[This thread is an exercise. The concept is that all of our characters will be in the same bar. Each of the characters is there looking for something of their own desire. The player will write their intro, wait a bit for others to come in and then write an exit. Everyone comes away empty handed as hey, I am not the GM. I have a strong personal desire to do this being that this is my first PbP experience. Any comments about inadequacies in my most are welcome by PM. Again, I hope that Keren does not kill me]

The Spirit Focus, January 2nd, 22:00

A thin Ork wearing a two year out of date Urban Explorer Jumpsuit enters The Spirit Focus and cannot be missed. Not only horribly out of date his lime green Mohawk isn't jazzy. Perhaps he got lost on his way to the Crusher 495? The Mohawk serves another purpose, it conceals a horn. Ain't no Ork at all Chummer, just a tiny troll or a troll wannabee. After slowly walking up to the bar the punker order a specific bourbon and watches the bartender as she gets the bottle from the mirrored shelves.

*sigh* "I take it that Rizz hasn't been in yet?"
In perfect trid Orb remembers the SMG burst that hit Rizz in the neck during the New Years Eve Brawl
"Dammit! If he isn't back to himself in two days there goes the whole season."

The bartender shakes her head and looks slightly down.

"He took a hell of a hit last match. I was hoping to buy him one."
...silence

"Mind if I hang out in a corner for a while? I won't bother any of your regulars, you know that."

The bartender shrugs and gestures towards a table near the rear exit.

Orb slinks over the the darkest seat at the table and sits quietly as he examines every Troll that enters the bar.

The Spirit Focus, January 2, 22:10

(It must be the night for Trolls here. )
A moderate size, squarely-built Troll walks in. Brown lined coat. Black hair. Red shirt, Maroon slacks. Black lace-up boots, looking vaguely military. Wide belt with large buckle. There is a fairly large knife hanging on the side of the belt. On the other side, there appear to be a set of smaller knives.
Mach's horns are quite noticeable, and somewhat asymmetric, with the left one bent somewhat forward.

Upon stepping into the bar, Mach moves to the side of the doorway, and looks around. After a pause, he walks up to the bar.

"Anything special in the beer department?"

The bartender looks slightly puzzled, as this is not an extravagant bar, and says "no, but folks like what we have", and gestures (probably to emphasise the ARO that lists what is available.)

Mach orders a large beer, then moves around to the end of the bar, where he leans against the wall and drinks. As time goes buy, he also orders a snack. Those paying attention notice he does tip the bartender each time, but not excessively. (Anyone that observant will have also noticed the earbuds he is wearing.

A young Ork girl feels the wind on her shoulder as she opens the door. The lights shift and dim periodically over different sections of the bar. The bathroom door hangs a moment before swinging closed. The young Amerindian exiting the john reaches into his pocket to find a pleasant surprise.

"Sloppy, Sloppy tonight" thinks Shadow. A smile breaks on his face far brighter than his half closed, dazzled eyes. He knows he is giddy. This little something, the little something in the sink, is something new. Walking from the ceiling down the mirror to get a better view, Shadow squints his eyes, using mental tweezers to reach into the drain relief and retrieve a small baggie. Who would suspect him of conducting a completely Mundane deal in a place like this? Crouched on the ceiling, he waits for the door to open. Isnt anyone drinking? Was it a bunch of Iron-bladdered trolls out there? Time to get home with his prize already. Stupid Jimmy's Mom. If she would just let him go out on his own or choose his friends then Shadow would be free, in bliss instead of stuck in a bioboarded bathroom with no way out except to break obfuscation. Such thoughts are wasteful. One dose of Bliss later Shadow has a plan.

Whispers mingle with the hiss of running water in a stall. As soon as Jimmy's Mom is safely out of sight, the illusion of a slight elf in a gray hoodie enters the bar and proceeds directly to the bathroom. On his way out he steals a cheap feel from that hot Ork girl, along with the contents of her glass.

