milliways_bar | Entries tagged with sameth

Sameth has taken over a booth and has bits and pieces of various clockwork creatures in front of him. Wings that look similar to a dragonfly, the form of a person and his main project while he hasn't fully figured out the shape yet, but he's working on a joint that could be a knuckle. His spiced wine has gone cold as he's forgotten about it.

makesthings

Sameth's been stuck with various ideas, Milliways appearing when he's heading somewhere else works well. At first he'd been at a table but then ended up on a couch watching a type of rugby that he's never seen before.

Soon he's forgotten his project worries and is amazed and cheering the matches on. Sometimes he misses being part of a team at Somersby, sparring with the guards isn't the same at all. At some point, he gets a rat to bring him some chips and an ale.

makesthings

Sameth enters with a sheaf of papers that he takes up to Bar and starts a conversation with her about converting his notes into something that Fives can use. Partway through the conversation, a datapad appears with projections of the taken apart droid hand, diagrams of Lirael's hand and Sameth starts manipulating the image. He didn't realize that this kind of view was possible and soon he's taking notes on parchment while also playing with the projection.

At a later point, there's a note for Fives along with the datachip full of information. ( Fives )

5ame_heart

The bar is up one clone, still recovering from surgery and a night in the bacta tank.

Really, the only reason Fives limps into the bar today is to get away from Echo and his constant attempts to boost morale and be supportive and generally make Fives feel awful for running off on his own like that. He's aware that he runs the risk of people here making a fuss, but his back hurts again and he'd rather bee fussed over somewhere where there's cinnamon rolls and media to watch.

Fortunately, the light cloth scrub top he's wearing over his injured back with his usual black pants, don't make him look too much like he's wandered in from a medbay.

He makes a direct line towards the fireplaces, and the longest couch he can find, so he can at least lie down without bending his torso, and when a rat comes over he just asks for his feed interface and something he can drink from the bottle without sitting up.

See? He's fine.

makesthings

Sameth had been on his way to the forge when he looked over at the lake and it reminded him of the coast around Belisaere and he felt oddly homesick. So he went into the Bar to get fishing gear, including a picnic basket then set up on the dock, he couldn't find a boat. She even gave him a hat, the straw boater kind that he used to wear in Ancelstierre and he's set up with one of the chairs from the garden.

By the time the sun goes down, he has a few fish in his creel, and has made friends with the turtleducks. He doesn't go in until the sun's completely set and then he stops by the fire to warm up and take notes from the datapad that Fives gave him.

(OOC: Catch him going out, fishing or inside.)

makesthings

Sameth's in the forge, sorting through some of the smaller tools that he used to use. Nothing's too out of order but he knows it could be better, so he's seated and going over hammers and various sized fasteners.

Its the kind of work that makes the forge nicer to work in and doesn't require too much thought. He knows that Lirael isn't completely happy with her hand but she hasn't told him what's wrong yet, he hopes she does soon. Having something he made not work the best way always nags at him.

Later, he'll find his way into the Bar and by the counter enjoy a spiced wine and fish and chips that remind him of Ancelstierre.

(OOC: Find him inside or out at the forge.)

makesthings

Sameth has taken over a table and covered it with the pieces of various kitchen gadgets. He never knew there could be so many kinds of wafflemakers or ways to make sandwiches.

At the moment, he has an all in one egg sandwich maker taken apart and he's trying to figure out the non-stick coating.

configuration_birdwatcher

It's still summer at the Watchpoint. In Milliways, however, the weather has become distinctly cooler and the deciduous trees are changing colour and shedding their leaves. Bastion's developed a habit of spending days at a time in the Bar and its grounds, because there are few consequences for doing so apart from needing to top up their battery occasionally and it has a neverending supply of mostly harmless pursuits to attempt; the faster passage of time in the bar makes the summer of 2077 seem endless.

Changing seasons aren't new to them. Even during the war they fought year-round in a temperate climate, and after reactivation they lived in the wilderness for more than a decade. What is new is the idea of using seasonal terrain elements for recreation. Yesterday at lunchtime, Tracer had come in from repairing a satellite uplink and working in the midday heat apparently inspired her to rhapsodise about the things she wanted to do when it was fall again. Some of them seemed either very straightforwardly temperature-linked or totally opaque in their connection to autumn, but she'd mentioned 'walking on crunchy leaves', which was intriguing.

