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Voting has reset for the month of September. Valucre is in the top 10 but we aim for the top 3 for maximum visibility when people land on the home page of the topsite. If you want to help new members discover Valucre, vote for us daily.

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      Vote for Valucre [September]   09/01/2017

      Voting for the month of September is open on TopRPSites! Vote for Valucre daily and help new members searching for a place to roleplay discover the same joys you have in Valucre. You can vote daily, so make voting for Valucre a habit. Discussion thread
Viice

⊰ The Black Cherry ⊱ A Brawlers Bar & Inn

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                                                          User ImagexxxxxUser Image
                                                                                                     

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                                                  • Welcome to a Brawlers Bar & Inn
                                                    • While exploring the city of Oakwood, you find yourself in the Port district among a chaotic array of businesses; from bars to restaurants, shops to corner stands, brothels to underground markets. Something about a particular establishment, however, entices you to take a closer look.

                                                      It is the red light that first draws you to it's doors. You're eyes fall on a sign crafted from dark cherrywood, though you are surprised to see there are no words on this door. So where are you? Your only clue is the beautifully painted black cherry in it's center. 

                                                      Nestled among the chaos, the red light above it's simple sign illuminates the building to allow for a closer look. Decored with red tinted windows and crimson trimming, The Black Cherry stands out in Oakwood as a unique establishment, one with the dark beauty of a thorned rose. 

                                                      Upon entering, you find yourself in a bar lit by candles and tinted with lights of crimson and gold. Hookah and incense smoke linger in the air. Comfortably cushioned barstools are displayed along with scattered Hookahs patrons may smoke at their leisure, though some choose to bring their own poison.

 



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                                                    • Near the bar is a lounge furnished with large couches, trimmed in lace and maintaining the dark red and black theme that seems prominent throughout the Cherry. A pool table, dart board and grand piano are found in the lounge, and there is also a fireplace which is steadily kept burning, heating the area and creating a warm atmosphere. 

                                                      The bar itself runs along the back wall directly across from the main entrance. atop the bar patrons will find ash trays scattered for public use, bowls of complimentary cherries, and scented candles. Behind the bar, and all along the Tavern, are flat screen TV's hooked up to cameras that watch what happens in the Pit. Details can be found below. 

                                                      Up the stairs you will find rooms, and for a small fee they may be rented nightly. Every room is decorated with bouquets of red and black roses, restocked regularly. You can choose a single or double, and room service is available just as it is in a hotel, at an additional cost of course. 

                                                      The place, however, is a paradox. Despite it's soft and alluring glow, the Cherry's patrons are generally a deadly bunch. It has become known as a brawlers bar, not at all a place for the faint of heart. Fights are frequent and encouraged and there are no bouncers, only a resident healer who reserves her talents for near-death situations exclusively.

                                                       

                                                      The Hot Springs:


                                                       
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                                                    • Branching off of the lounge, through the back of the Cherry is a hallway that leads down underground, about as deep as it's Pit, but removed from it; it is not part of the basement. 

                                                      Upon entering it appears this is a very well kept cave of some sort. Stalactites reach down from the ceiling, as beautifully foreboding as the rest of the place. Candles burn endlessly by some unspoken and unquestioned magic, and bubbling pools of florescent blue offer their steamy, welcoming embrace. These are the indoor hot springs. 

                                                      There are 6 pools total, three large and three small, offering the option of privacy for those who seek it. The larger pools can service 8-10 patrons at once; the underground caves span the entirety of the property which the Cherry sits on and are almost larger than the establishment itself. 

                                                      With plenty of room to unwind, the hot springs are a hit with battered fighters looking to soak after a good fight.



 

 

 


Some who visit the Black Cherry experience a very sudden and strange sense of awareness when they pass through her doors.

They tend to describe it as familiarity, as if they've visited this tavern in dream or another life.

Perhaps you've been here before?

 

 

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                                                • If someone has a problem with you, 
                                                  you don't take it outside.
                                                   
                                                  You take it to The Pit.
 
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                                                        • While very few rules apply and brawls may break out anywhere, planned fights are generally taken to The Pit, located in the BlackCherry's basement. Anyone can use The Pit, so long as it's understood that there is no outside jurisdiction past those stairs. Those entering make and brake the rules. It's fight or die.

