cheap to fix, if anything gets broken, and won't draw the attention that my other fighters would. The thick hide and sharper teeth are just a bonus."

Katarn nodded throughout the story and grunted in all the right parts. Clif thought that he might be making some progress with the man, but one could never be sure with a Junker. "I've a few other plans to possibly expand our... shipping in the future, and the ship would be used there as well. Other than that, it'll get docked at Buffalo. Might come out to nip some bounty boys heels when they get too close to the base," Clif said laughing. Another large swallow of the grog, and his vision noticeably decreased. Powerful alcohol. Rather drunk he continued, "An' truf be told, I do love me a big fat fleet'a ships. Heh. I've collected me 'bout all the Rogues make, n' now this one. Don' get me wrong, it ain' gonna jush sit'n collect dust neither, all me beauties get ta stretch their legs." Clif finished his mug, and keeping from falling off the chair took a good portion of his attention. "So 'nother one?"

Mr.Fabulous · 05-18-2010, 10:12 AM,

' Wrote:Clif smelled the alcohol coming, and knew that he'd have a hangover to drink off the next morning. The man was undoubtedly coming to him. Clif had seen him speak to Winston and now he was on his way.

"Care te enjoy yerself with some refreshments? I'll warn ye though... The alchohol in this here drink be a bit... concentrated, HAHAHA!!!"

Finishing the remaining half of his beer and smashing the can seemed a good a response as any. He stood to meet the man and took a chance to notice that the man was a Junker. An armed Junker. A Junker with at least one artificial limb. The observations were made in quick succession, and he looking the man in the eye and nodded, grabbing one of the mugs.

"So, I'm assuming that you're here because of my discussion with the venerable Winston?"

Katarn confirmed Clif's suspicions and introduced himself. The Junker had a uproarious sense of humor and seemed to enjoy everything, especially the grog. But the way that he wore his weapon spoke to his experience in less pleasant situations. But there was nothing for it now, Clif had stuck his head in it, like he always did, and had to ride this one out. He took a chug of grog and tried to begin, but coughed instead. Apparently, the Junkers made it a little stronger than on Alcatraz. Just a touch, he thought as Katarn busted into another laughing fit that almost sent the thick dark alcohol through his nose.

Clif chuckled and wiped the grog from the side of his own mouth and began. "Well, what I told Winston is the whole of it, I'm looking to get a hold of a Recycler. Now, I know that these things are built from scrap and salvage, but I also know that they're Junker constructions. I wouldn't up an' buy one without their say-so. Might be bad for my health."

Another swig of grog and he continued, "So ya know, it won' be sitting lanes. I've got a Barghest to do that. I need this boat for one thing, protecting Rogues. My boys go up through the Taus to do some smuggling, and what do we run into? Conscientious objectors. Not the peaceful kind either, oh no, that'd be too easy. This kind don' like our cargo, want us to spill it. Our transports need some protection up that way. Well, I'm not looking to take my expensive Barghest out that far and risk it so that others can make bank. That Recycler of yours is cheap to fix, if anything gets broken, and won't draw the attention that my other fighters would. The thick hide and sharper teeth are just a bonus."

Katarn nodded throughout the story and grunted in all the right parts. Clif thought that he might be making some progress with the man, but one could never be sure with a Junker. "I've a few other plans to possibly expand our... shipping in the future, and the ship would be used there as well. Other than that, it'll get docked at Buffalo. Might come out to nip some bounty boys heels when they get too close to the base," Clif said laughing. Another large swallow of the grog, and his vision noticeably decreased. Powerful alcohol. Rather drunk he continued, "An' truf be told, I do love me a big fat fleet'a ships. Heh. I've collected me 'bout all the Rogues make, n' now this one. Don' get me wrong, it ain' gonna jush sit'n collect dust neither, all me beauties get ta stretch their legs." Clif finished his mug, and keeping from falling off the chair took a good portion of his attention. "So 'nother one?"

Katarn's face couldn't control it any longer: he burst out with laughter so hard it almost started to rock the mugs that lay on their table, "HAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAH!!! Ye be drunk already, laddy?! HAHAHAHA! I expected more o' yer build te handle such measly 70% alchohol content!

"But anyway, laddy... Here. I need ye te be fine fer the talk we be havin, eh?" He dug deep into one of his right outer-trench-coat pockets with his left robotic arm, and fashioned out a blue, crescent-shaped pill from his construct hand, [color=#99FFFF]"... This be helpful in yer state o' mind... Please, take it, laddy!"

Clif, being the cautious sort, didn't take it very well to be offered drugs from out of the blue... but his wide grin... didn't show any sign of deceit...And besides: this is probably better than a hangover, right?

He reluctantly grabbed the pill with his thumb and pointing finger, and chucked it down his mouth... In a few seconds the drug took its effects, and suddenly Clif's vision and balance were quickly starting to come back... " ... Thanks..."

