17 October 2017 @ 09:13 am
 
Ellen's not having trouble with the language today, which is just fine by her. She's got enough to deal with at home; there's been news coming up from DC and it's not really the greatest.

Getting a drink first is probably a good idea. She'll stump out to the back later (it's hard to do anything graceful in power armor and she just hasn't felt like taking hers off) and get some range practice in when she gets the chance. She's available either place, though.
 
 
27 September 2017 @ 02:14 pm
 
There are people in Philly who'll repair shoes and boots in exchange for bottlecaps, but the ones Ellen went to clammed up as soon as they saw the Brotherhood emblem on her uniform. Something about not wanting to piss off the ice gangs that wanted them out of the city.

Whatever. Ellen bought some leather and some tools from a much less fussy vendor- one who mentioned a Vault somewhere on the outskirts of the city during the exchange- and is now settled in at a well-lit table, patching her boots up yet again. At this point they are more patch than boot, but, hey, they're water-tight. Or they will be once she finishes today's work.
 
 
21 September 2017 @ 10:10 am
 
Ellen has been busy. Very busy. Post-apocalyptic Philadelphia is not the worst of cities- so far as she knows that distinction goes to Pittsburgh- but it's... well, it's still a post-apocalyptic city run by ice gangs and weirdoes and it's got mutant hippos in the rivers and there is a persistent legend that people don't try to cross the river because plants on the other side will eat them. And in her experience you can't deny that possibility. So she's been busy.

But the door opened to the Bar today, and she is grateful for any chance to be somewhere that does not smell like the shores of the Schuykill, and she will apologize to you if the attempts she has made at cleaning up and changing into her old blue Vault suit with the 101 across the back have not been enough to get the reek entirely gone. Just let her have her beer in the process, okay?
 
 
10 July 2017 @ 01:42 pm
 
Ellen slips into the Bar with a half-armored Dogmeat at her heels. She almost didn't get the door open; there were too many people and too many robots milling around back home, and she's never been able to get to Milliways with people of her own world paying attention close by. Fortunately, no one was looking her way this time. "Good boy," she says to Dogmeat. "Let's see if we can't get that armor of yours adjusted before we go back. Right now I just want a drink."

Dogmeat whufs. Ellen's sentence did not contain the word food and therefore is not of any particular interest, but you never really know.
 
 
26 June 2017 @ 12:03 pm
 
It's noon. Or as close to noon as the asteroid on which Milliways was built ever gets. And as the not quite real sun heaves itself to directly overhead, the change sweeps over the building, inside and out. The entire Bar- walls, floor, furniture, everything- breaks out in a profusion of Legos, Capselas, Meccanoblox, and every other construction toy imaginable. And Ellen, who had been practicing hitting straw-stuffed mannequins with a hockey stick for reasons of her own, finds herself dropped directly behind the Bar. A vidwindow pops up in front of her, and in front of every other patron to enter:

Hello! Welcome to Milliways. Today, Milliways marks the Cybertronian holiday of Cubefall, the anniversary of the day upon which the Allspark first landed on the rocky world that would become Cybertron. Would you like to sample some possible reconfigurations? (y/n)

Ellen's has the additional line:

Since we're a bit low on Cybertronian patrons this year, you got nominated to do the explaining.

Ellen would say something about this, but she's got vidwindows popping up in front of her. And while some of them are okay, well...
Vidwindows! Yay! )
"The Genghis Khan thing is starting to get old, you know."
 
 
07 June 2017 @ 03:00 pm
 
It smells like something really unspeakable for a moment as the remarkably short but heavily power-armored figure clanks through the Milliways door. Then the door closes and Ellen removes her helmet and all the reek you get in a post-apocalyptic version of the Schuykill River shoreline dies away. "Bar," says Ellen, "I need something I can wipe down with and then I need a drink before I can even think of getting out of this armor. There were hippos today."

Possibly this accounts for some of the newer gashes and impact marks on her armor. It's hard to say.

At least she's got a reinforced chair to sit back in and take a drink and a few breaths.


[tinytag: Baze Malbus]
 
 
13 April 2017 @ 02:46 pm
 
Tavi's still in armor when he walks in today--as is usual these days, said armor is streaked by sickly green wax. He's looking pretty tired, too, which is why his first stop is the Bar itself for a quiet conversation and brief cup of coffee.

Then he pops out and upstairs briefly, and when he comes back down he's finally out of armor for the first time in twelve hours, and at least his face and hands are cleaner. He makes his way to a booth, the ubiquitous Papers In Hand. Milliways is rarely a break from work, for him: it's a means to get all his work done without constantly multitasking or losing sleep or food.

Today, though, he's just reading letters and is visibly more relaxed as he starts making his way through a nice solid meal--at least until a very loud "What?!" rings out and then a thump as his head meets the surface of the table.

Someone close enough to listen in might also pick up a surprisingly plaintive, "Someone could have told me!"

It's a Day.
 