                                                          If you've seen Fight Club, it will be easy for you to understand The Pit's purpose. A beat up, heavy door held open by an equally heavy looking doorstop leads down into this arena. Unlike the rest of the Tavern, it appears unimpressive; just a dingy basement with a dirt floor. For training purposes, there are punching bags hanging from the ceiling in the corner, kept out of the way of where the actual fights are held. The walls are simply hard cement, and the rafters above can be seen. But it's what has been done here that makes The Pit incredible. 

                                                          The fighters are endlessly thankful for that unimpressive dirt floor. A hard floor would make for a quicker fight; the dirt floor cushions the falls that brawlers are bound to take. You can smell it in the walls; the sweat, the blood, the screams as bones snapped and muscles tore. People had been broken here, destroyed by their own rage and hubris.

                                                          One might notice that in every corner of the Pit, camera's are mounted to the ceiling. These cameras film every fight that goes on and feeds these videos up to the flat screen TV's upstairs. This allows patrons to watch the fights from the comfort of the bar, lounge, or hot springs, or even from their rooms if they choose to tune in. 

                                                          Voice command software has also been added to the Pit, so fighters can opt to have music play while they brawl simply by yelling the word Play. If they want a specific song, they simply have to follow with the name of the song and the artist. Two manual interfaces for the stereo system can be found at the entrance of each of the two Pit's. 

                                                          And yes, there are actually two arena's available for use, the one that the stairs lead to, and one that is accessed by traversing a long hallway with doors on either side. These doors lead to 3 private rooms, belonging to close friends of the owner, Valkyrie. 

                                                           
Edited by Viice

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          • User ImagexThis is a walk in Tavern. I don't want profiles, be descriptive enough so that I don't need one! If you end up being a bartender or influential to the Cherry's story line then I may ask for a brief summery to add to a dedicated character section for this thread (if one gets made for this thread), but that's it.

            User ImagexIf you come to the OOC thread and ask us for assistance or advice believe me, you will get it. 

            User ImagexPlease be mindful of post orders, and try not to skip people.

            User ImagexTry to keep OOC content in the OOC thread (adding one soon kinda try to wait for that hehe)

            User ImagexI don't mind pictures in your posts, just don't go nuts with it please. Also, of course, respect the rules of Valucre with your pictures. 

            User ImagexI know the hot springs are going to bring all kinds of steamy romance scenes, but keep it within Valucre's rule and guidelines too.

            User ImagexI am not strict about where fights are held. Have them anywhere, I don't care, as long as it makes for a good story and read. Please don't mindlessly destroy everything for the sake of destroying it, because that's annoying. I prefer you fight in The Pit, but I will not enforce it. 

 

"The Cherry is a bit different than the average walk in thread. More so because it's based out of a larger world with a large base of decent great Roleplayer and diverse characters. It's a brawlers escape, and playground of sorts. Essentially it's meant to settle character disputes run random fights and the like. It's got it's own back story and edge, like any good tavern does. That doesn't take away from the fact that it is a good place for not only character development but to test character diversity."

                                                                                           - Genetic Genocide, who frequented the Cherry in a far off land...

 

Edited by Viice

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                      •  
       
            •  User Image 12/23/16 - Grand Opening: We are officially open! If you happen to also RP on Gaia, you might recognize The Black Cherry, and we welcome you whether you're new or returning to this Tavern! We hope to make this familiar thread just as fun and memorable here as it was on Gaia. If you're wondering how your character should operate if in cannon they've been to the Cherry before and they remember it from Gaia, you have two options. You can either treat it as a strange vague sort of familiarity, as the Cherry DOES exist in another realm as well and perhaps they don't have full memory of it, or you can treat it as if they fully remember the Cherry and are just visiting another location which has opened under the same name and owner. I'm approaching this as if Valkyrie has two locations now, and visits both periodically through rifts in space and time. 

               



               
Edited by Viice

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 Several months go...

 

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For a long time she stares out from the hillside on the edge of the lake, admiring the scenery and mapping the new landscape. A cigarette smolders between her dark lips....she's a black stain on the lush, green countryside, all leather and smoke and long lonely strides. Her boots are thick and steel toed, yet every footfall is quiet.       

