milliways_bar | Entries tagged with edward kenway

When Edward strolls into the Bar (he's been on his feet all day, and smells of gunpowder, and does not feel like putting forth the effort for a full swagger), there's a note waiting for him at the Bar. To his surprise, it does not say it's his turn to serve drinks.

"What in the...." He turns the napkin over several times to read and then re-read the message. "Oi! Is there anyone hereabouts who can tell me what this 'scouting' thing is? ... or a 'merit badge'?"

Because apparently someone thinks he ought to be involved in it.

jackdaws_master

A man who's been earning himself a ferocious reputation among the sailors of the Spanish and French navies seldom has time to look for doors to strange taverns. Edward Kenway'd all but forgot about Milliways, truth be told; Milliways, however, hadn't forgotten him. "Well, now," he says as he swaggers in (and it's a fine swagger, aye, he's been working on it a good while now). "Isn't this a step up from Nassau town..."

Of course, that'd be the moment the Bar chooses to point out to him that he left in debt, and that if he expects to see his ship again, he'd best do something about that, and did he mind letting her take a bit of a nap?

So there's a pirate with a faintly disgruntled air about him behind the Bar to-day. As for specials or bargains, well-

"If it's got rum in it, or if it takes coin out of Spain's or France's pocket, it's half price for all comers while I'm here!"

-- there you are.

jackdaws_master

Some people, when they take harm from another ship's guns, grow angry and bitter and swear terrible vengeance upon everyone who ever sailed under that nation's flag.

They are not Edward. Time spent on vengeance is time spent not making money. Vengeance is for people who haven't got an Observatory to find.

"Bugger, this wasn't supposed to be here... well, small harm; if I could get something to wash out a few injuries with, and a proper drink for after, you'd find me grateful."

He figures he'll probably catch those Spaniards another day, and take his chances with them then.

jackdaws_master

There's a great smell of salt and fish and smoke and other things, because on the other side of the door it's the port of Nassau just at the moment; the good ship Jackdaw had to come ashore and take on some more supplies. "Well, it's not the harbourmaster's," says her captain as he walks in, "but-"

There is a napkin at the Bar with his name on it.

"I don't know that I like taking orders from a box made of witchcraft," Edward grumbles, but he heads behind the Bar anyway. "Oi, anything made by the Spaniards or the French is half off tonight while I'm working back here!"

(Chalkboards with specials and mixed drinks are things that happen to other people.)

the_taxman

A gust of harsh, engulfing humidity comes in when the door opens. So does a spare, rawboned man, with an unkempt ponytail and a graying handlebar mustache.

Rust looks around, a little surprised — but the surprise vanishes off his face quickly.

His mouth twists, as though to say, isn’t this a fine joke, and he goes straight to the bar. Within a minute he’s got a Lone Star longneck and a lit Camel Blue.

Might as well drink here as anywhere.

tire_moi_mes_bottes

Lègle de Meaux has had a long and intimate relationship with bad luck and poor decision-making. In this case the decision is the Bar's: Bossuet wanders in, asks for wine, and gets a Happy Hour note instead. Right, then. He picks a cabinet at random and sees what comes out.

The only useful thing is an enormous bag of lemons and limes. From there, with some rummaging and muttering--("Arrack? No, arrack is old-fashioned. No, no, sugar tongs, these are not sugar tongs. Let's have another bottle of rum. Oh, God, are there bandages?")--he finally comes up with a large and innocent-looking bowl of:

PUNCH AU CITRON VERT

Now he'll just...finish bandaging up his fingers and wait to see if anyone wants to try their luck with an order.

jackdaws_master

Speaking of bloody pirates, there's one behind the Bar! Well, not bloody bloody. He did wash after that plantation raid- what, you thought all pirates stuck to attacking boats and hapless shipments of Warehouse technology? There's more money to be found on land than at sea half the time.

Bar doesn't much care so long as she gets her sleep, though, so Edward Kenway's doing his best to look marginally respectable. Which would probably be easier if he weren't assessing his chances of successfully juggling some of the less recognizable bottles. Go order a drink before he drops something.

jackdaws_master

[Out of Milliways: "So long as they're flying King Philip's colours, we'll not offend our own monarch." Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.]

Oh, it's been a good past few days indeed, it really has; for all that he's no closer to the Observatory Edward's at least got started on earning himself a reputation and a fat coin-purse both. And there's a plantation he's heard the crew talking about, with a rumor that Kidd's willing to share the loot with them as'll take the risk alongside him. Profitable sort of promise, that. Well worth having a go, come the morning. For now he'll content himself with a few good drinks and a decent bed to sleep in, and such company as he might find, since none of the lads in Nassau seem to've followed him in.

Their loss, aye?

jackdaws_master

There's going to be some discussion with some old friends of Edward's shortly, but in the meantime he needs to earn back some of the reales he spent here on leather and leatherworking tools. Thus, there's a fair-haired fellow with his hair tied back and his pistols and blades carefully tucked out of sight standing behind the Bar, waiting for the opportunity to serve.