The Spirit Focus, January 2nd, 22:20

The bar's door opens again, this time admitting a beautiful elf woman. She seems to glow with perspiration, and her skin is flushed with both health, and for the moment, very recent exertion. Her clothing seems to agree with the assessment, a pair of black tights that do nothing to hide her athletic form, and a sports bra visible under a sleeveless royal-blue silk shirt. The woman's raven black pony-tail bobs as she looks around the bar possibly for someone that she was suppoused to be meeting. The woman taps her hand on an over the shoulder bag that has a jacket tucked over it before she heads over to the bar.

"Have any Rosenwood?" she asks, naming a popular Elven Wine out of the nearby elven nation, " '68 or earlier preffered."

Once she'd paid for the bottle, Jordan headed to the corner with the best view of the rest of the bar. Taking a seat in a both, she lounged indolently looking for all the world like a hunting cat taking her ease, watching the activity around her as she lazed, sipping her wine.

Bigsby Wolf
The Spirit Focus, One Nippy Winter Evening

An attractive couple has been sitting at the end of the bar for quite a spell. The male is a fairly unimposing human wearing a pair of old jeans, a black t-shirt, and a leather harness with a light pistol secured snuggly in its holster. A set of dog tags dangle lifelessly from his neck. His friend is an absolutely stunning elf wearing a denim jacket, beige khakis, and work boots. Her fiery red hair has got to be a custom job as that shade of red does not exist in nature. She appears to be completely unarmed, though it's hard to tell for sure in this day and age.

After giving a bottle of wine to another elf, the bartender makes her way to the pair who are currently lost in a quiet conversation. Along the way she offers a mischevious look to a rather surly ork. He just grumbles a bit as she passes, but casts a glance at the couple once she reaches them.

"So, can I get you two anything else?"

Coming off the tail-end of a laugh, the human turns to the bartender and brandishes a smile that could melt the panties off a bull dyke. It doesn't go unnoticed. "Why thank you, darling," he replies in a softly-accented voice, "I do believe we're due for another round of your finest."

"I'm impressed," the bartender grins while trying desperately to hide a genuine blush. She pulls out a jug labeled Orkstaff XXX from under the bar. "That's your fourth round and you don't look so much as buzzed. We only see that from the trogs round here, and even then the tuskers would be tottering in their seats by now." The ork huffs when he overhears that and turns his full attention to the breeder and keeb.

"It's the Irish blood, love. Gonna take more'n a few mugs of hurlg to knock me off my feet. Though I have to admit," he leans in to her as his voice grows softer still, "if you flash me another one of those lovely little smiles of yours, you might just do the trick yourself."

The elf sitting next to him rolls her eyes before slapping the wolfish flirt upside the head. "Bigsby, down! That's a bad Bigsby!"

He gives the nobilis a wounded 'wtf?' look before resuming his previous posture. "I know you did not just do that, Bel." Cockblocked by his best friend. The nerve!

"Maybe if you'd stop hounding every woman you came across, I wouldn't have to." She does a remarkable job of stifling a giggle herself.

The human just stares daggers at her for a moment before shrugging and taking a deep swig of his drink. "Fair enough." He gives a slight twinge as the burning liquid takes its vengeance upon his innards. By the time he places the mug back on the bar, however, he appears wholly unphased by the experience.

The bartender laughs before sliding the jug back from whence it came. "You let me know if you need anything else, sugar," she winks then wanders back down the counter. She stops in front of the surly ork and holds her hand out triumphantly. The ork grumbles something in Or'zet before reaching into his pocket and slapping a fistful of corp scrip into her outstretched hand. The dejected look on his face tells it all. She counts up the wager to make sure it's all there then tucks the wad into her ample cleavage with a satisfied smirk.

"So," Belfast begins as the couple's attention returns to one another. "You never said how you're adjusting to life here in the Emerald City. You find a decent place to live yet, or are you still squatting at that dive in Snohomish?"