The woman moves like a predator, but still manages grace. 

Dark clouds loom overhead like sudden, silent Gods, stalking monsters she brings with her. She has no problem navigating through the uncharted territory, some misplaced sense of familiarity guiding her. There's a presence, here. The city ahead...that's where she'll build it. 

 

Smoke rushes out the corners of her mouth. 

 

She has work to do.

 

   

a strange woman came to Taen...

 

"This is it, then?"

The redhead scoffs a little at the abandoned storefront, tilting her head and narrowing her golden eyes. 

"This is it."

"You sure it'll fit?"

"The numbers say it will." 

Valkyrie nods, pointing towards the dilapidated wooden frame. 

"The place caught fire some time ago, I just need you to finish the job."

The redhead smirks a little, thumbing her nose. Her knuckles read Fire Bird

"You want it all gone, aye?"

"Leave not a trace." 

 

 

She brought a Tavern to Oakwood from a faraway land

 

It takes three days to trace the runes they need into the ash where the storefront once stood.

A blue-skinned mage paces the scorched earth, drawing these runes carefully with her jeweled feet. She dances as ashes rain down lightly all around her, chanting softly, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. The common folk of the Port District stare as they pass by, some stopping to watch and whisper. What kind of place is being built here? What kind of dark magic is this? 

On day three, it becomes apparent that the building isn't being built at all. Up from ashes, it grows in the image of a Tavern, the runes at it's base glowing like the eyes of the mage that brings it here. Valkyrie watches from the street with a content smile.

It fits, alright. As if it had been here all along.  

 

called The Black Cherry

 

The five monitors mounted behind the vacant bar flicker to life, one by one. They're nothing but hissing static at first, but soon they each snap to their respective programmed channels; four of them displaying the pit from all different angles, and one displaying the bubbling hot springs in the Cherry's caves. 

The pit is empty for now, boasting nothing but a dusty punching bag hanging off to the side of it's filthy circular arena. The hot springs seem to have had their routine cleaning mechanism activated, which involves a fine mesh wire running through each pool to collect whatever unmentionables were left behind by previous clients. 

The rest of the tavern blooms with dim lighting that supplements the burning candles, their harmony giving the Cherry it's signature blood red glow. The jukebox kicks on as the final switch is flicked to complete this familiar atmosphere. 

 

Through the front doors, just as the sun is raising, Valkyrie steps into the main lobby.

Naturally, she gravitates towards the dusty stairway. The Pit calls to her like an old friend, loyal always to her needs. 

As she descends, her shoulders dip back to send a long jacket sliding down her chalk-white arms. One slender finger hooks it's throat and hangs it on a rusty nail at the bottom of the stairs. Simple as always, she wears a clingy black long sleeve turtle-neck and leather shorts with shin high steel-toes, also leather. Her hands are already wrapped with tape, and she rubs her knuckles as she surveys the small dusty arena with reverence. 

She starts with the pipes. Hopping up, she clings to the piping above her head and lifts herself with a slow curl of a bicep, up until her chin is just over the metal hose. Again. Again. Again. 

Her legs cross and she goes on. It isn't long before her breathing shakes softly with each ascent, knuckles going white under their bandage wraps from the strength of her grip. She isn't counting like she should be.

The music sets the tone of her rhythm. 

Finally she releases the pipe to let her boots touch ground, a sigh of relief echoing through the dingy arena. She drags her palm up her forehead to her hairline, slick with sweat, and glances up at the pipe. It's slightly dented from her grip. 

Next, she stretches, bringing her arms up over her head and tilting her body left, right, cracking her fingers one at a time by bridging them and sending them up towards the heavens. One leg moves outward and she lowers into a half crouch, stretching one side before switching to put her weight on the other. 

A series of similar stretches are performed before she falls forward, her palms smacking the ground as she catches herself and goes right into a set of push ups. Her actions seem almost military in their smooth, crisp execution. 

Up next....she pads over to the darker corner of the room, where the suspended punching bag awaits her.

THOOM...THOOM, THWACK, THOOM...

