The Bar at the End of the Universe

The door opens, and a beautiful woman in red biking leathers slinks in... biking leathers which almost instantaneously turn into a skin-tight red devil costume.

Red looks herself up and down, tugs the zip of her outfit down an inch or two, and grins a brilliant orca-in-a-herd-of-seals grin.

"Well," she says, to apparently nobody, "You can't expect me to celebrate alone..."

She winks, lazily... and suddenly everything changes. (Again.)

There are costumes, naturally -- and is it the narration, or is there a lot more people in here to wear them all of a sudden?

Bunting in black and orange garlands the walls, and carved pumpkins line the bar and the fireplace, flickering eerily. (Every so often, the expressions on them change when you're not paying attention.)

Ghosts can be seen in the mirrors lining the walls... and perhaps not just in the mirrors.

Outside in the dark, a werewolf's cry splits the air, sending packs of demon bunnies flooding towards the back door.

Red pours herself into a seat at the bar, sips the Bloody Mary provided for her, and purrs.

"That's much better."




[OOC: Welcome to the Milliways All-Skate: Halloween Edition!
All welcome - yes, that means all. Whether they're retired, deleted, AU, original or already being played by someone else, bring 'em in!

Usual all-skate rules apply:
1. Everyone's stressed out of their mind right now, so have fun!
2. Communication is key.
3. Gratuitous behaviour (either of a violent or sexual nature) will not be tolerated in the bar proper. Take that to an OOM, and then Content Warning the hell out of it before you link it.
4. What happens in the All-Skate, stays in the All-Skates! Unless, that is, it happens between approved game characters and all muns agree.
5. Please don't be a dick.
6. Feel free to ignore the theme, if you'd rather -- or even enlarge on it. Interacting with War is also not required, since she does rather tend to spoil everyone's day.]

The door opens and a young woman in the most beautiful of blood-red evening gowns saunters into the bar.

It's a wonderful evening, and it's about to get even more wonderful... at least for her.

For the attendees of the ambassador's ball, of course, it's going to be slightly less wonderful... but at least it will be full of interest. It would be a terrible thing, to live in a dull world.

Not that they will be, for much longer. And not that a dull world is something she has any personal experience of.

No harm in getting the drinks in here, though. The ambassador may have excellent military contacts, but she has absolutely appalling taste in booze.




[OOC: Tonight of all nights, I had to do it. Usual health warnings apply.]

The door opens on the sounds of screams and gunfire, the smell of smoke and explosives; Carmine Zuigiber, war reporter-at-large for the Weekly World News, slinks through with the poise and sang-froid of a supermodel on a runway, smiling to herself at a job well done.

"Excellent," she says crisply, smile broadening as she realises where she is. "I could kill for a drink."

(Or, perhaps, ensure someone else kills for a drink. Just so long as there's blood and alcohol.)

But when she gets to the bar, what she gets instead of a cocktail is a note from Bar. She doesn't argue (mainly because the possibilities involved here have previously occurred to her), instead removing a small gold lipstick bullet from an undisclosed location and using the reflection from a three-pint glass to freshen up her perfect lipstick while she considers her options.

That done, she uses the same lipstick to print the specials on the board:

SHOTS FIRED TONIGHT:
151 Ways To Die
Snakebite
Kamikaze
Four Horsemen

ANYONE WHO CAN OUTDRINK ME GETS ALL THEIR DRINKS FREE
Never let it be said that War doesn't have her rewards, after all. (Or that she's subtle.)

Job done, she perches on the bartop, crossing her incredible legs with the faint rasping noise of denim-on-denim that can, nonetheless, somehow be heard across the room, and grins.

"Come and get 'em, boys!"

Or girls, of course. But she's always found her appeal is greater with the lads.

A beautiful woman in red - long hair like battlefield fires at night; biker leathers the colour of a soldier's sash; lips perfectly lacquered with the deep, dark hue of old blood - lets herself into the bar, her helmet tucked under one arm...

And grins the sort of grin that might otherwise be attributed to an orca let loose on a school of tuna.

"Awwwwwwright!"

She swaggers across the room to order a drink at the bar, her high heels clicking on the wood like a pocketful of bullets.

This is gonna be fun.

[OOC: A wild Back Room post appears! Any questions, please comment over there or catch me on Discord.]