"Eh, been too busy having fun to stop and find a nice flat, though it's definitely on my to-do list. I gotta say, this place is even crazier'n back home. Too much to see and do that I haven't even had a chance to follow up on any of Shamus's jobs yet."

"Well you know you always have a place back at the Pig."

"Ugh, don't mention pigs. Those guys have been total arseholes lately. Christ, I converted to Judaism to shut them up about the pork thing, and they still keep harping on about it." Bigsby grumbles and takes another drink which instantly repairs his mood. "Besides, I just need to earn a honest day's work then it won't be an issue. Plus I kinda like it out there; nice and quiet, relatively speaking, and I can be myself when the need strikes me. But thanks for offering anyway, doll."

Belfast nearly chokes on her drink. "Wait. An 'honest days work.' You? Oh, that's bloody rich! Haven't you committed every crime known to man?"

"Oy! I'll have you know that I've never once violated any agricultural quarantine laws."

"What about that apple you tried to smuggle onto the plane?"

Bigsby pauses to pout. "Dammit. Okay, you may be on to something. But fook me if that wasn't the tastiest apple I've ever had. I think the villainy of it made it all the sweeter."

Bel laughs then finishes off her mug. She seems to be even less phased by foul concoction than her buddy was. "Well, you take care of yourself, boy." She takes a look at her watch and wrinkles her nose. "I need to head back to the Underground before CuChulainn starts to worry. You know how his OCD gets if his schedule gets wonky."

She reaches for her commlink to pay for the drinks, but Bigsby stops her before she gets the chance. "Now you know better'n that, love. And give Cookie my regards. Tell him that he still owes me a rematch the next time I'm down there. I've been practicing, so he's totally going down this time around."

The woman smiles and reaches over to tousle his hair lovingly. "I will. Try to stay out of trouble, neh?" Bigsby's only reply is a dismissive flourish of the hand and a returned smile.

With that, the redhead slides off her stool. She pauses long enough to grab a leather longcoat off the hook by the door and waves at her old friend. After she leaves, Bigsby takes his mug and spins around in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter's padded edge. Not having anything to do in the immediate future, he decides to just sit back and people watch for a while. Who knows, maybe something interesting will happen?

Looking distinctly out of place, a young girl no more than fifteen or so walks in through the doors of the Spirit Focus. Besides her age, her short pure white hair and bright red eyes make her stand out from others. She takes a glance around before making her way over to the bar.

Some of her hair has been put up into a side ponytail, held in place with a large black ribbon. She wears two tank tops with spaghetti straps, the larger black one underneath the somewhat smaller white one, with neither being going low enough to cover her midriff beyond a few inches above her belly-button. The shirts don't provide any view of what cleavage her small chest might provide, but the black very nearly does, and the white would if not for the black. A thin leather strip acts as necklace for a cross pendent that she wears around her neck, the silver glinting where it rests on her chest, just below the collar bone.

On one wrist she wears two bracelets that look to be made of short belts, and on her right arm she wears a detached sleeve of red and black stripes, leaving her upper arms and shoulders bare. An over sized red belt holds up her black miniskirt just as high as it needs to be, and the skirt just as long as it needs to be. The thin black straps of her panties can just be seen above her belt from either side. Hanging from either hip of her belt, is a short strait black sheath of sorts, looking like it holds a flashlight or some similar object.

Black and red striped thighhighs match her sleeve, and leave several inches of leg between thighhigh and miniskirt exposed. Finally she wears large black boots that reach more than halfway up her calves with white laces going the whole way up, but not seeming to hold the boot tight to her leg.

She climbs into on one of the stools and sits facing away from the bar. She leans forward a bit as she looks at each person in the bar in turn, not quite like she is looking for someone she knows, but perhaps someone of a particular description.

