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!)

Comments

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

There's a man, too large and pale to be baseline human, working behind the bar. He's toweling off the glasses left by the last Happy Hour, and putting them back in their cupboards.

When he looks up from his work, he's a little surprised. Very few people come through this early in the afternoon. It's obvious that whoever it is, he's a newcomer. The confused body language gives them away.

Zso Sahaal isn't particularly good at introducing people to the undiluted insanity than can be the multiverse, but he'll try.

"Can I get you a drink?"

[justices_conscience]

The Judge turns towards the man behind the bar. Huge, pale. Odd but not the oddest he has seen by far.

"Not while I'm on duty." And finding himself stuck in this kind of weirdness he considers himself automatically on duty. His voice is strong, carrying well even from behind the bandanna covering his face. "I didn't catch the name of your establishment coming in though." It's flimsy but it's a way of stalling for time and maybe get a clue about where exactly this is.

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

"No, I doubt you would have. And it's not mine, I just live here. This is Milliways, the Bar at the End of the Universe."

He gestures to the window. Outside, the end of everything seems to glow a little brighter, and expand out, as if it were puffing out its chest.

Sahaal gives the newcomer a small shrug. "If you're sure."

Duty. A soldier perhaps, but more likely an officer of somewhere's laws. They do tend to be more concerned with their sobriety.

[justices_conscience]

"At the end of the Universe..."
He follows Sahaal's glance to the observation window. Pretentious joint names are hardly unknown in Malifaux but that kind of light show is well out of reach of all but anybody. And the city grows fast but not fast enough for something like this to go unnoticed.

"All right, let's say I can accept that. How the Hell did I end up here?"

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

"That door behind you. It might look like a regular taphouse entrance, but it is, in fact, a portal to the wider multiverse. Every single universe ever created can be accessed by walking through it. As for how you specifically came here..."

Sahaal pats the wooden countertop, with more gentleness and respect than you would an inanimate object.

"That was down to her."

[justices_conscience]

If the notion of the Multiverse is specially baffling to him he gives little hint of it but the way Sahaal addresses the Bar brings a clear shift of focus. In his own universe animate objects fall in one of two categories.
One of them he doesn't trust much and the other... The other is outright worse.
"It's a construct, then?"

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

"Construct? I don't know what meaning you put behind the word, so I couldn't tell you for sure. All anyone here knows is that she's sentient, she communicates through paper notes, and she prefers female pronouns. She's been running this place for as long as anyone can remember."

He likes artificial intelligence as much as anyone from the 42nd Millennium, which is to say he hates with a passion. But, Bar is different. For one, Sahaal's not sure she is artificial.

[justices_conscience]

"An object animated through mostly mechanical procedures with maybe a spark of magic to give it limited sentience." He looks down at the Bar. "But this seems much too sophisticated to be a construct in that sense."

[exiled_heir_of_the_eighth]

He shakes his head. "No. Nothing like that."

There's a pause. "Magical machinery? Just what sort of a world do you hail from?"

[iprotectyou]

There's an unarmored giant of a man sitting at the bar and eating chicken soup with English alphabet letters. He spots the newcomer and waves eagerly.

"Hoi! May the Force of others be with you! I'm Guardian Baze Malbus. Are you new? You look it."

(OOC: Welcome to the bar!)

[justices_conscience]

He tips the broad brim of his hat to the large man.
"Good evening to you, Guardian. I'm the Judge." He looks around. "And I suppose yes, I'm new here." His voice carries easily, unmuffled by the bandanna over his face.

(OOC: Thank you!)

[iprotectyou]

Baze is thrilled that the stranger addresses him by his newly reacquired title. He beams, gleefulness waiting off of him in waves.

"Greetings, Judge. This is Milliways. It's the bar at the end of the universe. And this--' Here he pats the counter. "--is Bar. She's sentient, and can summon whatever you need, barring magic items, living things, and live ammo."

[justices_conscience]

Sentient and with the ability to summon... That sounds bad. In Malifaux it would be -really- bad and he has no reason to expect it to be much better here... Wherever 'here' may be. There's a certain new tension in hiss posture, something Baze would easily recognize as combat readiness.

"From your tone I assume this Bar isn't hostile to human life?" His voice is cautious nonetheless, one hand hovering near the strange sword sheathed at his hip in a curiously gunslinger-like gesture.

[iprotectyou]

Baze, wearing black and red Guardian's robes, is quick to notice the sudden switch, and the new tension the Judge carries in his tone and posture. The Guardian holds up his hands.

"Peace, friend. The Bar isn't hostile. In fact, she's more maternal than anything."

[justices_conscience]

Even without one inch of skin exposed, the tilt of his head denotes a wary glance.

"You would be surprised at some kinds of mothers I've seen in my days." He doesn't shudder but there's definitely a weight to his words. Still, his hand moves back to a relaxed position, less ready to draw. "But I get your meaning." He reaches out, places one hand on the Bar cautiously.

"I didn't mean to offend. Animate objects that can summon things are very bad news where I come from."

[iprotectyou]

Baze smiles again, a grin which only grows broader as Bar pops up a napkin with a smiley face. He lowers his hands.

"I'm pretty sure she wasn't offended. We all come from different worlds with different dangers. Different times, too, so someone might come in from your past."

[justices_conscience]

His head tilts, a gesture somewhat looking amused.

"I sincerely hope not. Calling it 'chequered' would be exaggerating by a half. The not-dark one." There's less tension in his voice now, more warmth. "Thank you for your patience. Thank you both, actually." He tips the brim of his hat to Bar.

[runningred]

Jay is sitting at the bar, sharpening a rather long slender bladed sword. He looks up at the newcomer and smiles. "Hey man."

{ooc: welcome!}

[justices_conscience]

The Judge tips the broad brim of his hat. "Hello." Jay may find some familiar things in him. The mask,the air of calm competence and restrained violence, the way his voice carries despite the bandanna covering his face...

[runningred]

Yeah, he moves like most of the vigilant crowd Jay knows.

He nods towards the bar. "Thirsty? First drink is free. Just ask the bar, she'll sort you out."

[justices_conscience]

The Judge waves a hand vaguely in front of his face. "Not while on duty, thank you."
He gives the sword a brief look, nods in acknowledgment.

[runningred]

Jay notices the nod and flips the sword in his hand, offering it handle first to the Judge. It's beautifully balanced and sharp as hell.

[justices_conscience]

The Judge takes the sword, weighing it in his hand. He doesn't swing or thrust it, merely turning his wrist slowly as he holds it. It's very different from his own sword, a broad-bladed affair, both pointed and hooked at the tip, with a knuckle guard that fans out in a spread of three short barrels.
"It's an excellent sword, as far as I can tell." He hands it back. "Do you use it profesionally?"

[runningred]

Jay reads a lot about the newcomer in the way he handles the sword - skill, professional courtesy, "Not usually. I prefer a pair of 9mms and throwing knives but the body-guards I'm training to face down prefer them. It seemed like the right tool for the job."

He holds a hand out to accept the sword back. "Yours is impressive. Firearm in the handle?"

[justices_conscience]

He nods again but makes no move to draw the sword yet. "Yes. Three barrels, twelve milimeter pinfire. It's pretty much one of a kind." He lays a hand on the pommel fondly. The sword has become as much a symbol of his position as the title.

"They call it the Long Arm." He says, not without humour. The power names have in Malifaux still surprises him sometimes.