An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 9, 2016 23:02:40 GMT -8
*The sky darkens for a stretch as several landing craft enter from orbit & land by the Mortus. All pile out & take up positions as regular & in kind the old man returned to the bar, his granddaughter in toe. Not failing to slap Winchester upside the head in passing by a bottle of whiskey was placed in the hands of An Tiarna. He noticed the merc still sitting at the pub. Scratched his head the old man pondered why exactly she came to Manaan. She had yet to enter the conversation in a remotely engaging way*
'How goes it Phyllis?
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 9, 2016 23:18:42 GMT -8
*Mórrígan walked up quietly, slapping a stack of books down at the table where Lillith and Adi now sat. Taking a chair she sat at a close yet comfortable distance from the pair, back to the wall arms loose. Scarcely had her posterior touched the cushion a chocolate milk was in her hand*
Go raibh maith agat!
*With a casual yet uncold nod to Lillith and Adi she sat back looking at the literature. My how some people liked to think.... It crossed her mind how few knew how her brain worked. Mórrígan knew Adi certainly understood. Smiling she tossed a mental kick in the nads at him. So many, oft fatally underestimated her.... She nursed her drink and strummed through the manuscripts from Tython mind in full swing again . Let us see just where thought takes us today....*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 1:46:17 GMT -8
*An Tiarna sat nursing his drink eyes down. Collecting his thoughts & trying to form them into something legible at last looking up just allowed the words to fall freely off his lips*
I am... thinking - yes I realize many might find that funny. But those of an sense higher than that of a barnyard rat would know that is no joke at all.
*Brows dropping & voice suddenly low yet clear he spat out a word scarce few would think from his mouth one would ever hear*
'Retirement....'
*Leaving the word hang in the air some agonizingly long second he continued*
'As much as I may scream to the high heavens about every problem this life brings on me that never seemed a reality..... but..... Now it seems more & more tangible with each passing day....'
*Clearing his throat*
'I must set in stone what will happen if I go that route..... Much like writing a will....
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 2:08:30 GMT -8
*Mórrígan still toyed with her books in a manner that made it seem that she was paying no attention to a thing happening let alone being said. Yet any knew her would be keenly aware that nothing in the vicinity slipped by her minds eye. Most of the thoughts scarcely phased the young woman; people tended to hold mighty high opinions of themselves from what she read but one thing that struck her was no weak willed thought or idle talk. She could not stomach people who were fast to criticize. And by that she did not mean An Tiarna, who scorched everything yet respected as no man could. The Old Man was crazy like a fox. And all this flashed by in but microseconds; one simple word and all things wrapped around it threw everything else from her mind. Retirement*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 3:22:42 GMT -8
*Slamming a shot back then with a nod at the young lady spoke*
'We'll go for a walk soon.... Some things you need to hear. If I have nothing preoccupying me, which I won't.'
*Hand flashing out caressing her cheek*
'No worry... & no waterworks led do thoill.'
*Face all serious again; voice hard*
Practically been throwing wars in your face lady & all you seem to do is sit there dodging... then start talking about war..... Maith go leor! Slan!'
*If the final words spoken were unfamiliar the gestures, although quite polite were very clear: 'if you seem so put off being on Manaan why stay?' He sat back awaiting a response*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 4:40:29 GMT -8
'Here's another one.... Ever get the eerie feeling sitting here on this bloody Cyber-Reality Island that you're as naked as the day you were born?'
*Brows raise & head bobs as he stands to his feet immediately headbutting the nearest Togorian. Head split open & oozing blood the ancient sits again taking his drink. Hand wiping the blood from chin over his forehead head looked at the rest of the table, whites of eyes a ghastly contrast with the red blood caking hair like stylists jel calmly asks. Others luckily are attending to the now rendered unconscious drooling Tog*
'Do I look alright?'
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Lillith
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Post by Lillith on Jan 10, 2016 10:25:50 GMT -8
"Skylar Winchester. Nice to make your acquaintence, Captain. I have known him for a very long time. Former in-law, to be exact. I was here to pay my respects to an old friend. That's his pyre over there." Skylar turned towards the now-subsiding flames of the pyre of Dace Concordia, and pointed it out. Not like it wasn't obvious that it was a funeral pyre, but still....he felt it needed a -little- explanation. Taking a sip off the beer, he lit a smoke, offering one to Lillith."He's a bit eccentric, to say the least. I have a lot of respect for him...he's been a pretty solid advisor, and has pulled my ass out of the frying pan a few times." He poured another shot into each glass, and tossed his back. It was good to see the woman relaxing a little bit...life didn't have to be serious all the time."So, what brings -you- to Manaan, Captain?" Skylar was kind of hoping that she didn't recognize him. They had never met, not face-to-face, at least. But when he was in command of L'Ange Noire, Zik Kine had spent some time with this woman. It wasn't so much that he cared about that....