The bartender frowns as she passes the girl, seeming to want to say something, perhaps about being too young to be in the bar, or perhaps that she needs to order something if she is going to take up a stool. She decides against it though, and I for the most part ignored by the girl as she continues to look over each patron in turn, none spared at least a few moments of her red eyed gaze.

Mach looks around the bar, drinking his second beer.
This place is much more varied than I expected.

As he looks around, he notices the guy in the corner with the hair. On a second look, Mach smiles and shakes his head. When the bartender comes by, he gestures at the table, and upon receiving an answers shrugs. After thinking for a moment, he orders something. A minute or so later a beer is sent to Orb's table.

OOC I have no idea if there is a Color or Style for my Avatar/Persona actions. Thus, I am using brackets

Uhh, who the frag would send me a beer? She just talked to that troll...
" Excuse me. The beer was sent by the gentleman over there, yes?"
"Yeap. He one of the players?"
"Not on this years roster. Probably just another fan."

Orb takes a good look at the other Troll.
[Threads up simrig]
[Records image into threaded simrig, storing data in his left sock]
[Performs a Data Browse to determine if it matches any Brawler, Past or Present]
[Drops the simrig and the data]
Orb nods to the fine gentlemen across the way.

Drek. What if its a talent scout? What if they are about to extract me and make me play for Miami. Ain't no Fragging way I will Brawl for Miami.

[Orb Threads up a pair of SMG's for his Persona. As he draws them they gleam just like its Brawler Armor.]

Can't risk shooting anyone here and getting suspended... Drek Drek don't panic. You are at the door Orb. Keep the Overclocking on full and bolt the moment anything moves at you.

Orb sips the beer and smiles slightly and then puts on plain face.

Son of a Slitch! Dude sent me a regular sized beer and he has a large on for himself. What the Frag is that supposed to say? huh? Frag it, its a free beer!

Josip Norig:
The Spirit Focus, January 2nd 22:20

An extremely large ork opens the door, letting in a blast of cold air. Probably past 7', his head almost touches the door frame as he walks in. He moves with a sinuous grace that seems out of place for someone so big. His large coat is covered in tiny snowflakes.

He tromps over to the bar. "It's started snowin', an' I'm cold. Gimme a triple whiskey. I wanna be so full of alchohol that I'm poisonous to look at." His blue-gray eyes take in the establishment, and he grunts again. "It's a lil' crowded, neh? This busy all the time?" He leaves the bar and sits down in a seat with his whiskey, back to a wall, apparently watching the game on the trid. His eyes flit back down to the patrons every so often, but he seems intent on something else, maybe lost in thought.

"Bloody hell," Bigsby thinks to himself while leaning against the bar, "you'd think there'd be more shite going down in a place this packed. Lame." He takes one last swig of rotgut before reaching around and setting the empty mug down. When the bartender comes over to refill it, he waves her off with a light smile. "S'alright doll, I think I've had my fill for the night."

"Of course. You just let me know if you change your mind, hun." She turns and saunters off, adding a little extra wiggle along the way. It definitely doesn't go unnoticed and Bigsby's smile turns into a full-fledged grin. "Hmm, maybe not a total bust afterall. Looks like I might just have a warm bed for the night..."

When he finally manages to break his eyes away, the Irishman reaches for a bowl of mixed nuts. He turns back around just in time to see a young girl walk in into the bar. As if on cue, some old song he's only ever heard once before begins to play in the back of his mind. He watches her with a curious look as she makes her way over, the sheer amount of red in her wardrobe fueling the curiosity.

Who's that I see walkin' in these woods?
Why, it's little Red Riding Hood...

Instantly dubbing her Red, his eyes never leave her form as she makes her way over. The curiosity slowly mutates into a hint of concern when he notices everyone seemingly ignoring her presence. But whatever concerns he had are washed away with relief when he catches the bartender acknowledging her, albeit it with disgust. Or maybe it was something else? Either way: Phew. The last thing he needed in his life was yet another one of those damn fables coming to life.

