milliways_bar | Entries tagged with death (pterry)

Death is sitting at the bar, eating a curry.

Delicious curry.

imitatethesun

Harry Plantagenet, Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Earl of Chester, Duke of Aquitaine, Duke of Lancaster, and High Sheriff of Cornwall, is in the bar. Currently he's lazing at the bar itself--all those titles weigh on a man.

Or they would if Hal were the sort of man to care one whit about the duties of the offices to which he belongs, which currently he really doesn't. (Not that he ever has.) As it stands he's busying himself with a study of Milliways' clientele and of cup of drink in his hand.

He's certainly interruptible.

Death comes into the bar from the lake door, after leaving Binky in the stables. He walks through the work directly to the bar and sits down.

I would like a curry, please.

And he gets one.

Come say hi!

Death, and three of his friends, ride past the observation window.

On the outside.

He pauses long enough to wave.

helpful-squid.livejournal.com

The door slides open, briefly revealing the interior of the UNSC heavy cruiser Spark In Darkness. A Huragok floats idly through, and the door closes. As the creature approaches the Bar a note pops up.

Well, it was only a matter of time, really. Vergil floats over the Bar, dips down behind it, and comes up with a slate and several pieces of chalk.

Hello
I am called Vergil
I am a Huragok
I understand English, but communicate in sign language
And tonight I am tending the Bar.

Specials

Pink Beaner
Pink Heart
Purple Heart
Blue Moon
Golden Glow Punch (non-alcoholic)

Enjoy!

It eyes the sign, twitters to itself in satisfaction, and floats to one side to wait for orders.

[Tinytag: Valentine's Day Plot]

Death is out by the stables, brushing down his horse, which occasionally has a fleeting visit here and still has his stall.

It's a very real, very alive white warhorse stallion, who stands patiently while his master finishing grooming. It'd be a perfectly normal situatin oif the master wasn't a seven foot skeleton.

It is a very busy time of year for Death, who makes a point of turning up to every single one of his appointments promptly and without complaint, no matter what the weather. But this rush only means it's all the more important that the anthropomorphic personification takes time out to refresh his capacities and get some 'downtime'.

The skeleton in question has asked the Bar if she had any recommendations for something relaxing that humans do, and she rewarded him with two pointed sticks and a skein of black yarn. Death is now sitting at a table with a book on knitting propped open while he attempts to master the stitch.

IN THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR, ONCE AROUND THE... OH BUGGER

He's not doing so well at it.

crabbycustomer

A grey, horned, thirteen year old alien climbs up on the bartop.

"ATTENTION DEGENERATE HUMAN MOUTHBREATHERS AND ASSOCIATED NONHUMAN BAR HANGERS ON LOUNGING AROUND THE VICINITY. I AM NOW YOUR LEADER, IN THE ADMITTEDLY LIMITED SENSE THAT I AM IN CHARGE OF DISPENSING THE LIQUID REFRESHMENT YOU ALL CRAVE. I WILL BE A WRATHFUL AND MERCILESS ALCOHOLIC GOD. YOU WILL ALL ASSEMBLE IN AN ORDERLY FASHION AND YOU WILL GET WHAT YOU GET. REQUESTS WILL BE BENEFICIENTLY CONSIDERED BUT THERE WILL BE NO APPEALS."

In other words, you are limited to what he knows how to make.

"IN ANOTHER EXAMPLE OF MY INFINITE MAGNANIMITY AND IN A FOOLISH, HOPELESS ANTICIPATION THAT YOU MAY COOPERATE, I HAVE ASSEMBLED A FEW RECOMMENDATIONS FOR YOU TO CONSIDER TO STREAMLINE AND SIMPLIFY EVERYONE'S EXPERIENCE. I FULLY EXPECT YOU ALL TO IGNORE ALL INSTRUCTIONS AND SPLIT MY BULGE ALL NIGHT LONG, SO DON'T THINK YOU'RE ON TO ANYTHING NEW BY BEING A STUPID ASSHOLE."

He finds some grey chalk.

FUCK YOU
SHUT THE HELL UP
DIRTY BASTARD

"RELATIONSHIP ADVICE IS ALSO AVAILABLE AS A FREE SERVICE OUT OF THE GOODNESS OF MY VESTIGIAL ALTRUISM NODE."

This should go well.

There is a perfectly normal human male sitting at the bar. He has a White Russian in front of him gut he hasn't touched it yet.

His hand, you see, is fascinating. He keeps prodding it.

There is a skeleton at the Bar, clothed in a robe of Absolute Dark and accompanying by a scythe so sharp it glows blue where the very atoms of the air are being split - if it were open.

The scythe is folded shut and leans against the Bar. The robe's hood is pushed back and the shiny white cranium shines under the bar's lighting.

He's eating a curry.

Death is about to order a drink, when he is greeted with a napkin instead. He reads it.

Very well. Sleep is good for the living.

