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  1. Yesterday
  2. Royals & Rebels [jcink]

    NO WORD COUNT - PREMIUM JCINK - CHARACTER DRIVEN - HISTORICAL --ENTER--
  3. Last week
  4. *claws her way out from under Life's tyrannical boot*

     

    1. Zeph

      Zeph

      steals her and ties up in the site couch!

  5. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    lol no worries. I understand Branden isn't the most powerful individual, wasn't trying to make him so, but I do think if they heard Branden did something with his power there might be some confusion between the two, as in who did it. Perhaps the police might want to question Branden about illegal activities done by others with abilities that might on the surface seem similar. Bakkhos might at first get it confused too and give someone else the credit or blame for it. Either way I was trying to let the three JP's he is in play out a bit more before trying to get Branden in any further trouble. I really don't know where any of them are going right now.
  6. Naruto AU Roleplay

    Ninpocho Chronicles is a non-canon Naruto roleplay where great minds come to write incredible stories that will be told for ages. Harboring a friendly environment for new people to come in and get started with roleplay, Ninpocho is great for people of all levels of writing skills. If you don't feel comfortable with your roleplaying, it is fine! We have people here that will gladly take you under their wing and help you with what you wish to do. Decade Old Community: Our site has lasted over a decade, with original members still around, you won’t have to worry about our site going down or losing any of your roleplay. Come make long lasting story lines that you’ll have a blast writing with us. A Completed Battle System: to serve all your PVE and PVP needs: • 800+ Jutsu ranging from devastating ninjutsu to dastardly puppets! • 32 different type of Ninjutsu releases, ranging from Poison to Sound. • You can be a Jinchuriki, have the Rinnegan, Mangekyo, be a Human Puppet and more. • 40 different Bloodlines and Core Abilities, to really make your character unique. • 20 unique contract summons to aid you in your adventures. • Nearly everything is re-skinnable to suit your style. Active Staff: Tired of sites where it can take days for anything to get done? Most, if not all issues are resolved in a day or less, allowing you to spend less time dealing with OOC and more time roleplaying. Active Discord: Not sure if you want to join? Stop by our discord and come speak with the community. There are plenty of people to get to know and friends to be made, we pride ourselves on not only providing a great platform to roleplay, but a fun place to talk with friends. Absolutely No Pay To Win: All members of our community are equal, never expect to have to spend a cent to gain anything on the site. Events: Each village hosts their own exciting events that impact the future of their people. Fighting massive Sandwyrms all the way to crooked Daimyos plotting to take over the world. Ninpocho chronicles has it all.
  7. Birth of the Underground Network

    Control was a funny thing. The boatman had been correct in that the power had been carefully controlled, plants bending to his exact commands. But the anger that had fed it had surged without his permission. As they both ended up flattened on the deck of the boat he caught the amused eye roll and could only broaden his own smile in return as the chuckle bubbled rich in his chest. Wet and flattened out on the deck of a boat was not exactly what he had planned for the day. You are the right man. You know this to be true. “No I’m not.” You are. It was said with confidence as the boatman rolled to his feel, the elf rolling fully up into a seated position, bare feet pulled up flat in front of him as his arms lightly draped over the raised knees. The man was agile, nimble on his feet. If that had not already been demonstrated, it was clearly evident as he maneuvered on the rails of his ship. “And if I’m ripped from this world tomorrow, what happens to them then? Same thing that happened to those I was responsible for in my own. Leaderless death.” When that time comes... I will find another leader. Quiet words betrayed an understanding and respect. This boatman was more than a mere sailor. Another place, another time, he had been someone that might have been doing what the elf was doing now. Hand placed on the ground beside himself to deftly push up to his own feet in the fluid motion of reeds on the wind. “I wouldn’t have let you drown you know.” Who says I would have drowned? Do I seem so inept on the water? There was a mirth in his tone as he squeezed the front of the transparent silk shirt to get some of the water from its fibers. Eyes flicked up as the man once more went overboard. Water elemental perhaps? “Towels in the apartment if you need them.” Chuckle was soft. Suits and water didn’t really mix, a towel wouldn’t do much at this point. Fingers slid over his shoulder to pull the wild plait forward to wring of its moisture. “Ocean City. Be there a bit after I drop you off. Have to find a new anchor.” Gives you some time to reconsider the request. Hips rested against the rail, arms folding over his chest as the gaze drifted to the horizon, across a vast ocean where he knew their brethren were dying every day. Ha na-ovor na gar-edraith er a rist-estent cín cuil na ceri, i-na edraith-al a guin-nith uir. His natural tongue slid like milk over butterfly wings, the cadence one that didn’t exist in this world. Very roughly translated in this vulgar tongue….. It is better to have saved one and cut short your life to do so, than to save none and live with yourself for all eternity. The eyes were still fixated on the distant horizon before the serious cerulean orbs came once more to rest on the man. I believe you were once the type of man this rung true for.
  8. Not all is what it seems......

