Fight Club

[touched_by_fire]

Danny is bored. Stuck on a container ship traveling the Atlantic doesn’t leave much for him to do once his work is done and not even the friendly fights the other crew put together is helping with the doldrums. New York City cannot get here sooner.

So he’s here in bar and looking over the flyers on the bulletin board. Spotting an old announcement for a fight club, he cracks a smile and runs to Bar for some pencil and paper.

Leaving his own note, he runs outside to wait for anyone who wants to spar.

Fight Club out back
No maiming or killing
(And don’t make extra work for X!)

 

[OOC: Fight club works sort of like a party post. Tag in with your character and others will tag in to see about sparring. See this backroom post for more info, especially if you haven't participated in fight clubs before. Post open at least until Friday, but feel free to keep the fights going past then if you want.]

The Judge: First Entrance

[justices_conscience]

The door opens, closes, and the Judge has stepped into a place he didn't expect.

He is a tall figure, covered from head to toe. Leather boots and gloves, long duster coat reinforced with snug leather bands around the ribs, broad-brimmed, almost pilgrim-like hat and a bandanna covering his face. There's a broad-bladed sword sheathed at his side but, even though his body language denotes alarm, he doesn't reach for the weapon as many would.

Instead he looks around slowly, taking in the surroundings from behind a pair of dust goggles. Gauging the weirdness of the situation, the apparent lack of hostility and the possible angles of manoeuvre. He reaches back to make sure at least the door is still there. Good. There are things out there that can move you halfway across the city in a blink, if Fate hands them the right cards.

Okay, it's a bar. A strange one, but clearly recognizable as one. He'll ponder what the Hell is happening outside the large observation window on the other side of the room later, once the rest is making -some- sense.

(OOC: Hi! Newcomer here. Feel free to bother the Judge. I might be spotty due to work being Hell but I'll do my best to reply! Thank you!)

(no subject)

[aaaaaaaagh_sky]

[OOM: Spectacle Island, or, "THE LOBSTAH APOCALYPSE HAS BEGUN!"]

It smells. Oh, God, it smells. It smells like lobster and crab and two hundred years of aging Boston Harbor sediment and crab and mud and did we mention the crab smell?

-- oh, wait, it's Ellen. And Dogmeat. But mostly Ellen.

It's been a long day in the Commonwealth.

Gaster: First Entrance

[darkeryetdarker]

The first thing Gaster sees is light.

The void is darkness, and silence, and he can't remember how long he's been wandering through it.

When his eyes do adjust, he finds himself in a bar of some kind - he can't help being reminded a bit of Grillby's back home - filled with mostly humans.

Well. Wherever this is, it's certainly not the Underground.

He looks at his hands. They're still transparent, as is he. You might not be able to see him, but some might sense him, and any electronic devices might start acting a little weird while he's here.

Gaster glides towards an empty table, a bit uneasy, and sits down.

At least, it's something different.

(OOC: New to RPing. If your character can perceive him, feel free to interact!)