So now there's an omnic who's found a large patch of fallen leaves under some trees in the general vicinity of the lake. They're experimentally frolicking through them, dry leaves tumbling around their knees, and Ganymede is taking this as an opportunity to perch on a stump nearby and eat worms.

(OOC: Millitimed to before George's D&D post. Slowtimes until late tonight PST, I'm going to a Halloween party.)

holdingacat

There's a faint crackling overhead, the sound of a self-rigged sound board patching into the bar's sound system. And them comes a voice - a deep voice, a confident voice, a comforting voice as the fall day darkens early into night.

( Milliways Pirate Radio )

Then suddenly there's a soft thump of Cecil disconnecting from the bar's system.

(OOC: As before, this broadcast is 100% optional, as the bar is weird and dimensions change and time is weirder so... enjoy! Or avoid, whichever works better for you. :D)

makesthings

One of the trickier parts of helping the Southerlings move to the Old Kingdom is knowing how to teach them to trust the Charter. Perimeter guards have been helpful as the ones from Ancelstierre had to learn, but today nothing seems to be working as it might. Also the weather turned, a fierce and cold storm while he was showing a small group a Charter stone. He pushes open the door and the wind howls in with him as he sees this isn't the guard tower he's been staying in.

Sameth doesn't know how long its been in Milliways, he knows time is strange and walks to the counter, one hand resting on his sword hilt. At the counter, he orders warm spiced wine and Bar provides a bowl of soup and bread. Then he finds a spot near the fire to dry off and see if anyone he knows is around.

visible_sariel

At some point during the local holiday, Sariel finds a door long enough to leave gifts for River Tam, Leela Sevateem, Captain Kirk, Dale Harding, Turanga Leela, Ellen Park, Charles Xavier, Yrael, Will Scarlett, and Sameth.

She'll be in again shortly.

student_of_impossibility

The door opens to the muffled sound of a woman’s voice and the sound of a fussing baby. “No, no, I’ll check—”

Tavi is standing in the doorway, beard neatly trimmed and the light from the Bar glittering off both the plain steel band on his head and his tunic—an article of clothing that is literally cloth-of-gold and covered in gemstones, mostly of the sapphire, ruby, and diamond varieties. He is also, in the arm not holding the door open, carrying the aforementioned fussing infant.

From somewhere behind him comes another muffled comment (’Aleran?’) as he stares at the Bar for a long, silent moment, and then looks down at himself. “. . . What? No, it’s nothing,” he calls over his shoulder absently, then looks back up for another thoughtful pause.

“No.”

The door slams shut again.

About thirty seconds later it opens. “… working for two, just go to sleep. I’ll get him settled,” Tavi is saying as he shoves the door open with his shoulder. Not in anything fancier than (admittedly high-quality) linen, today, and the steel circlet’s missing too. Baby is definitely with him, though, and basically still. He’s halfway in by the time he realizes this is the Bar, and after a visible moment of hesitation lets the door close.

He makes his way to the Bar. “You’d better not mess up his sleep schedule,” he tells the counter sternly. “If you do, I am not responsible for Kitai’s actions. And can you not make a habit of replacing the nursery, please?”

Napkin.

“… Yes.” He smiles softly. “He’ll be very happy one day to be meeting you, too.”

Milliways, meet Gaius Desiderius Tavarus.

makesthings

Sameth's wiping his face with his shirt as he's just come from the forge. Milliways means he can get something to eat and drink without having to properly clean up. At the counter, he gets a napkin and shifts behind the counter where first he cleans off a little more at the sink then pulls out the cocktail book.

Specials
Spiced Wine
Ginger Fire
Iron Dream
What projects are you working on?

Then he sits down with a spiced wine and some bread and cheese to see who's around. He's been so busy with the Southerlings and then his work that he feels like its been a while since he's been in.

(OOC: Open until the next Happy Hour goes up or it scrolls. Slightly inspired by my discovering Forged in Fire and creative smiths.)

fieryface

[oom (and then not): Jamie has a nightmare.]

It's been a while since the Bar has been set upon by this pair of boisterous Scottish boys, but here they are-- James still looking pale and sleepy-eyed, but this seems to have no effect on the volume at which he is laughing at whatever (probably filthy) joke William just told. Perhaps this is when their lordly background shows the most: their complete lack of self consciousness in taking up space, in bursting into a room and making as much noise as they please.

