Dawson's Pub

Pub's have alot of character to them, if done right that is. Now a pub with character, with a crazy set of characters in it surrounded by super powered people? That would be Dawson's Pub. Dawson's is a hole in the wall sort of joint, attracting all sorts of people from different walks of life to it's business. The service is terrible, the food is even worse and it smells kinda weird, but even then, there always seems to be a handful of super humans in the place, regulars too.

Dawson's is owned and "managed" by none other than Clint Dawson. Clint is a very poor, stupid, weird, unclean, loud, alcoholic man. He lives in squalor (the pub basement) and is always looking for ways to achieve goals that don't involve normal people tasks.

So come on down, have some booze, get in shenanigans, what could possibly go wrong?

RULES

• This place is a rundown, crappy pub. Not too many rules.
• Go nuts with destruction, as long as the place is still standing by bricks.
• Fights are totally allowed.
• Not really a rule but if you kill Clint? The place will probably shut down.
• Sell the place as the hole in the wall it is. It would be sorta surprising if say Val Huntington was in the place sipping on a fine glass of champagne.
• Have fun!

I can't help but laugh because, while it isn't, it's almost like this rule means certain people are barred from being here. I can't help but laugh.

@dawsons_pub: Where is the pub? Depending on that, I might be here a lot xD

It's ambiguous, the pub is sort of convenient for anyone that way.

Would Jean Luc drink at a place like this? Maybe even Antonia herself? At a place the consistently smells like piss and is run by a total weirdo? I only try to be realistic.

Stumbling through the door to Dawson's, the young sea-king looked around uneasily. This place was alien to him- and, by all the stares he got, he was alien to it. As people watched him, he made sure his trident was across his back before walking up to who seemed to be in charge- the bartender.

"Good sir, I am parched. Shall you please serve me..." He eyed a glass of beer someone next to him was drinking. "That beverage!" He pointed at it, smiling widely. With a small grumble, he got his drink- surprised by how it tasted. "Why, this is delicious!" Slamming the drink down with a bang, he quickly ordered another- drinking it in seconds.

Within moments, the ruler of 3/4's of the world was raging drunk. Turning to look around woozily, Caetus snorted- standing up he pulled out his trident. "Who dares defy King of Atlantis?" People were openly laughing at him. Him, the true king! Growling he swung his trident, smashing a nearby table to pieces. Roaring in laughter, Caetus turned away from the angry patrons that were sitting there, and proceeded to seek another challenge.

@dawsons_pub: Eh, I dunno. Toni doesn't drink out anywhere unless there's another purpose. Hehee, still funny though.

@arquitenens: :P

Do come by with Abby, though!

@dawsons_pub: Badass.

Clint quickly stepped out from behind the bar, freaked out by this merman. With shaky hands in front of him and a chuckle, the idtiot tried to sate the man's rage. "H-HEY now buddy! No one is challenging you or whatever! Everyone is just a little drunk- Hell I'm even a little drunk, so let's just calm down, I'll get you another round...We'll all be good...Right?" Clint smiled nervously, he couldn't afford more tables.

I like this thread. I'll post here with another character. Maybe Ambrosius.

@dawsons_pub: Heh, what, this place seem more her cup of tea?

@dawsons_pub: Man, Clint's fvcked. Good luck with a pissed off Aquaman.

@arquitenens: It's down low, discreet and has cheap drinks. I don't see why not!

@dawsons_pub: Because she's rich and very clean and doesn't like the smell of piss any more than the others!

I am just terrible tonight. Something's got me in a fun mood.

@arquitenens: I thought she was a down and dirty type! A survivor or something.

I wanna post here now but I'm too lazy.

@dawsons_pub: YEAH! But that doesn't mean she's nasty and trashy!

Hehee, it wouldn't be totally out of the question, depending.

@arquitenens: Well, we can always use big money in a place like this, just sayin' >_>

Boom boom boom.

@_nox_:

@dawsons_pub:

"Drunkkk..." Caetus carried out the word, confused by it."What is this drunk?" Sniffing, he eyed Clint up and down. Was this man bothering him? He wasn't sure yet, but it would make the difference between the poor land-man's life or death. Sniffing again he blinked a few times- deciding to lean on his staff for support, or else he might fall over. Caetus didn't understand the concept of 'drunk'. In fact, alcohol itself was a fresh concept to him, as were many other things on the land. Like TV. Or cats.

@caetus_: @dawsons_pub

The entity Caetus knew as Ryan from The Strip and Champions Unlimited entered the bar. He took off his Fedora and hung it on the coat wrack, keeping his eyes on Caetus. "Bar keep, would you get me a water with a pinch of sea salt?" He asked.