    In and out. In, and out. Breathe. Avoid panic. Avoid losing control. Gray eyes closed to focus on the sensation of hearing slowly coming back and his own hand scoured his body for any signs of blood. There was none, but the first thing he heard when his hearing started to return was sirens. Not emergency services though, it was probably the CDC to clean up this entire mess down here. All the blood and the body parts to prevent people from getting contaminated with the virus. Like Gavin might have been. He had never been sloppy enough to go through this process, but there was a first time for everything. Up close and personal generally meant up close and dead, so the soldier generally stood far enough back to where contamination was never an issue. Not today, given that the triple antiviral was still giving him hell. Still on the ground, he turned over and vomited. Mostly spit and water at this point, but vomit nevertheless. The detective was still standing, somehow, so Gavin was more than content to keep lying there until he was eventually dragged off. Unfortunately for him, the men in hazmat suits and bright, wide lights on their helmets weren’t going to assist in getting him up. Unless four eggheads pointing sidearms at him was supposed to be assistance. He briefly considered making a fight out of it, but the headlights on their damned helmets would make it difficult at best. Even though he couldn’t see their body types, their movements told him all he needed to know. Fucking civilians making sharp, jerky movements in accordance to whatever stupid handbook or two hour training they had on this shit. He didn’t need his powers to kill these fucking animals, but he did need ammo. He couldn’t remember how many shots he fired off at the zombie, but it had to have been at least five. Shaking hands and arms pushed the man’s body up, and as he was being led by the eggheads he worked out an escape plan if it came to that. The CDC men were not disciplined, and did not keep the headlights pointed at him in particular at all times in a way that would prevent him from doing a lot with his power. They left a decent percentage, and at some times a large percentage of shadows nearby and very easily accessible. It would have been so easy to just cut their legs out from under them, especially when he would have had the element of surprise. But he needed to keep his shit together. They had a semi outside, which was… disturbingly fast for an event like this. When exactly was this shit called in again? Two business days was fast for most government agencies, but this was like what, an hour? Two? He was so disoriented with the antiviral he didn’t know, but it seemed suspiciously fast that the damned CDC were here in force so damned quickly. Maybe he should just kill them all and get out. Was that the paranoia talking, or was that just an honest assessment of the situation? If he was completely healthy and focused at that point, he might have just tried fighting his way out. In his current state, however, there was no way he could efficiently make sure that every armed hostile was killed or at least not in a position to shoot and kill him as soon as he started to make a break for it. There was also the fact that there was no way he was running particularly fast or particularly straight at the moment, given that his walk was pretty wobbly as it was. Up the creepy looking stairs and into the truck it was, then. Worst comes to worst he was damned sure he could blow up the damned truck out of spite and at least make sure there was some level of revenge if they didn’t kill him instantly. None of the egghead bastards he had seen were capable of doing that, so at least he had that in his back pocket for now, especially with the complete lack of floodlights. There was a locker on the side, with a voice over some sort of sound system telling them that metal went on one side and clothes on the other. The metal was the first thing that he stuffed in the locker. Extra magazines, his sidearm, and both karambits along with their respective holsters. He also put most of the things in his pockets in the locker, like his phone and radio. For the clothes, he first tossed in his vomit-stained scarf and quickly realized it was in fact an incinerator. There was a noticeable hesitation once that became obvious, mostly because this was the last Irish Army field uniform he still had. If it was the fancier service uniform, he would have rather died than give that up… but since it was ‘just’ the field uniform he was willing to toss it in after roughly thirty seconds of internal debate. Once the decision was made, the contaminated material made its way in the incinerator in short order. Gavin didn’t feel good about it, but he did it and walked into the next area. Darkness was no impediment to his sight, but nevertheless he kept staring straight ahead with his mind was off in space. Old battle scars littered the soldier’s body, mostly old burn markings due to the nature of the conflict in Ireland. Remnants of old gunshot wounds, slashing wounds, and knife wounds also made their mark across his naked form. Lean and muscled, his form was one of someone who was physically active to an extreme but did not go that extra step in making sure their diet was not up to par. When he stepped into the next room, he was not prepared. When the orange liquid shot out and swept the man off his feet and onto the ground shoulder-first, his first instinct was to get the hell out of there. Shadows coalesced and solidified into massive blunt force trauma to the side of the truck. The metal of the side bent noticeably, and some of the hosing mechanisms broke and started spilling the liquid down instead of in a steady stream outwards on the side of the semi next to Gavin. The entire truck shook slightly, and the harsh admonishment coming through the speakers forced the soldier back into reality long enough to not instinctively do it twice to try and bust the side of the truck open. ”I fuckin’ hate civvie pox.” he grumbled to nobody in particular as he forced himself back to his feet as another admonishment over the speakers came out threatening some sort of retaliation if cooperation was not given. Death, Gavin assumed, but attentive hearing to something he didn’t care about while in extreme disorientation and pain was not one of his strong suits. Finally, the stinging orange spray was done and he wobbled into the next room after a small delay. Focus came back unexpectedly, but for the first time in a while he was fully aware of what the Detective was saying to him. This one was just a rinse, but the damned orange stuff was not coming out anytime soon. ”Fantastic.” was the only word that came out of his mouth, slow and enunciated especially clearly. The paranoia and energy of earlier was reduced to just a cold demeanor, with most of his focus now directed at making sure his powers didn’t manifest out of instinct again and get them both killed. In and out. In, and out. Breathe.
  9. The Eclectic Charm