[ooc: two lads, one post! feel free to request both or either]

makesthings

Sameth enters carrying various lists for helping the Southerlings and adjusts his surcoat. There's so much to do, but there's always a lot to do, it would be strange if there wasn't anything. When he sits down at the counter and shifts his sword from habit, a napkin appears and he says, "Yes, I'd be happy to."

Then he goes behind the counter and pulls out the cocktail book as he considers recipes.

Specials
Spiced Wine
Promised Land Martini
Crown Float

Once they're up, he makes himself a spiced wine and as he watches the counter, starts making some sketches on the back of one of his lists for improving Lirael's hand.

(OOC: This week, I read the newest book of Sam's canon. Help me share the happy new canon feeling.)

bprd_agent_red

Hellboy is bored. Which is a dangerous thing when you're him and you live in a classified government underground bunker full of top secret things that not only go boom, but also go bump in the night.

He's on his way to see just what he can get into when Milliways appears behind a secure door instead of the storage room he was looking for. He mulls it over for a moment, then shrugs and steps in, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, I'm bored," he informs the counter when he reaches it. She promptly responds with a napkin and Red grins.

"Yeah? Sure, I'll do it."

Bar goes to sleep and Red steps behind the counter, making up a specials board and setting it up before throwing a towel over his shoulder classic barkeep style.

SPECIALS:
Umbrella Drinks

It's cold in Jersey, so he figures something beach-y is in order. That, and Red's never tried his hand at cocktails before.

student_of_impossibility

It has been quite some time since Tavi was last around.

For Tavi as well as for the Bar, actually--although only weeks for him, instead of months. Still, those weeks made quite the difference, as the Tavi who enters is completely clean, beard trimmed, no visibly healing wounds, and even not in armor. Heck, he's not even in a uniform today, but deep red silk with blue trim (and if it still looks vaguely military, well, habits are hard to break).

He's even whistling a little. This? This is a good mood.

He's idly twirling a plain band of steel around his arm as he enters, carrying a stack of papers, and the moment he realizes he's in Milliways he smiles broadly and walks up to the front for a conversation with the Bar.

Pretty soon he's installed at the end of it, ignoring most of the papers he brought (under his handy new steel paper weight!) in favor of reading and re-reading something with quite evident satisfaction.

Oh yeah, and there's a notice up at the Bar.

Hello, Milliways.
Please enjoy free drinks and fruit tarts for the day.

[ooc: hi all! been a while. i'll be really, really slow because of a larp, but this really did want to happen.]

mnt_mike

*(offer not valid for turkeys)

Did you see that?
Just a little bit of movement in the corner of your eye.
Wait...there it is again!
What is that?
Is...is that a hand print made to look like...a turkey?

You bet your sweet bippy it is!
Because Thanksgiving is Mike's favorite holiday.
Or at very least it's tied for first on his list of favorite holidays.

If one were so inclined, one could investigate the hand turkeys further.
Upon investigation one might just realize that they create a path that leads out of the Bar proper and in the direction of the Caribbean Outlet.

There, in the warm sand, several tables have been set up.
They're decorated for the season, with literal cornucopias and paper turkeys.

(Lake Rule apply. Tag in, tag often.

just_cant_lose

If Jim were a nicer man, he might be more appreciative of the things people have done here to keep him entertained. Take the latest thing; it was completely weird squeezing the Charter skin on, even weirder to find he could fly at the end of it and the most weird that he'd find himself desperate enough to resort to this at all.

Long story short, there's a magpie flying around the bar tonight. It seems mostly friendly as long as you don't object to it dive-bombing your head, stealing your food, or trying to drag shiny objects out of your pocket. It sings well, though! And...constantly. Loudly. Sometimes right into the ear of whomever it's taken a liking to.

He likes flying, though. There's definitely an hour well-spent getting a good view of the grounds, testing how high he can go (not high enough, damnit), and enjoying himself for once.

A decidedly earthbound Jim can be found in the kitchen later. There was a certain conversation with X, a fair amount of silent exasperation, a lot of stubborn refusal, and finally a compromise reached wherein he finds himself in here, washing dishes for the evening. Eh. It gives him something to do with his hands while his mind designs a moonbase. He can deal, and it helps distract from the nagging feeling that he's forgotten something. Jim never forgets things. It's weird, and he doesn't like it.