@dawsons_pub: OMG IT'S CHARLIE DAY!!!!!!!!

The bar certainly didn't possess the sort of upscale flair or classy aesthetic that the Arcane Architect had grown accustomed to but like many of the places he has recently frequently, it was more or less unassuming. It wasn't a magnet for attention. And with the Registration Act's resurgence, Ambrosius hoped to avoid all the attention he could. Setting foot inside the bar, the sorcerer's uniquely hued eyes surveyed the environment as the smooth Portuguese inflection of his relaxed, soothing voice seized the atmosphere with it's cool presence, "My goodness", he began, guiding himself towards a neighboring booth, "This place is a piece of work", he remarked, "But it'll do".

Reaching into his pocket, his right hand emerged with a marijuana blunt held between his thumb and index finger. Retiring to his chosen booth, Ambrosius brought the blunt to his lips before conjuring a quick flame to light it's end. "Arturia hates it when I smoke. Maybe I should stop doing it at home", he paused, taking the time to inhale the smoke from his paper-wrapped blunt. "If only she knew how this helped me. Maybe I should tell her when I next see her", he contemplated. He'd grown to harbor a working degree of trust in the young woman, perhaps it was time he enlightened her on the tragic reason behind his smoking habit. Greeting an approaching waitress with a charming smile of personable magnetism, Ambrosius met her inquiry regarding a desired beverage with a request for a glass of Johnnie Walker's Black Label whiskey.

A beverage they unfortunately, did not have. "That's fine, sweetheart. I'll settle for a glass of some Jameson", Ambrosius compromised before the waitress returned with the requested beverage. "Maybe I should stop smoking altogether. If it bothers her so much", he considered with a thought as his gaze rested on a neighboring window. "Heh, the things men do for women. It astounds me", the Portuguese laughed, finding himself at peace with the earthy scent of marijuana smoke hanging in the air.

@solarius: @caetus_: Clint kept his cautious pose, not wanting to tick off what he guessed was a tank of a mutant. The tension sort of broke when a new customer came in, asking for a drink that was surprisingly not the first time requested. "Sure thing man..." Clint looked over at the fish man with a slight shake of his head. "Just...Easy on the tables, it's crazy hard to find good tables at dumps recently."

The owner got back behind the counter with a clumsy vault and fetched the water, sliding it over to their newest guest.

@dawsons_pub: @caetus_

Ryan smiled and took the glass, which he then handed over to Caetus. "Have a drink, clear your head a little, courtesy of your friend Solaris." He then handed over the money to the barkeep.

Wh-What's this!? A sign that says "OOC chatting is totally aloud up in this thread"? How....Strange >_> *Waits for thread traffic to skyrocket*

@dawsons_pub: @solarius:

Weakly he noticed Ryan order a water, but still Caetus was on edge. Swiftly grabbing it he downed it quickly- immediately feeling its effects. His mind was clearer, his drunken stupor lessened to a slight buzz alone. Massaging a temple with one hand he finally looked back up at Ryan, his ally. Nodding, he straightened his posture and turned to the barkeep.

"I... apologize, for the damages here." He bowed slightly, regaining the respect he had entered the bar with. "Allow me on behalf of Atlantis to repay you." Reaching into a pocket he produced a small gemstone- a ruby, about the size of his palm. It'd pay for the table and drinks ten times over at least. Bowing again, he turned to Ryan. "How'd you know I was here?"

@caetus_: Clint noticed his payment instantly, only wide eyed and taking it within an instant.

@pyrogram

I see you're alive, how are you?

@caetus_:

"It's surprisingly easy to track a man with a trident." He said. "Solaris thinks something might be going down soon, she sent me out to check on the whereabouts of our team members in case we need to recall everyone."

Gonna post in here soon. Concept is cool, won't let it die.

Heh. It's been awhile. Also, this is this account's 200th post. Yay me!

It had been about a month since Kelly had fought weirdos and blown up Conti Tower. He had seen the mysterious men who had brought him back only once, and it was fleeting, to deliver thanks for his services. He was apathetically awaiting a new mission, and in his free time, had moved. He was seated at the bar, and a group of loud, drunken men had just approached. He looked at the leader expectantly. "You're in my seat, @sshole." Kelly looked at them and assessed the weakest. Flicking a stray bar nut between the eyes of the man on the left, he raised a fist and struck the leader. The remaining two, taken aback by the sudden defeat of their boss, backed slowly away. Raising the stool he had been sitting on seconds earlier, he dispatched them with ease. A burly British man in the corner began to slowly applaud. "Good show!" Kelly recognized him. "Noel, how've you been?"