"Aye, no need te thank me, lad... WINSTON! GET US S'MOR GROG, HAHAHAHAHA!" He snapped his fingers in the air in a calling fasion to the innkeeper.

"But..." Katarn's eyes narrow down deeply to stare directly at Clif's eyes, his jolly grin still holding its place, "... In all seriousness, laddy... Yer logic not be too far-off, in fact... The Recycler be a good ship fer combing the far reaches o' Sirius, and in a place as junked as the Taus Systems by the Bretonian-Kusari War Wrecks floatin all round it be easy te find replacement parts fer the thing...

"The only problem being... Politics be a..." The old veteran waved his hand in a circular fashion, "... Fickle thing at best... If ye intend te take the fight te yer enemies, I'd be more than willing te help ye, lad, HAHAHA!!! Could be lots o' fun, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAH!!!

"Yet I don't think the Junkers be likin it fer their best ship te be fightin off these... objectionists, ye say? Ye haven't even mentioned yet who these objectionists be, lad. To have the Junkers' pride and joy o' a ship be tryin te destroy some potential allies in such a... fun environment, would be a big no no, as far as I can tell, eh?

"Sooo..." Winston arrived with another tray of Black Grog, "... How's about this: Ye give me the full details as te what yer intending te fight, and I try to see what I can do fer ye, see?" He proceeds to drown another Black Grog and, after finishing said drink in a few seconds, continued on, "... Don't worry, lad... The drinks are on me... HAHAHAHAHAAAAH!!!"

Factions Involved In

:::

Click the links below for more of my content!
>>> Roleplay Info & Character Feedback Thread
>>> DeviantArt
>>> Youtube

Mr.Fabulous · 05-20-2010, 11:35 AM,

But before Clif could speak, Katarn suddenly felt some tapping on his shoulder.

The old veteran turned his head round and up to find a junker standing right beside him: he was 1.75 meters tall, had brown long hair cropped up into a ponytail, a neatly-combed goatee, and looked like he was reching his 40's; he wore a similar trench-coat to Katarn's, but this one being clean and new; his red-tinted eyes showed a similar glint of youth to Katarn's, and held an excited smile and atmosphere about him.

" ... Fenton?! Is that be you, by chance?!" Katarn's eyes widened with joy, and his grin widened happily, [color=#99FFFF]"Ye look so... grown up, from whence I first laid me eyes on ye!"

The Junker laughed as Katarn was amazed at seeing his old friend, "Yes!!! It's ME, Katarn, you old coot! I thought your memory started to lose its touch when you missed seeing me as you walked into the inn!"

The old veteran laughed very heartily at his remark, "HAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAHA!!! FENTON!!! IT be sooooo long te see ye, lad! Why, the last time I saw ye was when ye were still green off the academy, with a badge o' graduation and everythin!" Katarn stood up and motioned to allow the Junker the right to sit alongside them, but was refused.

"Ah... I'm sorry, Katarn... I'm a bit busy at the moment. I'm sorry we can't get together to talk about times past, and what's happened ever sine we parted ways in Liberty, since I'm now a proud captain of a Salvager named the Orichalc, and the crew's still waiting for me to come back from my break."

The Old veteran's grin didn't waver, but it was evident his eyes went a bit sadder, "... Really? ... Ah... T'is a shame, laddy... I was so hopin ye could drink s'mor grog and sing songs with me...

"Ye say ye are a Salvager captain, eh? That be good, laddy... Not many junkers be as lucky te be so aspiring as ye, lad, hahahahah..."

As the captain started to walk away, he suddenly remembered something from out of the blue that prompted him to stop and turn back to face Katarn, "... Oh yeah. Katarn... I have... information for you...

"It's concerning... Clare..."

Katarn's eyes practically shot wide open, and he almost snorted his grog out through his nose when the name Clare came out of Fenton's mouth.

Immediately he stood up and quickly went to Fenton, "CLARE?! W-WHAT?! H-H-HOW?! Have ye seen her, by any chance, laddy?!"

"No... I'm sorry once again, Katarn...

"All I have, however, was a rumor from one of my Corsair-bred crewmembers that said she was finally going back to Crete to visit her parents there. Here... I'll load up the address of her parent's house on Planet Crete into you're PDA, Katarn..." He gets out a datapad from one of his pockets and taps away at it until Katarn gets some beeping from his own trench-coat and almost immediately takes out his own and scans the files.

Katarn's eyes suddenly start to drop a few tears before replying, "... Thank ye, Fenton... This... This be great news te hear... I finally have a lead... After all these years..."

Fenton approached Katarn and placed a condoling hand on the old veteran's shoulder, "Please... It's the least I can do for what you did for me back then... And I only came up with that rumor from luck too! Joshua used to be Clare's childhood friend when she was young, so evidently he'd know the address to where she used to live...