In no time her fists are connecting with the heavy, imaginary partner in front of her. She stays light on her feet, throwing kicks that threaten to send the entire thing off of it's steel hinge. Dust shakes with each impact, clouding around her in slow motion while she moves like the monster she is, throwing strikes with imaginary blades where the ribs would be, where the heart would be, where the throat would be...

Her teeth clench and bare as she puts the face of every enemy she's ever had on that bag. Reeling back, she turns and swings her leg, her boot-heel slamming against the sack of sand so hard that the other side of it bursts open in an explosion of dust and grain. She exhales sharply, her foot slowly coming down to touch ground.

A miniature dune collects below the broken punching bag, and a single word hisses through clenched fangs. 

 

"Shit."

 

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Edited by Viice

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NOTE: Until or if @Viice returns, certain members, including myself will be controlling "assistant bartenders" and the like so as to make sure this continual thread does not completely die out. 

 

There was nothing special about Gregory. Not his face, not his voice and certainly not his job. Other than his mother he doubted that there was anyone who even knew his name. Even his boss had called him Robert not that long ago. But the janitor rather enjoyed his life. Lunaris had been an interesting couple of months but it was no Oakwood. A smile formed on his lips as the heat from the suns washed over his face. 

Flap.

Gregory scratched his chin. Where had the noise come from? He craned his neck to every which angle only to spot every else doing the same. 

Flap.

Louder now. His heart threatened to punch from his chest and his breath became short. In hindsight Gregory would wonder why he'd been so nervous. He hadn't even seen the creature making the noise at the point and had not even a single reason to fear what was coming. Except that some part of the man did know. There was a primal part of everyone in Oakwood who could feel her arrival. At the dawn of mankind there had been a civilization already in place, their ancient existence dwarfing even the oldest human. 

FLAP.

His eyes raised toward the sky. Under his widening pupils, his body trembled in pure awe. Over his long life of sixty-five years Gregory had encountered many creatures though he was by no means an adventurer. But he had never dreamed of seeing one of the winged creatures of the sky. Could the beast hear his heart beating wildly in his chest? He wouldn't be surprised if it could. It wasn't fear that struck out his heart- Gregory knew fear. He feared many things in life. But the feeling in his mind and body was certainly not the toe curling, shiver inducing fear that one would expect to come with the arrival of a dragon.

Looking upward at the dragon, Gregory couldn't help but feel inferior. Like a bug looking up at a circling bird. If he were a wolf, chances were high that he would've have lied down and tilted his neck toward the dragon. A show of submission. The mighty size and power of the creature guaranteed nothing less than a quick and unremarkable death. It was all he could do to not piss his pants as the 13 meter tall beast tucked in its wings and plummeted down toward them. Its blue scales reflecting the powerful sunlight with each slight movement the beast made.

A scream threatened to rip from his throat, but he was cut off but a shoulder that slammed into his chest. The sound of hundreds of footsteps filled the street of Oakwood as people scrambled out of the way. But Gregory didn't move. Instead he only gripped tighter his cane and set his face in a determined fashion. 

There may have been nothing significant about him, but nothing spoke of his bravery. The man puffed out his chest and stood his ground against the oncoming creature and all it represented. If it meant harm to Oakwood, he would fight with all he had. He would-

A blinding blue light enveloped the dragon as it flew downward. Little by little the radiant ball shrunk in size, minimizing from a massive 13 meters to a solid 5" 7' before coming to an abrupt stop in the cleared space.

"By Gaia," the man whispered as the light rescinded. 

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She shifted her wieght slightly to adjust for the giant claymore strapped diagonally across her back. The instant presence of her sword after the shift never ceased to throw off her balance. Blue eyes stared out at her audience while a frown pulled at the edges of her lips. Having people surround her like some kind of zoo animal was expected though it still unnerved her. 

But it was the lone male human standing firmly before her which caused her blood to boil. It was with enormous effort that she didn't reach for her blade and relieve the aged human of his head. The arrogance of mankind was an ever lasting thorn in her side. For insects, they certainly thought large of themselves. She sucked in a breath as her wings tucked in and reached up to readjust the claymore until the sword was comfortably atop the wings. 

Crystal Kennex glared at the male before her as she forced a stray strand of her starling silver hair behind an ear. Perhaps she should've worn a wig, the snowy white color of her hair wasn't likely to blend in with this new world.