"Oh, fine, can't complain. I've got a job. Tell me, you ever been to Scotland?"

@_dox_

Leon wasn't supposed to be doing this. He'd told Stella he wasn't going to. But he knew it wasn't right to leave it alone. He had to give Dox the shirt. He pulled up to the place on his classic Harley-Davidson, and looked around, not wary of shady characters he probably should've been wary of, instead he was paranoid of Stella somehow finding him. Not seeing her, and not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he spotted the "friend/acolyte" he was looking for. Or at least, he hoped it was the right person.

He stepped off of his motorcycle, approached the man, and asked "Want a free shirt?"

@neon_leon:A grimy, unshaven man wearing a Guy Fawkes mask and hoodie stood outside the old-fashioned pub holding a battered briefcase. "That'd be great. I'd trade you?" The case held a Giy Fawkes mask, a dossier with information on how to make a change in the world legally and non-violently, a poster with the cryptic words "expect us" and an ancient iPhone 3 with a blocked number on text and phone, and the hard-to-reach Arcem Veratis bookmarked on the web browser.

@_dox_: "Sweet." Leon played it cool, pulled the shirt from his backpack, handed it to the man, and took the briefcase. He had no idea what it was for, but he didn't wanna seem like a dumb kid again. He tried to shove it in his saddlebag, but it wouldn't fit. He kept shoving, but no luck. The bag was too small. Finally, he pulled a rope out, shoved half of the briefcase in the bag, and tied the briefcase down. He drove off, his mind racing with new thoughts, most of them being either "How do I hide this from Stella?" or "What's in the briefcase?"

@neon_leon: Wade Colins watched Leon go, stuck the shirt in a bag to keep the sample safe, and sent a text to Dox. We're good. He has the package.

@neon_leon:

@gale_xanders: don't hurt me!

Dang it, wrong account, my bad.

The Eighth Wonder of the World strode through the streets, bitter, and battered. In his adventures, he'd seen much. He'd discovered the reason he was alive once more, he'd fallen in love, tangled with flying financiers and cyborg ex-Presidents. He'd saved the girl, fallen in love. He'd lost the girl.

On the outside, he was was a hulking figure, larger than the common man, a giant, but inside, he was weary with the world. Small. Weak. And in need of a drink. He spotted a dive bar, neon lights unglowing, the lights off within. This meant nothing. He crossed the filthy street to enter, and when he reached for the knob, the entire entrance collapsed. This was no feat of strength, merely the decay of a place long abandoned, unused, uncared for, unloved. He walked in.

The tables and chairs were strewn about. Broken glass was scattered and the stench of the place assaulted Andre's senses. He could barely see in here. Producing the light orb given to him by the alien physician, he walked up to the bar and hopped over it, landing with a resounding thud and broken floorboards. The wood was rotten, and when the light was shown upon it the concrete basement below was seen. He changed his subject of attention to the various bottles of alcohol left behind. Most were smashed, but some were not. Stained and sticky with the remnants of the unlucky bottles, several large bottles of scotch, whiskey, rye, wine. A bottle of Jack and a half empty bottle of Southern Comfort.

Andre would finish it very quickly. But it was no matter. Andre sat on the floor, opened a bottle of wine, and drank it.

**************
A cursory search of the place had revealed little. A few empty wallets and a large duffel bag were the only real things of use, other than the crate of Twinkies. Gathering what was left of the alcohol, he carefully placed the bottles inside, leaving behind one that had been watered down with anti-freeze. With the duffel bag and crate, Andre had all that he could get from such a place. He walked out into the sun. It stung his eyes a little, after having been in the dark for so long.

It felt good.

He set off down the empty street once more.

With a slight twinge of unwarranted unhappiness fell upon him, he stopped in place, looking up to the sky.

"Dear god, I hope the Warrior Woman is happy."

And with that, Andre The Giant, The Eighth Wonder of The World, strode off into the winds of time itself.

Aria walked into the old, run down pub. It was nothing he was unfamiliar with .. to him these dives of places were actually, at times, quite homely. He ordered a double of bourbon, straight. Sitting at a table, alone in the corner, he wondered if he might make any new acquaintances tonight .. his social anxieties notwithstanding.

*Gulp*

Down the drink went. Smooth.

'Another, barkeep!' .. slamming a tenner at the counter, Aria figured it best to just enjoy the opportunity to drink without restriction. It wasn't like anybody was going to throw him out of here.