    Her eyes turned to the table; perfectly adequate for the two of them, she decided. She looked over her clothes and could only regret that she'd yet to gain a change, having just dropped into the city; but it was no matter for her anymore; there were more pressing things to think about. She glanced momentarily at his hand, taking her a moment to remember all of the polite things people did when they had four walls and a roof, beaming when the realization finally hit her. Things were just so different than what she was used to... "Thank you..." She mumbled as a response to the gesture. She also brought her bag and slung it under the chair. Sure, some enjoyment for herself was wonderful, but she wasn't going to lose her vigilance for her belongings... yet. She went over to the table, lowering herself into the chair and pulling it in behind her with a grateful nod. "Yes, I believe this one will do just fine." Her eyes drifted to the musician, although distracted by her own situation.
  10. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    Right, I just recall that when reading one, it reminded me of another, ha ha
  11. Tee minus 2 days and counting........

    "Yes, I change day before and after. Moon LOVES me." Huff escaped his lips as he swirled the glass of dark liquid. Well that is inconvenient. Head shook as he lifted his glass slightly at the older man. Sorry… don’t mean anythin' by that. Just dun like the idea of potential lycan in the audience on the edge of out of control on the first night. Sip of the glass was thoughtful as he glanced out the windows at the stadium below. Despite the problems, damn thing was impressive. Doubled up on security already. Hand scratched at the back of his neck, annoyed at the curls that were getting long. "Who is the fighter you have booked already?" Huh..?...oh….. some level two altered that seems to think he is a big deal and will make a great first fight. Liquid slid past his lips as he watched a crew beginning to pull the destroyed speakers out of the northern section. "This is a big deal and I thought Gaspari would want a show of force. What do you think?" Blink was a bit surprised as he glanced back at the older man pouring himself another drink. Doubt he wanna ragin' lycan on the loose in his new venue… The chuckle was warm as he put the glass to his lips once more before letting it dangle from his fingertips, index tapping the rim thoughtfully as the frown ghosted on his brow. Suppose could see 'bout Angel takin' him on. Though she more a three than two… poor slob get his ass kicked by her.
  12. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    Actually Gaspari's is much more powerful with the molecular manipulation (its an OP ability ) Brandon is more like Matteo.
  13. Need Some Healing?

    She'd have to work it around her schedule at the hospital.
  14. Need Some Healing?