For the millionth time that day her nose twitched at the smell of the swamp air. Putrid. This was where Marik had decided to travel?

Breathe, Crystal.

She swallowed the growl and switched her glare into an unassuming face. The dragon shot her most charming smile at the man before speaking words she hoped he understood. If this city didn't speak the common tongue she might very well just burn it all down. The ancient creatures she'd previously encountered had spoken a tongue older than even Dragon Speak. If there was one thing Crystal knew about herself, it was that she didn't take well to feeling small. 

"Have you any idea where I can find a man named Marik? Marik Cayne?" Had she done it right? Crystal checked off the behaviors her father had told her human females had. Gentle tone? Check. Disarming body posture? Check. Pretty smile? Check. Flick of the hair? Crystal cocked her hips with the question and used the back of her hands to wave some of her hair. Check. 

When the man didn't immediately answer, Crystal was worried she done it wrong. After all, humans were difficult creatures to understand. Their methods of interaction were unlike any other creature- although she found it similar to that of birds. Flap their wings, buff their chest and act like total fools. 

"The F-f-founder? He hasn't been around for w-weeks now," the old man responded. The audible quiver in his voice causing Crystal's predator nature purr. It was that same purr that Crystal now had to hold back, her teeth grinding under the fake smile. "B-but if it's info...information you need there's always T-the Black Cherry."

She was supposed to get answers from a discolored fruit? What weird creatures humans. 

"Tell me male, where can I find this black cherry you speak of?" Hopefully they wouldn't say she needed to eat it. Cherry juice always stained her human clothes, especially the preferred white shirt wrapped tightly around her torso. As the man seemed to think, her black shitkickers tapped impatiently against the ground. But instead of a response the man just pointed to a rather interesting looking establishment a couple dozen meters away. Well that made more since. Fruits couldn't talk, even among the kind made by humans.

As Crystal approached The Black Cherry the scent in the air changed. Momentarily shocked the dragon paused, eyes narrowed in warning to whatever permeated the smell. It was...otherworldly. There was no other way to describe the smell of the tavern.

This time she didn't hold back the growl that rumbled from her lips as she stepped through the doorway and into The Black Cherry. Lifting her nose, Crystal took in a deep breath. 

"I've come for information," she shouted in the same human language as before.

Unlike her father, Crystal was reluctant to shed her draconian accent from the common tongue. Sure it would help her blend in, but humans would rue the day when a dragon of Solum Irae needed to blend in.

Wait, that wasn't how humans traded information.

"I mean, 'sup give me a cold one."

Nailed it. 

Edited by Ataraxy

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The sound of someone entering brings Valkyrie back to reality. She glances up towards the basement ceiling, her brow arching slightly as she hears the shouting woman above. 

Lethargically, the vampress makes her way towards the stairs, hooking her finger in the wraps around her knuckles and loosening them as she climbs up to the main floor. 

 

The door to the Pit opens and Val appears, her eyes falling on the culprit. There's nothing welcoming or warm about her body language, as one might expect from the owner of an establishment. 

She kicks the door shut behind her and begins fully unraveling the wraps, one hand revolving around the other in a swift and calculated motion. She never takes her eyes off the woman.

Closing the distance between herself and the bar, her gaze lingers on the wings that rest on Crystal's back -- not at all unusual where Val is from, but certainly the first she'd seen here. 

She reeks of dragon. It isn't hard to identify that regal, commanding nature either. Dragons tend not to be masters of disguise. 

 

"Can I help you?"

 

Valkyrie's voice is an incredibly strange thing. It resonates two harmonized tones at once, lacing her words with a dangerously beautiful, cold charm. 

She, too, is very obviously not human, from the make of her voice, to the black around her crimson irises, to her very prominent canines.

Her catlike movements speak of something ancient, cheapened by simple modern garb and common tongue, a useless attempt to blend in. 

 

At least they have a common ground in that. 

Edited by Viice

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Jackson stomped down the street, a cigar dangling from his lips. He shoves a passerby out of the way, sending the poor old man careening into a trash can. As a young man walks over to stop him, he pulls his pistol out and shoots the fellow square in the face. A tavern. Just what he wanted. He stops in front of it, turning to look and make sure no one is following him. He kicks the door open and strolls in. "Bloody hell..." he mutters to himself. This place is fancy. He throws himself down on one of the velvety red couches and loudly announces his desire for a drink, then pulls out a very large knife and starts sharpening it threateningly. He spits the cigar out onto the couch and waits for a waiter.

