milliways_bar | (no subject)

Elan walks over. There's a Banjo puppet stuck on one of his hands, but Elan's trying to downplay that little detail.

New people to introduce himself to trumps awkward puppet situations.

"Hi, I'm Elan."

Ray looks up and smiles. "Hi there!" he says, a little more brightly than usual- and given that this is Ray, that's pretty dang bright. "My name's Ray. I don't believe I've seen you around the Bar before, have I?"

People being cheery makes Elan smile. This isn't hard, Elan smiles most of the time anyway.

"I don't think we've talked. I came in this morning. Except I stayed a few days, and it was still this morning. So then I came back in while it was still this morning. I don't know how long it's been here. But I like meeting new people!"

"Are you from Earth, too? I've heard a lot of people are from that dimension."

"You know, you remind me of a guy I know who happens to be me, only not in the same dimension as me," Ray says thoughtfully. "Yeah, I'm from Earth. Well, an Earth anyway. There's multiple different variations on the theme of Earth represented here. I wasn't aware that too many other people knew about the dimension issue, though."

"Oh, we have a spell that does it. I don't know much about other dimensions, though, that's mostly Vaarsuvius's stuff. I didn't know about this place, although I'm having a lot of fun with it. I think we have a lot more magic in my dimension than in most places."

"I wouldn't be surprised. The number of dimensions I've found that have high PKE levels- that's magic or psionics, basically- seem to be badly outnumbered by Earth, which usually but doesn't always have a low level of magic. My Earth happens to have swarms of ghosts and spirits for a number of reasons, so I've had to study a lot of that kind of information and wound up learning about other dimensions in the process myself."

"Do you not have any clerics? I have a friend, Durkon, he's a dwarven cleric. He hates undead, and tries to turn them all the time. He didn't get to help when we were fighting the lich, though, because he was too strong. But yeah, we have problems with undead too."

"Do you know if there's some way I could find out more about the various people in the bar? I'm a Bard, and we're supposed to know a lot about stories and people and things. I feel weird not knowing much about the dimensions."

Ray pauses to think about this, casting around for words to explain it reasonably well.

"All our clerics are extremely low level. I don't know what the deal is, but I have yet to see one perform even a successful basic Turning without a heck of a lot of ritual preparation, and even then they hardly ever get it right. My colleagues and I've come up with other ways of getting rid of the undead, although it's more through technology than either divine or arcane magic. I'm sort of completely incapable of learning or using any kind of magic anyway. Took an injury handling a major artifact without having the necessary mana to back it up, you see."

He thinks for a minute. "I would strongly suggest you speak to a friend of mine, a young man named Andrew Wells. Andrew works with a group of undead hunters called the Watchers' Council, but he knows more about lore and stories from all different kinds of worlds than a heck of a lot of other people here in the Bar. I've done some studying of that kind of stuff myself, but I'm no Bard, not by a long shot. Just-" Think think think- "an artificer."

Elan thinks about that for a moment. "Oh! That explains these things." Elan indicates the meter and other mechanical devices with his non-puppet hand. "So you built these? I don't really build anything, I just sing to inspire confidence in my friends. And I have a few illusion spells."

"Oh! And I recently became a Dashing Swordsman, so I could rescue Haley! I got a lot better at swordfighting because of that."

Ray nods. "I've been building and designing and inventing things for quite a few years now. It runs in my family. My dad did something similar, although he was more in the way of an alchemist than an artificer, exactly." 'Chemical engineer' is a little tricky to explain.

"Oh, really? What kind of sword do you use?"

"I use a rapier. I get a bonus to damage if I make a witty quip when I attack with it. I'm not used to actually being effective, though. Usually I'm just support and comic relief."

Ray grins. "I've been training with a sort of weapon I made myself that's about as light as a rapier but as effective as a broadsword," he says. "The only problem is that not only do I not get bonuses with it, but unless you have certain psionic talents, you stand a pretty good chance of cutting off your own leg with it on a fumble."

"... why would you want that sort of weapon? If you don't have those psionic talents, you're going to roll a critical miss eventually. I don't think losing your leg would be very useful."

Elan gasps. "Unless you were fighting evil ghosts that possess just your leg! You'd have to heal the leg afterwards, though, that'd be messy."

"Mostly because it's the weapon of a special order of psionic fighter-types called the Jedi knights, and I always wanted to join the order when I was a kid," Ray says. "They almost have to take you in if you can build a weapon like that, even if you're not talented. Besides, I have other weapons that I use that're more dangerous and I haven't burnt any of my body parts off yet, so I figure I'm pretty lucky in that regard."