    Oh OH OH!! She could work w/ Bakkhos at Satyr stadium to heal the combatants after fights...that way it isn't always so fatal.
  15. Brandon and possible Affiliations

    I had a thought. I noticed that his Dimensional Shift ability could closely resemble Gaspari's molecular shift ability. If word got out that someone else in town was doing something similar to what Gaspari can do...it wouldn't be far-fetched for Brandon to receive an invitation to the Club one night.
  16. Nighttime is Playtime

    Ya realize you crackin' like you older than Carmine… Tom chuckled. He was indeed in full old-man mode. Construction was nearing completion…and he was impatient to get on with it. Seeing Matteo chuckle at the same thing, Tom smiled genuinely. It was good to crawl out form the dungeon that was his office from time to time. 'ey you talked to that woman yerself? Why you think she ponyin' up? Whatsin it for her? Tom shook his head at mention of Eris. “Yeah, I have. She’s...something.” Tom poured a drink for himself and sat down. “On the surface, it seemed like she was paying up to earn some good will because her next question was rather abrupt. Apparently, she owns an air strip and some of our boys were sniffin’ around there. I told her to ask you about it if she were concerned. Which reminds me…she ever get ahold of you?” He chuckled, “I don’t know how to feel about this one just yet. Part of me thinks she’d be a worthwhile ally…or a real pain in the—” He stopped mid-sentence, turning his gaze over to Mythos. He suspected as much when he met her, but being near him now confirmed it. Whatever she was, it was the same as Mythos. “Mythos. Do you know an Eris London? I think the two of you have quite a bit in common.” His face wasn’t angered…but there was no mistaking he was deadly serious.
  17. Building a Mystery

    What is with this woman? Tom thought to himself. Tom had met similar people…those who never ‘feel truly alive’ unless they were in some kind of perceived danger. Eris appeared to be one of those. Wonderful… Tom’s reputation among the Bakkhos was two-fold. On one hand, he is regarded as a genuine, sincere, and fiercely loyal member of the family. On the other, he is feared as an immutable force of nature should someone find themselves on his bad side. Because of this, Tom had become accustomed to people either running to him with good cheer…or steering clear of him when they knew he was displeased with them. He was particularly fond of that, but it was a useful tool, and one he kept at the ready. Eris, however, didn’t seem to be operating with the same playbook. She courted danger. She wanted the thrill of uncertainty. Why? “I pet vipers and swim with sharks Thomas. I rather like it. You might too.” Part of him did. In Tom’s conversations with Victor, Victor never mentioned an increasing desire to or anticipation for the change. Tom almost looked forward to it now. It was dreadfully inconvenient, and going into that box…Victor must be a man possessed of stronger personal discipline to routinely go into his box each month. Or else he was a champion of hiding his disdain. When Tom went upstate for the change…it was always…refreshing. He had always viewed that as a compromise. He allowed the beast an outlet so that he was in more control during the day to day. That was what he was hoping for at least. He wasn’t so sure these days. “I kill things I should fear. Being fearless is accepting the fact that you can’t control anything. Control is an illusion we tell ourselves so we can ignore the fact we’re monsters.” Tom chuckled softly. This was a philosophical point that they were likely to always disagree upon. “People kill spiders because they fear them. Tyrants kill groups of people because they fear them. Being willing to conquer your fears doesn’t always dismiss them. It, in fact, proves fear’s presence.” Tom took another drink from his glass, noting that she too truly believed what she said. “Oh, we are monsters. Control is not an illusion so much as an unattainable goal…but we try. I know what the consequences are if I forego control and just sit pleasantly in Club Bakkhos when the full moon rises.” His expression turned grim. “I am not willing to do that.” “I’m the thing that won’t run, that appreciates what you are at face value, that the vipers and sharks don't have to be afraid of hurting." He walked from behind the bar to take a seat closer to Eris. Resting his elbow on the wood his face darkened…voice a soft, deep whisper. “Because people like you won’t run…I must. Vipers, sharks…wolves…they aren’t afraid of hurting. Predators are pragmatic. Simple. They see prey and threats. From what I’ve seen…they both meet the same fate.” Her timing couldn’t have been better to be so bold. Had this conversation happened two weeks ago, or later…it’d have likely gone sideways much earlier. “That’s all you’re going to get I’m afraid. Maybe we can meet again over dinner in a few weeks… and you can see the rest for yourself.” Never mind. She was courting danger. She wanted to see Tom on the brink of a frenzied, blood-thirsty rage. Foolishness. “My turn. Why would Bakkhos be interested in casing the blocks around my airstrip? Sent several on their way a few days ago. Perhaps you could point me in the direction of who I should talk to about that. Last time I checked, there were no Bakkhos in my compound for someone to come in and save." The timing of this conversation worked out for him too. Had this question been posed two weeks ago…yeah. Good thing it didn’t. Switching back to business was a welcome change. So that's who owned that airstrip. He could use this. He sat up straighter and appeared to visibly relax. His voice, lighter than earlier. “I am not entirely sure who has interests over there off the top of my head. I would suggest speaking to Matteo if you are truly curious.” The snap back to the practical was welcome. Control, while not always easy…or even attainable…was no illusion. He must not let himself believe that.
  18. Earlier
  19. Shoot The Messenger

