Raven's Nest: Lancer Barracks and Bar (RolePlaying Enforced)

Thomas pauses about halfway to the door as yet another lancer walks in. Is that... yeah... the axeman pilot. Watching the fellow grab a drink from the bar and walk across the room, he sees the newcomer join another drinker in the corner. Wow. Didn't even notice that one. Heraldry puts him in the Hellhound, though. He pauses and sighed. Well, I suppose a few more introductions are in order. Lord knows there has to be at least one normal person around here.

He turns and begins the walk to their table as the two begin a conversation.

 

Karen's peripheral vision locked onto the boisterous lancer as he walked in, downed a couple drinks, did a jig, and strolled on out again.

For a minute, she barely noticed that her face had twisted into a scowl before another lancer passed through the door.

He's gonna run into something if he keeps that up...

Miraculously, the stranger made it to the bar without incident.
Karen watched him chat briefly with Old Hank, who then reached under the bar and--
Wait, is that--?! And like that, she found herself standing again.

She took one step and spied a third lancer in front of her--Could've sworn that guy was just leaving--that had also taken interest in Old Hank and his friend...

 

Strahl smiles at his guest "Axman right? Believe me," he begins with a chuckle as he reaches for the shot "luck had nothing to do with it." He raises the small glass up in turn and downs the whiskey, before sitting it back next to the bottle.

"I had to work hard to get close enough and rattle your mech like that. Honestly, that quick dip in the water left me with a single medium laser..." He adopts a contemplative look as he lightly shakes his head in mock self pity. "Having to stick to tall cover, hide out of sight and wait patiently for the opportunity to turn your loss around... Stealthy close range maneuvers like that aren't what main battle mechs are for, especially with an ankle biter who can do it better already on the field and hunting for you."

Strahl returns his gaze to the lancer across the table from him as to address him more directly. "That's the problem with stock mechs like ours though isn't it? Limited loadouts and generally specialized to strike at certain ranges or support a bigger formation. Fight from too far and you can't hit your opponent, move in too close and they'll outmaneuver you. I guess we've both learned that lesson. Still," he reaches for the whiskey bottle and uncaps it "I'll not have to suffer long. I've already made plans to rectify that situation." Strahl sees to it that both shot glasses are refilled and slid closer to their respective drunkards before setting the bottle back down in the center of the table. "Suppose you'd be willing to share if you've done the same with your mech yet?"

 

Reaching the far side of the bar, Thomas walks up to the other two pilots and gave a casual salute.

"Greetings. I'm hoping the two of you are a little more sane that the fourth of our little match. Name's Paladin. Mind of I pull up a chair?"

 

"I appreciate that." He gives an embarrassed grin at the mention of his mech's condition at the end of the fight. "She's definitely a tough one, and she'll fight with nothing but the engine and head left. I found that mech rusting in a junkyard about 6 months ago. From the production numbers, she's almost 400 years old, probably carried dozens of warriors into battle."

Thomas gives a grimace at the mention of the tourney's winner. "Yes, I have had the displeasure of his presence. He was in here not half an hour ago. As near as I can tell, he's either a fantastic actor, or he's completely insane. Keeps spouting nonsense about some traitor." He takes a swallow of his drink. "He has EI gear, too. I'm not sure if that's the cause of his madness, or just making it worse."

 

Ah, they've been acquainted. On the battlefield, no less...
Karen's pace slowed, allowing the two--no, now three--men to start their conversation.

The airhead--Conrad, was it?--took another shot and... oh.

No amount of sneaking could keep her from getting spotted while very clearly walking towards them.
Pardon my intrusion, gentlemen. I couldn't help but notice that bottle you have there.

She stopped just out of arm's reach and bowed slightly.
Not to be outdone, her ponytail flopped over her left shoulder.
My name's Karen.

She stood up and glanced towards each of them in turn.
Of course, she only had business with one of them at the moment.
I don't drink much myself, but I'm always curious about Old Hank's vintage brews.

Her blue eyes twinkled as she locked her gaze at the airhead--Conrad, sorta?
Perhaps you could tell me more about that one you have there?

 

Glitch watched the table that was becoming more crowded by the minute with a smile. "Looks like we weren't invited to the party."

Ratchet looked up with a smile of his own that had nothing to do with the party. "What? Oh, I suppose. Good news boss; Hive drew the short straw this month with contracts. Looks like we might not be the only ones who don't trust a bunch of murdering robots."

Glitch's smile widened and he called over the noise to Old Hank. "Hank, another bottle for our friends on me! And send a bottle of your worst brew to the bastards at Hive. Maybe they can lube their blasphemous robots with it!"

 

The shot glass slid across the bar, slid off the bar, and flew towards her.

Eh?