He nods. "Well, that or build a replacement part for the leg. That's kind of a tradition among people with that kind of injury."

Well, that goes over Elan's head, other than the child-hood dream part. "Wow, neat."

"And then you could be a pirate! Arr! I think I'd rather keep my legs, though. I get enough buckling of swashes with what I do already."

"There are worse fates than being a pirate," says Ray. "Hey, have you seen the pirate ship in the lake out back? It's called the Black Pearl. Very impressive."

"I saw it! I was talking to somebody about how they got it in the lake. Does it ever leave the lake? Or are they taking a long vacation and leaving it here for a while?"

"At the moment they're trying to find the right spell to get back, I think," Ray says. "Plus I think there's more magic involved than they're used to. I haven't got the details yet, unfortunately."

"Yeah, I don't know of any spells that could move a whole boat. Most of the stuff I know of just does a few people. My spells are just little illusion things or mending small objects or such. Nothing really impressive. Mostly I just play my lute. Roy told me I'm never supposed to sing Spice Girls ever again, though."

"... you have Spice Girls in your world?" Ray says. "Seriously?"

"Oh, sure!" Elan hesitates for a moment, realizes one hand is still Banjo'd, and quickly grabs his kazoo.

What follows is a 23 perform check (amazingly good) on kazoo playing "If you wanna be my lover".

"... wow."

Because, well. What else are you going to say to a performance like that?

Across from Ray sits a little green army helmet starts to come over the edge of the table. It raises up enough for a pair of eyes to be seen between the rim of the helmet and the tables top. The figure, of course, can't blink but he continues to watch Ray intently.

"Psst! Hey..you!" the voice says in a loud whisper that only puppets can do.

Then there is a long pause.

"Whatcha doin?"

Ray does a pretty good job of jumping in his chair despite remaining otherwise perfectly in-position. When he's resettled he looks up, spotting the helmet as the source of the voice. "Oh. Um, I'm doing, um, research. I'm trying to figure out what, um... you know, I don't think we've met, have we? My name's Ray. I'm trying to do some research on the puppet situation, since ... um... shoot. I have no idea where I was going with that sentence."

A felted hand is then seen on the table as Luz pushes a rather heavenly piece of chocolate towards Ray. Then the 4-finger hand is gone back under the table. Looking right then looking left Luz soon climbs a little higher in his chair so eyes and a nose can be seen.

"George Luz. Current target in a comedy show gone wrong with a wolf and a sherrif."

Looking left and right with the turn of his head isn't the easiest thing to do with the helmet on. Especially since he already looks like a boobblehead doll. "We have a puppet situation?"

"Well, in my case at least we do," says Ray as Luz pulls himself a little further up. "My girlfriend's been turned into one, which is kind of annoying, all things considered. I take it you're all right with the situation, though?"

The chocolate gets an interested look, but he's not about to make a move on it until he's sure it's meant for him and not just being moved around by the other... um... by Luz.

No, it's ment for Ray if he wants it. Puppet Geroge makes no move to pick it up. "Well..thats the odd thing I guess. Sort of growing used to it." Smileing a little only the way a puppet can he again looks left and right.

Shifting his gaze to the books Luz stands at his full height placeing his waist about tabletop level. "Any idea what did it?" Though at the sound of what could be mistaken as a wolf in the puppet's mind he ducks back down to eyelevel.

Ray picks it up, then; caffeine calls to caffeine, after all. Although he may forget that he's got it in his hand, knowing him. "I understand it happens like that around Halloween, too," he says. "With the costumes. Although this isn't the Bar's magic, as far as I can tell. It gives every impression of being the work of Delirium of the Endless- she's a little unpredictable at times. I'm just trying to figure out if it can be undone without involving further action from her."

"What with the who did the what about the what?" It makes perfect sense in the little puppeted paratroopers mind at the time.

Finally he stands again, diging another piece of chocolate from his little jumpjacket pocket and plops it into his felted mouth. That's when he starts to shake again- talk about puppet sugar rush!

"Sosososo. So. SooOOo. When are you from Mr. Ray-figureing-out-the-thing-puppet-spell?"

".... okay, let's start over. It's magic, and that kind of thing happens around here from time to time, but I think I know who caused it. So now I want to figure out how to fix it."

Hopefully that's safe enough.

The sugar rush is going to be interesting, he can tell; still, Ray manages. "Oh, me? I'm from New York City in the year 2007. How about yourself?"