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Crystal cocked her head to the side as her voice bounced off the walls of the tavern. Were human establishments usually this empty? Perhaps the man had lied to her and this place was actually, what was the human word for it? Abandoned? Probably not, judging by the pristine of the bar and the nearby sofas but in the end humans were irrational creatures. She had long since ceased to be shocked when they did something ridiculous or stupid- usually both.

The opening of a door was Crystal's only warning that she wasn't, in fact, alone. Crystal wasn't sure what she had expected to come through the door but it y hadn't been a blood sucker. The scent of death with a tint of iron filled the dragon's nostrils as she inhaled, eyes fixed on the predatorial creature before her. The canines reaffirming the smell. The cold, hard posturing solidifying it. 

It had been a while since she'd come face to face with a vampire: a first to be alone with one. 

With an exhale of breath Crystal managed to relax her muscles which had unconsciously tensed up at the vampire's arrival. Her body had instinctively known of the threat before her. Humans threatened her about as much as butter flies, but vampires, though humans at one point, were an entirely different story. 

"Can I help you?"

The feeling coming off the hostess was similar to her father's. Perhaps not as old but definitely old. Older than herself, certainly. That same sense of smallness nestled arrogantly in her stomach for the second time that week.

"I hope so." Crystal strolled over to the bar, her gate purposefully swift and naturally deadly. Her mind swirled to remember if there were any formalities among vampiric societies. Ah fuck it. She'd never done that well her etiquette classes anyways. The dragon grinned, showing her own primordial canines to coincide with the vampire's own. "Can I get a Fireball?"

Spoiler

LOL get it? Fireball?? Get it?? Huh, huh, HUH??????!!

 

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Jackson yelled, louder this time, for a drink. The waiter was a vampire, but he didn't give Richard the Third's arse about who she was, he just wanted a drink. As long as she had booze he was satisfied. "Gimme a god damn bevvy or I'll shoot yer arse in!" he yelled. If this waiter hauled as much brains as she did bosum, she's get him a drink fast. He scowled and waited.

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13 minutes ago, Sphynx said:

Jackson yelled, louder this time, for a drink. The waiter was a vampire, but he didn't give Richard the Third's arse about who she was, he just wanted a drink. As long as she had booze he was satisfied. "Gimme a god damn bevvy or I'll shoot yer arse in!" he yelled. If this waiter hauled as much brains as she did bosum, she's get him a drink fast. He scowled and waited.

Ooc: Please don't break post order, I'll be replying tonight.

Edited by Viice

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Valkyrie pours the fireball whiskey into a short, clean glass and slides it forward towards the dragoness. 

"Gimme a god damn bevvy or I'll shoot yer arse in!"

She then pulls a second glass from under the counter, tilting her head thoughtfully as she pours the same beverage into it -- fireball whiskey -- and finally makes eye contact with he man on the couch. 

rfuUEiw.jpg

Lifting the glass to her lips slowly, she throws it back, then slams the glass on the counter so hard it threatens to shatter in her fist. 

"You must be lost."

Releasing the glass, she leans forward onto her arms, leaning in his direction and lacing her tone with mock-pleasantry.

"This tavern doesn't service disrespect. You're welcome to try again, but only once, so make it count." 

The man is held contemptuously in her red-black gaze. 

 

 

 

 

23 hours ago, Sphynx said:
On 12/25/2016 at 2:35 PM, Ataraxy said:

 

Spoiler

LOL get it? Fireball?? Get it?? Huh, huh, HUH??????!!

 

 

 

Edited by Viice

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Jackson stood up, cracking his knuckles and spitting on the ground next to him. "Make me," he said, his gruff British accent cutting the air like his best knife. This lady clearly didn't know who she was dealing with. Jackson Oliver Crawtervane, leader of The Bleeders, the largest gang in Terrenus. He had earned their respect. Just as he had earned the fear of so many others. She would know his strength. And she would give in to it. Like everyone else.

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