 
24 January 2017 @ 06:58 pm
 
Holtzmann feels she is due a celebratory dinner. Today's dumpster diving was very productive, and as a bonus she found a pair of bright electric blue fingerless gloves that are only just a little too big. However, she has given herself quite a lot of work with this haul, so she settles for a celebratory cup of coffee and a bag of potato chips instead. She takes her meal of dubious nutritional content and her haul to one of the open tables and sets to work - booted feet up on the table, haul spread out around her, wire-strippers and screwdriver at hand.

Just the recipe for an awesome night right here.
 
 
20 January 2017 @ 11:46 am
Last night was odd. Wilford needs about six more hours of morning before he thinks he'll even start to feel human. He woke up in his dressing room (which means he passed out at some point), to find it a disaster, and nope. This is not what he wants to deal with right now.

As soon as he finds Milliways, Wilford wanders behind the Bar and finds the remote for the TV, and finds a local news channel. And the headline he finds* goes a little bit of the way into jumpstarting his attention span.

So it's right about now that he notices the napkin on the bar. Because of course it's there.

Specials:

Red Death
Black Death
Death Sentence
Creeping Death


With that done, Wilford leans against the bar to watch the news.


*[ooc: both links mildly nsfw; drugs, violence, crude humour. Open until the next Happy Hour post. Threadhopping encouraged!]
 
 
20 January 2017 @ 02:30 pm
 
With a handful of exceptions, Ellen knows, every Vault built by Vault-Tec had at least one experimental condition imposed upon its residents. 101 had the absolute authority of the Overseer and the absolute certainty that no one was allowed to leave. 87 had its FEV tests. 108 had its clones. (She still can't hear the name 'Gary' without a faint little shudder down her spine. Thanks, Vault-Tec.)

Some careful bargaining and skillful discussion with the locals allowed Ellen to get her hand on a list of Vaults said to be located in and around the Philadelphia area today. She makes her way into Milliways today with the list in hand and asks the nearest rat for a notepad.

Compared to the places she's been in the Capital Wasteland, 'they're into chickens' seems like such a very minor thing to dominate people's perceptions of a particular Vault, and yet....

She's writing down possible interpretations of statements like that, and doodling the occasional farm animal or gear-shaped door. She's also botherable, if you like.
 
 
13 January 2017 @ 11:55 am
 
In the early morning, a new door appears and instantly flies open, letting in a burst of noise, a flash of Mediterranean sunlight, a bit of dust, and two men, who fly through the door and hit the ground in a tangled heap. Much muttering and grumbling ensues, and as they rise and begin to walk they are so wrapped up in a volley of if you had just listened and if you'd only said that it takes colliding with the bar to draw their attention to their surroundings.

"Uh..." says one, and "Where...?" says the other-- and their heads snap in unison back towards the bar as a copy of the welcome pamphlet appears. They seize upon it and huddle over it, and quickly fall to close and quiet conversation* about its contents, and what to make of them. Are you thinking what I'm thinking? The murmuring goes on for quiet a while. (* so close and quiet, in fact, and in such a dark Secret-Plotty-Plotting corner, that no one can see or hear them as they scheme.)

And then it stops.

"We'll need some supplies," says one.

"Leave that to me," says the other. "You work on distracting the...uh...furniture."

Distracting the furniture seems to mean cosying up to the Bar with a guitar (lute? guitarlute? luitar? highly authentic sixteenth-century stringed instrument?) and setting in to sing her praises. Supplies seems to mean pulling a Somber Black Robe from a bag, making a scramble-and-flourish with a sheet of parchment and a pot of paint--it's amazing what all you can fit into a good bag--and the appearance of the following sign:

BILLS DUE


There's a lot of fine print after that, but a few phrases stand out large and underlined: As per the orders of the Landlord, due immediately, collections officers. And...no exceptions.

The man in the Somber Black Robe sets himself up with his Very Official Sign at a table.

Looks like it's time to pay up, folks.




((Wait what are tabs actually due? Absolutely not! If it's not fun to play with this plot, ignore it and it'll be gone in a couple of days. But we hope you will enjoy a little light mayhem. Try cutting a deal!

One note - with mod approval, Bar is sufficiently beguiled by these two that she won't tell on them. If your character asks Bar whether they're really from the Landlord, she either won't answer or will give you something non-committal. Security will be onto these guys in a couple of days.))


((oof, sorry if i'm slow today, the plague that's been trashing my house is still kicking my butt))
 
 
09 January 2017 @ 11:18 am
 
Ellen's been busy in Philly. There's been a lot of work to do in the area the locals insist on calling the Suicide Zone, and there've been a couple of forays by ice gangers into the possibility of challenge fights with various Brotherhood members. There's been meetings, long, unpleasant meetings, with the Friends over water infrastructure and the use of weaponry to defend it. And there's been messages from the Capital about Elder Lyons, only a handful of which have been good.

It's been a hairy sort of time.