He's just walking around to the other side when another napkin appears, the writing on which is more obscure, due to being written by someone about to go to sleep.

Pants are required.

It's accompanied by something to rectify this.

If you can stand to have your Happy Hour served by a skeleton in white and red polka dot boxer shorts, you have these to choose from:

SPECIALS
Red Death
Virulent Death
Death by Chocolate
any drink with your own name in it half price.

[OOC: YAY! OK guys, I'm dead of late now. Will pick up slowtimes. ILU GOODNITE]

Death is at the bar, where he's just finished a drink. He is currently twirling the umbrella from that drink between two manual phalanges, while he contemplates whether or not he wants a second.

So just normal drinker-at-a-bar behaviour, really.

[Car Keys Bait for Adrian Shephard. But open to anyone who wants to have a conversation with a skeleton.]

It doesn't take long, even for him, to gauge the general mood of the place.

I didn't do it.

shelley_winters

Shelley appears to have been shot. This is both irritating and inconvenient.

However, she will allow that despite the waiting period, the afterlife is acceptable, the company is pleasant enough, and her wardrobe is similar enough to her normal one as to cause no problems, despite the fact that it leans towards red and black - neither of which are her favourite colour. (Redheads should not wear red a lot, she feels.)

What is causing her consternation is the sudden appearance of a place she has not seen in over a year, and had almost thought she never would again.

You'd be excused for thinking she'd never been here before - let alone lived here - as she stands frozen in the doorway, staring about.

[OOC: Have gone for bedtimes. Slowtimes, as are placeholder tags, are most welcome! ♥]

superplumber.livejournal.com

IT'S-A HIM, MARIO!

He is currently running around the bar, chasing a mushroom.

He needs that HP, dammit.

There is a litter of kittens on a table, most of which are so tiny that their eyes haven't opened yet. They're forming a soft, mewing pile of fur, looking for the warmth of a mother that isn't there.

What is there is a saucer of warm cat's milk, into which is occasionally dipped a polished white finger bone before it's held out for one or more of the babies to feed from. Another handful of phalanges is gently petting various heads in a comforting way.

Death doesn't usually get involved in his work, but he does so like cats.

[Car Kays bait for: Mother Nature, Lorne the Demon and Gabriel]

Death is in the bar. With a candlestick.

Not with a candlestick, per se, but there's a candlestick on his table. Also wine, and curry.

Yeah, Death's having a candlelit supper for one.

Life's hard, for an old bachelor.

[The three little tags: Sabriel, The Russian Astronaut, Stark]

goodolefuntime.livejournal.com

Hurley sits at the bar, staring at the door back to the island.

Is he allowed to be just 'Hey guys, I found a magic bar in my cave, lets all go get a meal and a shower!'? Or... how does he explain how he suddenly seems to have showered?

Hurley suddenly realizes he has to keep 'magic bar in my cave' a secret.

And he's going to need to get dirty as soon as he gets back.

Which should probably be soon.

Since they might be worried about how long he's been gone.

Crap.

Hurley pouts and eats a leg of fried chicken. You know, for breakfast.

not_a_hologram

It turns out that Al has a lot more time on his hands now that he doesn't have Tina on them. Not that he's complaining, mind you--her voice could take the paint off a battleship from half a mile away. He is very happy to be done with her again.

While it lasts, anyway.

In the meantime, he is settled in at a table near the bar, enjoying a cigar and some coffee. His only plans for the evening involve the sign placed before him on the table, that reads simply: Advice

Go on, ask him anything. He's probably got an answer. Either way, it's free.

Cower brief mortals, for lo, Death himself has arrived in the Bar at the end of the universe.

The Pale Rider is sitting at a table near the edge, affording him a view of the bar, with a wide spread of Klatchian spicy food in front of him.

He's also looking around for a napkin, because he had chutney on his fingers.

Death turned up at the Bar expecting to get a drink, only to discover the bar was asleep and the bartender curiously absent. This wasn't a good thing. Then, it occurred to him that maybe he could learn about humanity by talking to people. And who do people talk to if not their bartenders?

So Death has decided to show a bit of initiative, and is now behind the bar.

The specials board has no chalk on it, but in embossed silver, it now reads:

Specials
Mexical
Blavod
White Russian

They're just drinks he likes.

oneman_onevote

[OOM: In which Havelock Vetinari does his job.

Or.... somebody's job, anyhow.]

Death sits at the end of the bar, nursing a long drink and surveying the room.

He is, as always, watching the mortals with an intent to learn.

hapan-heiress.livejournal.com

[OOM: Allana and Sarah Jane host a tea party. Lots of...interesting people show up!]

{millitimed to...before SJS finds out she's having a baby Bond}

He's by the fireplace today on one of those very comfortable armchairs. His feet are crossed up on the coffee table and there's a copy of the Times open over his face. The tool of his trade is resting against the chair back, in easy reach for when he gets up.

It's a very odd position to find a skeleton in, but this is Milliways, after all.

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