Hey there Little Red Riding Hood,
You sure are looking good.
You're everything a Big Bad Wolf could want... Owoooo!

When Bigsby feels Red's burning eyes on him, he turns back around on his stool and offers his most charming smile while putting himself on full display for her. He takes the opportunity to size her up himself by drinking deeply of her aura. Curiouser and curiouser. If she's just an innocent little girl, he's the fookin' Pope. He takes more time than was needed to make the full 180-degree spin, but all the while he spoke volumes with his precisely articulated body language.

What big eyes you have,
The kind of eyes that drive wolves mad.
So just to see that you don't get chased,
I think I ought to walk with you for a ways.

Once he's facing the bar again, he flags the bartender over. "I reconsidered afterall. Hit me up with two shots of Goose."

She eyes the young girl suspiciously before turning back to Bigsby with some doubt. But when she meets his gaze, those doubts are all washed away. "Sure thing, sugar." After filling the order, she again glances at the girl but wanders off without saying a word.

What full lips you have,
They're sure to lure someone bad.
So until you get to Grandma's place,
I think you ought to walk with me and be safe.

Without looking at Red directly, Bigsby takes one of the glasses and overstretches himself as he slides it in front of her. "No obligations, love. You just looked like a girl who could use a drink."

Downing his own shot, he again picks up the bowl and spins back around. He pops a pistachio in the air and catches it between his teeth before settling into a comfortable position. A brief moment passes before his brow furrows in a sincere look of remorse. He turns slightly and offers the bowl to the girl. "Care for a nut?" If a sly smirk was to be found, it was hiding remarkably well beneath a veil of innocence.

I'm gonna keep my sheep suit on
Until I'm sure that you've been shown
That I can be trusted walking with you alone.
Owoooo! I mean baaaah! Baaah?

The girl smiles at Bigsby as he slides her the drink. She picks it up, then stands on the ring of the stool, then steps over to the one right next to Bigsby, sitting herself down again. "Don't think I'm too young for something like this?" she asks him with a bit of a wink. Though she holds the drink in her hand, she still hasn't had any of it.

She looks down at the nuts she is offered, and shakes her head "No, not the kind of nuts I like." She turns in her seat to face Bigsby more directly, her own look innocent enough as well as she sets the drink down on the counter, still untouched. "I don't get asked to drink all that often." she lies as smoothly as silk, now resting an elbow on the counter and propping a slightly tilted head on her hand.

"Not trying to get me drunk and take advantage of a young girl, are you." she says teasingly, a small giggle following her words as she waits for a response to her questions.

Her eyes no longer search the bar, instead she has her attention on the man sitting next to her. Perhaps she has found what she was looking for...

Moses Kennedy
The Spirit Focus

Walking in with a tophat in his hand, shiny glimmers of metal frosted by the chill outside, Moses scans the crowd and proceeds to the bar. The Victorian-esque clothing with the appropriate "steampunk" trappings clink mildly. To a knowing eye some of those fashionable nobs and accoutrements look far more functional than they should.

"Gimme an ale, will you?" Moses mutters. The chill outside seems to have gotten to him, a bit shaken perhaps. It wasn't that cold outside, yet he shook every now and then. It's almost as if he was crashing from an adrenaline rush. A tang of gunpowder wafts around him and he downs half the drink in one gulp.

Nodding his thanks he orders up another and sets himself down on a stool with a view to the front door and the rear exit. He sets his tophat on the bar, just to his side.

For those that bother to look, they see a tanned human male, closely cropped hair and beard but lacking a mustache. There seems to be some sweat on his brow and his breathing is only calming down now. His eyes, however, are chrome in every sense of the word. Pools of glossy silver stare back whenever someone makes eye contact.

Unnoticed, a small, metallic insect darts from wall to wall, assessing those nearby.