...He just didn't want her to report back to -anyone- having to do with Honoghr, or the Jedi, that he had been seen.
"The warrior king's broadcast, what else? My fleet grows restless with escorting merchants and putting down ragtag pirate bands; if An Tiarna truly means to wage a war of the scale he implies, then perhaps with him we will find the true battle we seek." Her mouth turned down in a frown. "Though negotiating thus far has been...frustrating, to say the least. Perhaps he will be more amenable to talk when he has slaked whatever bloodlust drove him from our company."
By some circumstance of fate or serendipity, it was at that moment that An Tiarna and his consort returned to the Mortus. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. It seemed they'd been gone only a few minutes. After a confused glance at her chronometer, the Echani shrugged and tossed back the second shot that Skylar placed before her, more accustomed to the fiery path it traced down her gullet this time around.
"My name is Lillith," she said quietly, without looking up from her drink. "I still await your response, An Tiarna. Do you wish to hire me, or not?"
Whether it would be viewed as insolence to the warrior king or not no longer concerned her. She'd wasted enough time listening to his manic, fumbling rhetoric. Perhaps the alcohol had lowered her inhibitions to a dangerous level, but that as well no longer concerned her. Patience had never been one of her strong suits, and if the man could not be reasoned with, then it was high time she was on her way. |
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 11:00:19 GMT -8
*Slipping ever so effortlessly to the back with a yawn she slipped an shining object from her side* |
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An Tiarna Dubh
Member
Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 11:20:30 GMT -8
*Looking blankly at the woman, who by now he believed that to get her through a door one would need grease her head first in order to kick it through the doorway. . At her final words a giant hand flew up straight across her face. Standing with a backstep & body relaxed he asked in a low tone*
'Gabh mo leithsceal ~ Excuse me?'
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Lillith
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Post by Lillith on Jan 10, 2016 12:02:13 GMT -8
She didn't bother trying to avoid the strike. In the end, a slap in the face was of little consequence. His strength was impressive, though not unexpected- one look at the man's obscenely long arms, coiled lengths of solid muscle told her that. The blow snapped her head to the side and split her bottom lip. She didn't move as An Tiarna stood, obviously preparing for some kind of counterattack. Instead she chuckled, one hand rising to wipe a thread of blood from her mouth.
"It seems I have my answer." she murmured, pale eyes narrowed.
A long moment passed, and then the Echani stood, picked up her half-finished beer, and headed towards the Mortus' exit. Her force senses remained open, questing for any hint of danger from An Tiarna or the woman who followed him, as she strode through the bar. While she didn't expect him to make another move, he also didn't seem entirely stable, and you never could tell. If he did, she had both her blaster pistol and her lightsaber on her belt, but even if she were to triumph in a fight over him, the woman, and perhaps Skylar, she would no doubt be quickly cut down by the IF's military before she made it out of Manaan's atmosphere.
Only one way to find out.
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Lord Magus
The Vegemite Enclave
Fág an Bealach- Clear the way
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Post by Lord Magus on Jan 10, 2016 12:04:00 GMT -8
Cormac sat at the bar, watching all that was transpiring. He turned back to the Selkath barkeep, and held up two fingers
"Beoir agus uisce beatha."
The selkath nodded and pulled a pint, then poured a shot of whiskey for the white haired warrior, who looked back at the mouthy woman.
"Go raibh maith agat."
He threw back the whole shot, then started to sip the pint a his king father struck the woman.
"Easy da, your blood pressure. She meant nothing by it, I'm sure."
He looked at the woman with his strangely colored eyes, he reached out with the force to taste her aura, and detected only understandable impatience and a bit of the drink for color.
"Isn't that right a chara?"
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 12:16:38 GMT -8
"Now that woman's jaw is most impressive indeed. Let her fly away; an SSD would bounce off her.... Back to reality... we have business to discuss."
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
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Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 18:16:03 GMT -8
*Looking around at the near empty room he took a seat. A bottle of whiskey & two pints of Guinness were set on the table he sat looking around unmoved*
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Doctor Nick
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Post by Doctor Nick on Jan 10, 2016 18:24:08 GMT -8
*Dr Nick, sitting at the back of the pub, obviously half cut and very likely about to perform some form of surgery in which the patients life depended on a very sober mind... & hands smiled with huge white shiny teeth waving at An Tiarna*
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 10, 2016 18:29:45 GMT -8
*Still in her dark corner the girl waited toying with her IF dagger and occasionally strumming the texts on the table. What she had read thus far did not leave her in any way comfortable but that had nothing to do with literature. A barkeep brought another glass of wine with a bottle in ice. Her face was as if wood and eyes icy as she now literally breathing mist into the chilled environment that enveloped her. The universe around her was indeed in many ways now very dead. She effortlessly in a swift motion snatched the hair atop a man sitting in front of her and stuck the blade every so smoothly between two vertebrae straight through the windpipe finally jutting out the other side. Slipping it gracefully back out she let go of the man's hair letting him drop to the floor, convulsing, air squeaking as it left the open windpipe and blood gushing into a pool around him. Wipping the blade on eher skirt she resheathed it smoothly and went back to her drink*
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An Tiarna Dubh
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Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 11, 2016 8:17:33 GMT -8
*Watching his granddaughter with a blank stare muttered to himself*
"What in the name of all that is holy did I aid to create? & how much will the late fees on those books from that Whill-billies library run us? Ahhh... well, we'll just stiff them for the books & bomb the bloody place again...."