You'll understand, we hope, about Ellen and Dogmeat clanking into the Bar- both of them in armor, although Dogmeat's is more tactical and less powered- and heading straight for the first available table, rather than stopping to look at any wanted posters or decorations or anything like that. Sometimes you just want to get away from work and get an alcoholic beverage from a rat.
 
 
26 December 2016 @ 11:07 pm
At some point over local Christmas, the door went briefly swish-y. Twice. There were then a handful of gifts left with Bar.

The gift giver of an ensign will be back, say true. At least, she will if her door ever decides to stay stable for more than ten minutes at a time...!
 
 
28 November 2016 @ 10:21 am
 
It's quiet in Philadelphia at the moment, so Ellen's taking the opportunity to step out without worrying that she'll return to people running breakneck around the new Brotherhood headquarters in town. Yes, she's aware of how time works between the Bar and home, but it's still something she worries about even if it is a needless sort of worry.

Right now she's sorting through a stack of vinyl records of varying ages. Most of them give the impression of being from the mid-twentieth century, and being of American origin, but there are a few she's set aside for her own utter failure to recognize the languages or styles involved. Hopefully she can get someone here to check those over for her.



[OOC: my apologies if I dropped a thread with you. Ping me via reply here or via direct message if we have a thread you want to continue, or we can start a whole new interaction in this post!]
 
 
22 November 2016 @ 03:32 pm
 Marcus walked in the bar area and he was wearing his signature black leather coat, with a few yellow stripes on it and began to write the daily specials of the night.

I'm a cyborg terminator,

so tonight's special is tastes of War, machines and the Human Resistance. 

For all you folks who like beer:

A wide selection of bitter IPAs
Spicy beers
Lucifer 
and more

Marcus rolls his fingers around a empty beer glass as he bends along the side. "Hope this bartending shift isn't as boring it's made out to be."

And for your wine

We got some dessert wines
and some super dry wines


 
 
Current Mood: calm
 
 
03 November 2016 @ 02:55 pm
 
"Who even needs that many teeth?" Ellen mutters to herself as she walks through the door, Dogmeat at her heels. She passes a rat and murmurs a request for lunch before settling down at her table and opening up a sack.

Full of sets of false teeth. Some of them are carved from wood, some from stone, some from some kind of polymer or resin- but it's basically a big bag of teeth.

Gonna be an interesting lunch.




(OOC: I'm going out for dinner and a movie after about 5 PM EST, but i'll pick up and tag back when I can!)
 
 
17 October 2016 @ 01:15 pm
 
Sasha Nein comes into the Bar carrying a football helmet and a Nerf gun. Well, they used to be a football helmet and a Nerf gun. The helmet has purple crystals glued all over it in careful patterns (medically trained patrons might recognize a map of the principal sulci of the human brain) and a fat bundle of wires comes out of one ear hole and plugs into the back of the gun. The modifications to the gun itself are less obvious, except that it appears to have a feeder full of playing card-like objects attached next to the usual drum of Nerf darts.

He writes on a slip of paper: I'm ready when you are. N. and puts it on the bar, saying "Please see that Ellen Park gets this."

Then he gets a coffee and a döner kebab and settles in to people-watch while waiting.

[He has plans with [personal profile] aaaaaaaagh_sky, but this post is open to all.]
 
 
06 October 2016 @ 11:29 am
 
Ellen stonks her way into the Bar in power armor, pausing just inside the door to take off her helmet and let Dogmeat through with her. After securing a whiteboard and marker from the Bar she picks out a table and settles in. A few minutes later she sets up the whiteboard; the neatly printed text on it reads:

Will Pay Bottlecaps, Pre-War Money, Or Barter
In Exchange For Accurate, Repeatable Way Of Making Cheez
Not Cheese
Cheez
We Already Know How To Make Cheese


She then settles back and signals a rat; it's been a long day in Philadelphia and she could use a drink while she waits.
 
 
30 September 2016 @ 11:43 am
 
There's a lot going on back in Philly and Ellen is glad for about half of it. What is not going on back in Philly, despite her best efforts, is anything resembling rest or recuperation.

Milliways isn't what you'd call restful, but you can at least recuperate there without too much interference. Even if you did wind up bringing a cardboard box of robot parts with you to pick over in front of the fireplace and assess for future usefulness, it still counts.

(Dogmeat doesn't have anything to recuperate from, and is simply keeping his human company.)
 
 
18 September 2016 @ 02:15 pm
 
The front door cracks open, just a little. The racket of the city filters through for a few minutes...

And then so does a curious physicist.

See, she could have sworn there wasn't a door behind that dumpster.

(There may have been some smells filtering through for a few minutes too, sorry about that)

Holtzmann considers this new discovery, eyeing the room at large.

Pro: There appears to be a distinct lack of angry ghosts, which is good, since she doesn't have her gear (which is clearly an oversight, she'll have to fix that).

Con: Secret doorway didn't lead to Narnia. Boo.