Karen stepped back to catch the glass and quickly raised it up again to drink.
Please don't spill. Pleased don't spill.

One swallow later and she was left with an empty glass and a considerably warmer gut.

She nods again as she returns the glass--without throwing it.

Canrad, by the way? Nice to meet you!

 

Thomas nods at the latest newcomer and raises his own glass. "Welcome to the party. Word of warning, don't let that stuff sit on your tongue too long." He grimaces as he tosses his own shot back. "I'm pretty sure Hank is mixing jet fuel in some of these bottles."

He tilts his head as his earpiece beeps. "Hey boss", Katja's voice comes through, "contracts just went up. Looks like Alliance got the win with two available. The others all have one though. Not a bad selection overall. MAJOR event coming up soon. Should be able to take a free pick with that one. No details on the nature of it though."

Thomas glances across the bar and gives a slight not to show the message was received, then turns his attention back to the table. He chuckles slightly as a thought occurs to him.

"You know, it's a little ironic that we can take a moment to relax. It won't be long before we're shooting at each other for real."

 

Ara ara!

Karen leaned towards him--Paladin, was it? I wonder if his horse's outside--and reached out to tap his nose with her index finger.
But knowing the other pilot's face makes the experience that much more compelling.

As she stood up again, Radomir gestured to her from further down the bar. She pouted.
Aw, it's time to go.

She started off again, slapping the shoulder of the third lancer--oh! clean shaven for once--as she passed.
I look forward to our next meeting!

The Geezer was finishing with paying the bill while chatting with Old Hank.
As Karen drew close, they shook hands and Old Hank went back to his work.
She exchanged a smile and nod with the bartender before turning back to Radomir.

He spoke first.
New contracts have come in. We should prepare.

 

Thomas stares at the news feed with growing horror, before jumping up and dashing across the bar. "Katja, get back to the Hunter! I want a street map of the city and an exact location of that explosion before I get to the repair bay. And get me probable entry points into the city for mechanized units."

She nods quickly and starts for the door as well, leaving her drink unfinished. "On it. I'll have a map at least by the time you get there. More as I can get my hands on it."

He darts out the door, rage pounding the blood in his ears. Bastards! They'll pay for hitting a civilian target!

 

Tahira looks at the building in front of her.

"You sure this is the right place, I mean..."

"Yes, this is the place." Aelina cuts her off. "It may not be what we are used to with father's place but it will work nicely. They also say this is the place where most Lancer's hang out. "

Tahira looks at her sister and give her a smile. "Let's enter." She covers her face as she walks towards the door.

Aelina hurries after her. "You sure? Your mech took a heavy beating. Shouldn't you atleast get yourself checked?"

"Just some bumps and bruises" answers Tahira while laughing.

As they enter, they look around the place but notice that there are only a few souls there. Most of them are sitting by the bar hunched up over a drink. They move further in and takes a seat by a table alongside the wall.

Aelina glances over at someone who just entered but then looks back at her sister. "We have just arrived here but already seen combat. Fathers information was correct as usual"

"Except for one thing" Tahira sighs "They were far better equipped then we anticipated. They where even brave enough to attack the capital, Port Krin "

Aelina nods. "These are not the type of bandits that we are used to fighting. They have far better equipment here then what we normally see. Judging from all of this, i can tell that we will need to upgrade. I do think we will need a sponsor for that though. I have some clues of where to go."

"Your my sister, i trust that you will make a good choice." answers Tahira as she stands up and walks off to the bar.

Aelina smiles "I know you do"

Tahira comes back with drinks for them and then they continue to talk about how to advance in the future.

 

Karen pulled out a stool and sat down.

Old Hank walked over, holding a glass of cider.
Didn't think I'd see you here this early.

Karen continued staring at the bartop.
Gramps insisted that I... unwind a bit.

The drink landed onto the bartop and nudged towards her.
Well, perhaps you'd like some company...

She nodded--more at the glass than Hank--but otherwise hesitated.

The barkeep paused a moment before heading back to work.
Take your time.

She cradled the glass in her hands.

The cider glared back at her.

 

Glitch sat at a table, nursing his drink and replaying the battle in his mind. As he suspected, the insane pilot still had enough sanity to pull off some impressive maneuvers. Their hot drop pincer maneuver had been nearly flawless, though he had come close to botching the landing. Two meters in any direction would have left him as a 35 ton ornament on a tree. I need to be a better pilot. Luck can only take me so far.
As he looked up from his contemplations, he noticed the familiar faces of some of the lancers he had fought beside. And one or two he had fought against as well. It was good to know everyone had walked away from the battle. He was sure the Golem III was going to turn and finish what it had started. Or the Golem II that relentlessly harassed Paladin even after it was crippled, knocked down, and shut down. "Damn drones."