    The mayor is dead. The city is left in turmoil as crime increases and corruption runs unchecked. It's now modern time citizens want answers but will they SHOOT THE MESSENGER? PLOT | GROUPS | CANONS | ADS
  20. Words and Wax

    The man’s eyes trailed up from the book he was currently absorbed in. Before his spread out on the table were a number of books open to various section with illustrated examples of the various knots. His finger hovered as if he was afraid to actually touch the yellowing pages of a smaller book while with the other he was comparing one of he knots to the actual brooch readily visible to anyone. The metal box sat on the table, the lid placed to the side revealing the piece of paper that once housed the artifact. Based on his careful handling of the books it was obvious he knew how to care for them and cherished such things yet he seemed rather naive on idea that he should be keeping the existence of such an item a secret. Based on the widening of his eyes it was obvious he was more than a little surprised as he came back from his own little world of concentration to the reality everyone else seemed to share. Their color was still the same with a few more specks of blue as he delved deeper into his research. “Oh hi Rorye,” Brandon said letting a smile cross his face, “I certainly have." He glanced over at his empty cup not remembering when he had finished it, “I guess I could use some more coffee.” He smiled broadly at the dark haired woman and extended the small brooch towards her like a child in show and tell. “It was my mother’s,” he explained as he gently held the object, “it's not valuable or at least that's what I have been told and I’ve been curious about the knots for some time.” With his empty hand he motioned towards the books spread out before him and continued like an eager scholar ready to share his research,“from what I gather these knots are extremely rare and one of them,” he motioned to his last book, “mentions something about it being from another world.”
  21. Would Be Reluctant Hero

    “I’m not a hero,” the man protested hearing her empty he might try this again, just did what I could. He was starting to relax as the pain from his conditions began to vanish. It was a peculiar experience though not uncomfortable. He enjoyed looking at the woman though he wished it was under different circumstances. The skin on Branden’s hands was fresh and pink now, newly form from the woman’s efforts, where it had been charred and black from the heated metal chain and lock. His head still felt like a someone had gotten inside and was using a sledge hammer to break their way out. His eyes were becoming a little less blue as the effects dissipated leaving them more of the hazel tones. He knew as it happened it was going to become a issue pointing out his peculiarities from humans. His countenance fell as he listened to her explain his physical condition. “I, I’m sorry," the man said apologetically raising his gaze back up towards the blue eyed woman, “the mettle door hit me.”
  22. The Eclectic Charm

    “Gladly,” Brandon’s eyes sparkled as he responded to the words he heard. The grin on his face was about as big as it could get without actually hurting the man. His eyes stayed locked on the hazel eyed woman as he addressed the bar tender, “hay Jack, we’re going to move to a table, "could you send a waitress by?” “You got it,” the bartender replied picking up two paper menus and placing them on the counter in easy reach of either of them. “Thanks Jack,” the man said not letting his eyes leave his new female acquaintance. Brandon’s eyes were a little more brown than usual, something that happened when he was feeling happy and there was no doubt he was enjoying himself. He stood retrieving the backpack he had been guarding and offered a hand to Phoebe as if he had an idea of what it was like to be a gentlemen. “Make sure her drinks are on my tab,” Brandon said hoping Jack heard as he turned and began walking to a table. Over near the wall was a small round table draped in an off white table flanked by two chairs with cushioned seat not far from where the entertainer sat, more leaned actually, on her own high backed stool. The outworlder smiled as she saw the pair coming over but never missed a beat as she continued her melody. “This one alright,” he asked as he let go of her hand long enough to pull out the chair that faced the woman for Phoebe to have a seat.
  23. Grand Opening