"Give your friend my best wishes, Katarn... Safe travels." He gives a lucky smile to Katarn, then walks away slowly out the inn and back to his ship.

Katarn suddenly raised his head up to look at an imaginary sky above him, then muttered some words to himself, "... Clare... It's been... so long....

... lassy..."

He quickly sprints out the inn, leaving Clif alone to himself and the Black Grog...

Factions Involved In

:::

Click the links below for more of my content!
>>> Roleplay Info & Character Feedback Thread
>>> DeviantArt
>>> Youtube

ryeguy146 · (This post was last modified: 05-21-2010, 08:34 PM by ryeguy146.)

Clif caught little of the conversation, his attention was focused on a small device in his jacket pocket giving him a small but recurring electrical shock. "Who..." Clif trailed off. His mutterings completely drowned out by the conversation between the two Junkers. With a quick look around, he carefully opened the pocket and grabbed the device as well as a cigarette that he kept there. He dropped the device into his lap so that he could read the LCD discretely and lit up the cigarette. With no one the wiser, Clif learned why the notification was so urgent. He rubbed his chest where the electrode had burnt his skin. Someone high up was calling him to Montezuma.

Shaking his head, Clif turned to say his goodbyes to Katarn, but saw nothing of the man. "Winston! One for the road. This Rogue needs to jet." The old bartender glared at the Rogue with disgust and threw a can at him. Clif managed to soften the blow with a free hand and laughed as it him him in the side. He stooped to grab the can and put his mouth to one of the many holes now gushing beer and polished off the contents. "Now that hit the spot," Clif grinned and tossed a credit chit to Winston as he walked to his ship. "I wonder what they need of me this time..."

SMI-Great.Fox · 06-01-2010, 08:53 AM,

*Bret walks from his room back down to the bar....ignoring the conversations around him*
Bartender:....What do you want now?....
Bret:..Just a shot of SCRA Vodka if yah got it....If not...just a soda.......
Bartender:..That's some exspensive tastes yah got there.....
Bret:..Tell me about it.....

*The bartender pours his drink and hand it to Bret*
Bartender:..Anythin else?....
Bret:...No...I just want to be left alone....
*The bartender walks off to serve the other customers*

*Bret swing down his glass...and heads for the musicplayer on the wall....He puts in some credits and puts in his selection....An old Sol song starts playing......... [Hemorrhage--In my Hands--By Fuel]...begins to sound in the background......Bret then returns to his stool at the bar...and waves for a refill....*

-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005

Ships Log of the Maverick IV Logs of the Maverick.V The.Maverick.IV & Maverick.V Feedback Lot How it all began...

Switchback · 06-04-2010, 05:13 PM,

*Jack Walked into the Bar, carrying a bag full of High Quality Silverware, leaving it to rest on a Table. He walked over to the bar with a smile on his face*

Well, 'ello there barkeep. I got ya some new Supplies. A luxury Liner was quite reluctant for me taken em, but i persuaded them. *chuckles* So. Ile Have a Libertonian Steak, and the best Liberty Ale you got. Oh, and Free Drinks for the entire bar for the remainder of the day, on me tab. Dont worry if it gets to...High. Ile just Get some Trader to pay it for me.
Barkeeper: Sure thing.
*Jack walked to a table at the Corner of the room. Knowing he was being watched, he set his weapon to kill and placed it on the table.*

Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.

Husher · 06-11-2010, 01:45 PM,

When he walked in the normal hussle was going on.

A fight between some angry guys happend in one of the corners.
Seems likely it was going over some cheating while gambling.
It was quikly ended by some bouncers.

He walked to the back of the bar where he took place.
A wall behind him so no'one could sneak up.
He looked around and spotted the bartender.
A young fella he thought but it seems he's seen his share.
"Edgar grinned" This live made ye old fast.

What can i serve ye sir? the bartender asked.
Gimme some'hing strong, got s'me malt?
The bartender grabbed a bottle and with a experienced hand he pours in a glass.
Edgar drank the glass in a single gulp empty.
Again.. he said while trowing some credits on the bar.

With a filled glass in front of him he just enjoyed the noise in the bar.
Maybe some interestin' will happ'n he thought.
Ship secured in dock, Jonsey managing the ship, i'l take me day of t'day.
And he sat back nipping from his malt.

Bazza · 08-04-2010, 08:00 AM,

The destroyer Maelstrom is observed approaching Rochester Base from the entangled mass of the Jersey Debris field. The crew of the lumbering vessel align it to the external dock of the base and carefully lock it into position.

The unusual composition of the Maelstrom's crew flow out from their vessel into the "comfort" of Rochester. The leader laboriously makes her way to the noticeboard affixed to the wall of Rochester's' common room. She briefly reads over the existing notices before adding her own to it; making her way to the bar immediately thereafter.

Login
Username:
Password:	Lost Password?
	Remember me