It would be amuseing to see the little WWII helmet shifting from side to side like on a bobble head doll the way that Luz seems to be twitching from the sugar rush. "Currently? Normandy 1944. Or Milliways 1944. Or Normandy Milliways. Or.." the multiple combinations go one for a good minute longer before he stops just watching Ray with unblinking eyes.

"Magic? I like magic. Can you pull a rabbit from a hat?"

"Ooh. Funky. You know, I had a grandfather in that war, but he's on the opposite side of the world from you. Grandpa Maxim's fighting in the Pacific theater somewhere," says Ray. "Hmm... I can't do the rabbit trick, but I could pull money out of your ears pretty easily, I think."

he does, after all, have nephews.

The thought of the PTO seems to almost disinterest Luz for only a brief moment. "I hear the flamingos bite like the naked native girls do. As him about the naked native girls."

Giving a firm nod, Luz leans against the table resting his chin on felted hands. "What do in 2007? Fly in space cars? Is the moon made of green cheese?"

"The next time I see him I will," says Ray. Which is actually not an idle promise. Ray's grandfather has been manifesting as a ghost in his favorite kosher deli in midtown Manhattan.

"Oh, no, the moon's made of rock and dust," Ray says. "We've put men on the moon a couple of times now. We've got a telescope in orbit around the Earth so we can see all kinds of stars you couldn't see from the ground, and we've landed machines on Mars. Haven't found any Martians yet, but that's not for lack of trying."

Total puppet blank stare. That is the only reaction that Ray gets with the news of what the future holds for Earth.

And then the puppet cusses. "You have got to be shiting me. Jesus Christ.." Looking for a wait-rat Luz raises a hand. "Apple juice for me and the book-man!"

"No, sir," says Ray with an absolutely straight face. "I assure you, I am in no way shitting you. Neither am I pulling your leg when I tell you that within five years of the end of the war, America will have an airplane that flies faster than the speed of sound."

Luz's mun apologizes for the lac of response. Blame the Superbowl XD

Again the paratrooper just stares at Ray. "No, shit?" SHakeing his head a little the puppetman dances a little as he leans against the table. "And the War ends? Who wins?"

"On my honor as an electrical engineer," Ray promises. "I probably shouldn't give you the specifics, but considering that they find Mussolini hanging by his ankles from a meathook before it's all over..."

For once puppet Luz has nothing to say, just stares at Ray like before but this time with an open mouth. "I like that idea. To bad it wasn't Hitler."

Reaching into a little jacket pocket he pulls out a little mini pack of Lucky Strikes. Placeing it between felted lips results in the cigarette hanging from the bottom half of his mouth. "Sooo any idea what happens to Easy Company?"

There is a hopeful sound to his puppet voice.

"Oh, there's an appointment with a bunker in his future," Ray says. "That's all I'm going to say there."

He thinks for a bit. Eventually he says, "I wish I could say, but I don't remember being taught the name one way or the other, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."

"Ahh well that is even more good news..I think.." Reaching a felt hand up he tilts the helmet back on his head a little. "We are Airborne men- jump from planes and go WEE! when we do it too!"

OK it's not exactly what they would say, but its what they would if they were puppets!

"We have a nifty song too!"

Ray grins. "Glad to hear it," he says. "Oh? Do I wanna hear it?"

It seems to be Ray's night for music.

Luz doesn't give Ray a chance to ghance his mind. At the top of his puppety lungs he belts out,

"OOOOOOOHHHH!"

"We're Colonel Johnson's Troopers- we're fighters of the Night! We're dirty sonsabitches! We'd rather fuck than fight! Hi-Dee, Hi-Dee, Christ Almighty, Who in the Hell are WE? Rim-Ram, Gawd Damn, Parachute Infantry!"

WEll, now, that's a performance you don't ever expect to get from a puppet. Ray? Applauds.

Noone said puppets had to have -clean- mouths. After a moment the ordered apple juice arriaves much to the poor paratroopers delight.

"Hi ho, Silver!" Reaching down with both hands he takes one glass then motions to the other for Ray to take if he wants it. "At least I can't run Currahee like this!"

Cackling with laughter he is soon busy slurping down the brown liquid.

Ray's perfectly happy to take his own. "Works for me," he says. "Bottoms up, huh?"

Before he can take another drink the puppet is bounceing out of the seat, something having caught his eye. With the combined sugar rush and apple juice mixed it makes for a short attention span.

"Nice meetinya! BYE!" the little puppet man says as he takes off runing chaseing whatever it is down before smacking, again, into the nearest table legs.