    Steps being descended were heard a moment before the cheers came around her. Looked like Boone was making an early entrance tonight. His shape was easily recognized as he accepted a drink and climbed onto the bar. Enough business had been done between him and Gaspari with her in attendance that his form was "familiar" to her. Brow quirked as he played "host" to his crowd on the altar of booze. Ya… this was not a threat for Bakkhos. This was a leprechaun's paradise. Smirk lit her lips as she waited for the outlined bartender's form to "glance" her way, a nod as she slid the glass to him to indicate another. Sensitive ears listened to the owner's banter with his guests. He was in his element it seemed. She offered a nod to Hagan as another Yorsh was slid her way just as Boone took up a seat just beyond her boots. "Nice suit." Glass paused before her lips as she raised a brow at him. Other one's at the cleaners…. else I would have dressed up for your grand opening… His sarcasm was easily matched by her own as she glanced around the bar. She had to admit, it was a different kind of fun but the patrons seemed no less happy than at a Bakkhos venue. Quite the little bar….. for a leprechaun…. Smirk played on her lips before the glass came up to them, tainted dark beer going down easily.
  24. Words and Wax

    “I will, thank you for the warning.” Nod was slight, leaving the book room quietly with her coffee in tow. She refreshed it, standing at the front window for a long moment to survey the street that was waking up. He was a curious one, that was for sure. Searching for something. Some searched for curiosity, others for fun. Then there were those that searched out of need. He struck her as the type to fall into that category. Who knew what he was searching for, but when she set her coffee on the front counter to continue putting out the new stock of various stones, observant eyes didn’t miss the slip of something from a worn and treasured box into his hand. Now, that was interesting. Not only because she liked interesting things, but… she like to acquire interesting things. Her shop was full of them. Some hiding in plain sight like the skull artifact and the Sky Disc on the wall behind her, others locked down in a vault because they were so dangerous they weren’t to be handled except by their new owner. She was loyal to ARMA, but there were a lot of things she slid under their noses that they didn’t need to worry about. Old habits did die hard. Was this one of those things? Or just an innocent fascination. She cleared one box of new stock, keeping a close eye on the avid reader, and twenty minutes or so later returned to the room with a fresh pot of coffee. “Refresher?” she asked quietly. “Find anything interesting?”
  25. Enter the Phoenix

    "When would you ever need to blow something up?" He blinked at her, eyes widening slightly… fuuuuuuuuuu “When would you not?” It would seem like the comment would be in jest, but it truly wasn’t, hard to tell from this encounter whether he was a free spirited survivalist with a dark sense of humor… or a complete lunatic. Probably a bit of both. "I really don't want to spend the night here. I'm going on the move, either way." “Nothing would happen to ya, ya got me,” smile was Cheshire, quickly followed with- “I get it though. I really need to get home. Things to deliver and I work tomorrow. Wouldn’t be too seemly of me to be late to work.” Superglue was taken back and tossed up once to catch nimbly before it went into the side-bag. "Let's go. If you're up for it." “Up for anything,” he really was, but damn his poor nose. Fingertips rubbed at it a bit before climbing back on his favorite beast and kicking up the stand to right it. “Got no helmets… so it’s a ride at your own risk kind of party.” Kicking it to a start, he waited for her to climb on. They would be close to dusk when they arrived, but it was doable. “Where in New York are you going?”
  26. Fucking Out of Here.....

    ((((aaaaand......dancing in the dark!!!)))
  27. Grand Opening

    "Well shit." He stifled the shit grin on his face as boots hit the floor from their perch on his desk. Eyes took great care peering closer to the monitor, the laugh to himself amused. Fingers caught the mug off a pile of papers, leaning back in the swanky leather office chair to stare at the ceiling and spin in the chair lazily, finishing the pint. He got up, the slight stagger not from the booze, but the twirl. Stairs were quick, finger to the side of his nose when he emerged from the polished swinging door on the side of the bar. Murmurs and cheers, many glasses finding their way into the air and a full mug immediately in his hand. He took a long drink before climbing up onto the bar, looking out over the small sea of soon to be drunk and happy patrons… some of which came just to catch a glimpse of him and play a round of darts. “Here's to all my friends and lovers. May all your ups and downs be under the covers! But watch it my dears! No matter how beautiful, smart, and full of class… to somebody, somewhere, she’s a pain in the ass.” His blown kiss seemed to be at nobody…. seemed to be. The room lit up with laughter and silenced as the drinking commenced. His boots hit the floor and he slammed his mug on the counter, the amusement again diving into a fun loving laughter, then back to the murmur of personal conversation. He wove through the crowd, greeting, laughing, slapping the back of a few shoulders, until reaching the relatively silent end of the bar… up on a stool next to the offending foot and leaning backward on the counter with his elbows. Attention surveyed his domain. “Nice suit,” he said quietly, sarcasm of course. He nodded toward Hagan, another beer was already sliding toward his hand.
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