If there's any such thing as a special or a mixed drink for times other than parties, he hasn't yet heard of it. But he'll provide nonetheless, and might well do a discount for the right people or the right story.

electro_kinetic

So there's this thing girls do when they get bored; in Noriko's case it usually extends just to painting her nails or more recently getting a new hole in her face. But today she's sitting at a table with a funny little machine and accoutrements, reading the instruction page for it as she winds the plastic bobbins with yellow and black thread.

In about twenty minutes, she'll have a couple of twists done, trying to braid them.

It's actually not the easiest thing ever.

jackdaws_master

[Out of Milliways:

For some people, finding themselves shackled in the belly of a Spanish ship bound for Seville is a thing that prompts them to look back at their life and their choices, and to figure out where they went wrong. Edward Kenway is not one of these people.

Fortunately for him, that worked out better than it often does.

Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.]

"Is there any- ah, bugger, this place..." Edward Kenway shakes his head, stepping from the bright, warm, humid day on the other side of the door into the relative shadows of Milliways. "Don't suppose you lot sell leathers, do you? This was supposed to be a tanner's place."

And he was supposed to be only stepping aside a moment to buy new leather for a pistol holster before rejoining Adéwalé and showing him to the tavern in Nassau town.

Ah, well, he'll just stop here and prime himself a bit first. No great harm in a breather before the main course of action, aye?

jackdaws_master

[Out of Milliways: In anticipation of getting his reward, Edward must meet the Templars near the docks. Things do not go smoothly. Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.]

"God sink me for this pittance," mutters Edward Kenway as he stalks through the Milliway door. "One thousand reales for those maps. That's- oh, bloody Hell, it's Milliways now, is it? One thing after another, isn't it..."

Well, no help for it but to do here what he'd been planning to do in the first place, and get himself well and proper drunk while he broods on what he was supposed to have been given. Who knows, maybe he'll get a better idea or two here than he would in that Spanish flea-hole.

jackdaws_master

Out of Milliways: Disguised as the Assassin Duncan Walpole, Edward must deliver various maps and a strange crystal cube to the Governor of Havana.

Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.

jackdaws_master

Edward Kenway has precious little patience for anybody who abuses their authority, but his definition of abuse of authority can be more than a little loose. For instance, soldiers of Spain confiscating the cargo of an Englishman who, quite understandably- ran from a tavern after his ship's helmsman apparently started a fight; that might be considered perfectly reasonable by Spanish standards, but to the Englishmen affected by it it's a ridiculously high-handed and gratuitous abuse of power. Especially when part of the cargo taken belongs to Edward rather than to the man whose ship he happened to be sailing. Edward really doesn't like it when people take his things.

Fortunately, Spaniards aren't always the best at keeping track of their own possessions. Edward firmly believes that he should be free to do unto others as they've done unto him, so he relieved the soldiers' captain of his keys, made his way to the fort where things were kept, and... well, if the Spaniards hadn't wanted him to get his papers and that odd crystal thing back, they really should've been paying more attention to who might have been creeping over the fort's walls from the direction of the ocean. Anybody might've gotten in that way, so long as they were sufficiently motivated and capable of scaling walls with a hundred-foot drop to the waves below. Utterly careless of them.

At any rate Edward has his things back, and has made his apologies to the merchant for the loss of his sugar to the Spaniards, and while he was expecting this place to just let him come in and stash a few of his valuables, he's been given a napkin with a note on it. Well, he can live with that.

"Anything with Cuban rum, or any other Spanish stuff in it, is half its usual price for so long as I'm serving tonight," he announces as he comes around to the serving side of the Bar. "And likely any time I've got to serve in future, as well."

No reason to funnel any coin more than necessary back to those bastards in Havana or Madrid, eh?

just_a_chemical

[oom: A room that's not being monitored. Not much to ask, really.]

Eleanor doesn't want to be in anyone's debt, not because that would make her a parasite, but because she doesn't want special treatment. She'll pay her own way, where she can. That's what people do. So here she is, doing her part--all the knowledge and memories of all her deceased citymates she's been infused with? It hasn't just taught her science. Of course she can bartend.

Wouldn't her mother be pleased?

Specials
Sidecar
Sazerac
Roy Rogers
Aviation

She's got a bottle of cola and a sandwich, so she's all set. At least she's offsetting her food costs for today...

jackdaws_master

Out of Milliways: Edward - pretending to be the Assassin Duncan Walpole - is following Stede, in search of a place to stay before his risky meeting with the governor. Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag; warning for one use of an ethnic slur.

The door swings open on the pounding heat of a sunny Caribbean summer's day, and on quite a lot of shouting and surprised voices, mostly Spanish ones. It slams shut after a man in clothes of an older fashion than one normally sees about the place tumbles in and hops to his feet. As he dusts himself off, he looks about him.

"Well. This place again. Seems I wasn't dreaming after all."

jackdaws_master

Out of Milliways:

"Though I will not know your face by Sight, I believe I can recognize the Costume made infamous by your secret Order. Therefore, come to Havana in Haste..."

Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.

jackdaws_master

Out of Milliways: Edward has found himself in a Bit of Trouble.

Spoilers for Assassin's Creed IV: Black Flag.

jump_hella_high

Public appearance days are always hard, especially the court-ordered ones--all that standing around and not swearing in front of kids and seriously is it so hard to have somebody bring decent nachos, these are stale and the cheese cup is like glue but oh, there is still joy in the world. There are bars.

But today a note appears when she goes to get herself her well-earned reward.

"Oh, no no no no no. Three hours today, that's all they made me do, and I'm--" Another note. "You wouldn't. That's, like, a human rights violation or something. Take away a girl's alcohol and--" Another note. "...well, fine. But if I do for you, you do for me, okay? Gimme two cases."

Specials
Brökken Haus Wonderella Lager
She's got her own beer. It's got her picture on the bottle. Good luck getting anything else from her.

Well, all the superheroing money's in the merchandising. Everybody knows that.
[tinytags: wonderella][open allll night]

jackdaws_master

[Out of Milliways, and then not:

First, there was a battle. Then there was a storm, and then a shipwreck, and then there was that bit with the Dutch actor.]

The back door opens and a man in wet but serviceable clothes clearly designed for somewhere far warmer than wintry Scotland pushes his way through. He's not looking his best at the moment, as apart from the drubbing he just took that's left his nose bleeding and out of joint, he really does overall resemble a drowned rat.

(One with a face awfully similar to another patron's, under the bruising, but a drowned rat none-the-less.)

There's a table with chairs at it not so far off, which is more than he'd been expecting. Then again, after the pounding he's taken in the past few hours he's not about to question good fortune; better by far to sit and tend to his aches than to raise a fuss.

almosthonorable

Ben Wade is greeted with a handful of surprises when he enters the bar.

One is delicious.

Another is unexpected, to say the least.

And the last, well. He never minds this particular request so much.

"Happy to," he tells the counter, while he withdraws what's sure to be a spectacular cherry tart from the basket at his elbow. "As long as you don't mind me askin' a favor of you."

A napkin appears.

"Now that's just lewd," he says, smirking. "Flattered as I am, I'll have to say no, ma'am. What I need is for you to hold on to a couple things for me -- if you'd be so kind, of course."

Moments later, Ben's signature black hat and his infamous gun are in Bar's care, where they'll remain for the next few weeks, if not months.

He gives the bartop an affectionate half-smile before rounding the counter, rolling up his shirtsleeves as he goes.

Not long afterward, the specials board bears his uniform scrawl.

specials:
milk punch
bourbon
coffee
bourbon coffee
While he waits for customers, he helps himself to that tart -- which is, predictably, delectable -- and a glass of milk punch.

[ ooc: ~~open for business all day and most of the evening, y'all. have at!~~ and we're closed for the night, as of 11:03 p.m. EST — thanks for tagging, everybody! I'll pick up slows asap tomorrow for all who want 'em. ]

the_gene_genie

He sweeps in tonight like a man on a mission, car keys in his hand, obviously en route to kick some scumbag's head in. So, y'know. Not all that happy about being sidetracked.

Still! Always time for a quick snifter.

'Double Sc....oh, you are jokin' me.'

A napkin informs him that no, actually, she is not. He sighs, and runs his hand over his forehead.

'You are a complete pain in the arse, you know that? Mind you, you are a woman.'

He doesn't bother with a specials menu. Well, does he ever? He just shrugs his coat off, tosses his keys down, and pours himself a pint.

'Come an' get it, then! If you must.'

Bar's open.

After he's finished his drink.

[OOC: Aaaaand, slowtime it is. Thanks, folks! Ace threads, and I'll tag everything up in the morning. <333]

aintnocoonhunt

A one-eyed man, forty years of age and built along the lines of Grover Cleveland, pauses in the door way, his gaze flat as it pans across the room. He wears a dusty black suit of clothes and the floorboards creak beneath his boots. Anyone who has been here for more than a day will recognise his hesitation. A reasonable man would be taken aback in such unfamiliar surroundings, and though not all who know who him would describe him as reasonable, it is clear that he is, indeed, taken aback.

He does not remember there being a saloon in Judge Parker's Courthouse.

He is fairly certain that he would have heard of such a thing, and if he had, he would remember it. A quick glance around reveals the patronage to be far removed from the usual custom of Fort Smith, Arkansas. The wait staff alone gives him obvious pause. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he tugs on his watch chain and squints at it. Doing so reveals the badge on his vest, a silver circle with a star in the middle that proclaims him a 'US Marshal'.

He spends but a moment scrutinising the time. Maybe he is having another one of those fanciful dreams, brought on by Lee's strange cooking, or maybe he's just had a little too much whiskey. The latter is not beyond the realm of possibility. Either way, the vision before him does not seem to fading away. So, as any reasonable man would do in this situation, he makes his way to a barstool.

Let it not be said that Rooster Cogburn turned down the opportunity to drink.