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 11, 2016 11:56:41 GMT -8
*Pitching a bottle over shoulder and but a snap of the fingers has another at the table*
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An Tiarna Dubh
Member
Is minic a bhris beál duine a shrón ~ It is often that a person's mouth broke his nose
Posts: 841
Affiliation: Are you joking? the IF
Traffic Light: Green
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Post by An Tiarna Dubh on Jan 11, 2016 12:06:55 GMT -8
'Those with us now take a seat & get comfortable; I will talk when all are here....'
*The old man sat back quiet in a dark corner, eyes slowly canvassing the room. Drink in one hand; cigarette in the other smoke rose up around him as he patiently waited. The Hurricane played low in the background; the tune of a master of pugilism dishonored & shamefully treated spoke volumes of the ancient warrior's experience in this universe*
Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night
Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall.
She sees the bartender in a pool of blood,
Cries out, "My God, they killed them all!"
Here comes the story of the Hurricane,
The man the authorities came to blame
For somethin' that he never done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see
And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously.
"I didn't do it," he says, and he throws up his hands
"I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand.
I saw them leavin'," he says, and he stops
"One of us had better call up the cops."
And so Patty calls the cops
And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin'
In the hot New Jersey night.
Meanwhile, far away in another part of town
Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around.
Number one contender for the middleweight crown
Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down
When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road
Just like the time before and the time before that.
In Paterson that's just the way things go.
If you're black you might as well not show up on the street
'Less you want to draw the heat.
Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops.
Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around
He said, "I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights
They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates."
And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head.
Cop said, "Wait a minute, boys, this one's not dead"
So they took him to the infirmary
And though this man could hardly see
They told him that he could identify the guilty men.
Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in,
Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs.
The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye
Says, "Wha'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy!"
Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane,
The man the authorities came to blame
For somethin' that he never done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
Four months later, the ghettos are in flame,
Rubin's in South America, fightin' for his name
While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game
And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame.
"Remember that murder that happened in a bar?"
"Remember you said you saw the getaway car?"
"You think you'd like to play ball with the law?"
"Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?"
"Don't forget that you are white."
Arthur Dexter Bradley said, "I'm really not sure."
Cops said, "A poor boy like you could use a break
We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello
Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow.
You'll be doin' society a favor.
That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver.
We want to put his ass in stir
We want to pin this triple murder on him
He ain't no Gentleman Jim."
Rubin could take a man out with just one punch
But he never did like to talk about it all that much.
It's my work, he'd say, and I do it for pay
And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way
Up to some paradise
Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice
And ride a horse along a trail.
But then they took him to the jailhouse
Where they trialed a man into a mouse.
All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance
The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance.
The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums
To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum
And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger.
No one doubted that he pulled the trigger.
And though they could not produce the gun,
The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed
And the all-white jury agreed.
Rubin Carter was falsely tried.
The crime was murder "one," guess who testified?
Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied
And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride.
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool's hand?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land
Where justice is a game.
Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell.
That's the story of the Hurricane,
But it won't be over till they clear his name
And give him back the time he's done.
Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
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Mórrígan Dubh
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Affiliation: Óglaigh na Iarndóideanna – Warriors of the Iron Fists
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Post by Mórrígan Dubh on Jan 11, 2016 15:58:26 GMT -8
*Mórrígan sat calmly smoking a cigarette. The body had been quietly dragged out the back door leaving yet another bloodstain on the Mortus floor like the last body and the body before. Business as usual with the IF. The things that happened behind closed doors at the Mortus were the things of legend that haunted the universe wide.... "now where will we put the bodies this time?" She remembered hearing that literally thousands of times. Such was life growing up among the Iron Fists*
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Luca
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I am honored and grateful that you have invited me to your daughter's wedding....
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Post by Luca on Jan 11, 2016 17:05:38 GMT -8
*Luca gently opening the door quietly entered the Mortus. Stare set straight ahead belied eyes instinctively casing out the entire room, probing high and low over every inch of the bar. Hand slipped under trench coat casually unclipping the holster at his side. The massive man sat down in a dark corner near An Tiarna and said nothing. A drink was set at the table he nodded lightly*
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