[OOC: Open all weekend! Feel free to be harassed by a magpie anywhere around the place, or find him in the kitchen.]

freedom_is_grey

Ysalwen sweeps through the door, arms loaded down with maps and ancient scrolls.

" -- can have gone missing? They're not the sort to -- unless they ran. But what would make darkspawn run?"

Behind her Liranan yips, then darts past her to clear a chair out of her path.

"And the last message from Nathaniel was a week ago, so something is definitely -- oh."

Someone has just realized whoever she was talking to did not follow her into Milliways.

Shocking.

"Well, at least this will give me more time to figure out what we ought to be doing."

Liranan barks his enthusiastic agreement, then begins clearing a path for her toward a corner table.

"Thank you," she says, dropping down her maps and scrolls, unrolling them all and weighting the edges down with a few conjured stones. Then she sets up her computer-tablet-book, holographically projecting Nathaniel's known path, the rendezvous point, and a second track, with a large area circled in bright red.

"Hmm. Where would either of them have gone next?"

She may be here for some time.

not_the_second

The door flies open and Mr Segundus rushes in and quickly shuts it behind him with the slightly frantic speed of one who has longed to find a moment alone and finally has managed to slip away. He scarcely, therefore, seems to notice what room he has stepped into: he stands a moment with his hand upon the knob, head bowed and eyes closed, sitting in some private thought for a moment.

Then he turns, and he looked unusually bright-eyed, a flush in his generally pale cheeks. Only then does he see the room, and his eyes go wide.

"Oh!" he says softly. "This place!"

One might guess, from his manner, though only a few months have passed in Milliways since last he was seen here, it has been rather longer on the other side of Mr Segundus's door.

[ooc: I'm bumping Mr Segundus up to the end of his canon!]

makesthings

When Sameth enters, he's holding pieces of steel that almost vibrate with how much they've been imbued by the Charter. There's almost the shape of a wrist in them as Sam sits down and gets out a piece of paper to start sketching as he examines the metal.

He needs to improve Lirael's hand and since she needs it, he's working on pieces from the prototype to test possible changes for her. At some point, he remembers that he is hungry and orders some bread and cheese from a passing rat.

makesthings

Sameth enters carrying four sheathed knives, all small, lightweight and of different metals. Younger Jim's commission reminded him of how many spells can be put into knives and the possibilities of them.

He's been working for a few days and now at a stopping point, so his shirt is clean and his hair a little wet when he enters. At the counter, he considers notes when he gets one of his own and smiles, its been a while since he bartended and will give him time to think about the knife and if he should let Security know.

Specials
Royal Silver
King's Gold
Iron Butterfly

Once he's happy with the specials, they suit the kind of work he's been doing, he gets a glass of wine and a roll from the kitchen before looking around to see who's about.

(OOC: Open until it scrolls or another happy hour goes up, whichever comes first. I'll be here for most of the night.)

aaaaaaaagh_sky

People say things about winning and everyone remembering and losing and nobody ever forgetting. Or the other way around. It depends on who you're talking to and what's at stake. Generally, though, most of those statements about winning and losing are made by people who have not actually been through whatever contest of sport or contest of arms or combination thereof they happen to be discussing. And generally, they still have their original teeth.

This is relevant.

Ellen's back from Philadelphia, bruised and bandaged and looking as if she'd like to spit. She'll settle for beer, though. Or whiskey. It's been that kind of day.

just_cant_lose

Jim, circa 1991, arrives in Milliways in a less than pristine state this evening, but for once it's nothing worse than a whole lot of mud and sweat. Some blood sure, but it's his own and quite obviously a result of team sports; he's in white shorts and what looks like a rugby shirt, but is carrying a hurley and has a sliotar in the other hand.

'Thank fuck,' he mutters, and heads to the bar to try and convince her to give him a pint - no dice, forced to settle for Coke - and is also presented with a note from his older self. It's enough to make him forget the mud, because it presents some very interesting information about his least favourite vampire. It tells him to make himself useful and build some more drones - and if he does, he'll get the code to get into the decent suite upstairs - and ends on a very cryptic don't get friendly with YT.

Jim frowns and sits down, putting muddy boots up on to a chair and balancing his ball on his stick, planning to avoid getting back to the stupid game for as long as possible. There's obviously more interesting things happening here.