Gimme a Circe Green Ale (open for whatever)

[Velok the Younger]

MANALORE
KELDABE
A BAR

All things considered, Rave Merrill was not one for the bar scene, but the ale smelled like Vinithi and it had been a long day, full of constipated people. The woman with the Nightsister bruises drained half the tankard with a satisfied sigh. She raised a toast to the room at large. "To Monroe and Larraq, for calling the Jedi out on their clart. Oya!"

 

[Bolt]

From the very back of the room, hidden in shadows with his feet propped on the table, Zander sat silently holding a glass of Bourbon. His eyes never wavered, nor shifted past what he looked upon - the very reason Zaiden died, Rave Merrill. Pouring a gentle flow into his open mouth, he knew it would be idiotic to make any move with the body he currently resided in.

Hell, he was more of a knock off then his true self. Ever since awakening things like that had driven themselves into the conscious thoughts of the man. Without his true spirit dwelling inside of himself, it didn't matter that he knew the things he did because he could not do any of them.

One day though Zander would be ready, and then he would bring himself before Rave and let her know she had failed when she turned him in. He had lived, now in two forms, and though one of them hated her, he simply wanted her to understand the things she had done to him.

 

[Matreya]

Stepping through the small doorframe, came a massive body clad - as always - in full battle attire. Glancing to his side, Damien dropped his arms to his side...

Is that Zaiden... He thought as he stared at a man in the back. Their eyes met and the other - almost unnoticeably - shook his head. No attention was to be brought to the man. Glancing away from the back, towards the origins of the smell, he smiled at Rave Merrill, "Mrs. Merrill i seem to see you everywhere these days."

He didnt like it, but he had to admit that wasnt so bad. She was beautiful, strong, and an alchemist. All the things required for good company.

@[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Mandalore.

She had never been until today, and that was for the simple fact of being in the area with nothing better to do besides visit the world of a people that Rhuan had professed respect for. Even more unusual was that she was in a bar. Just... a bar, with a name she didn't quite catch, and were she honest with herself - and the blonde usually was - it didn't matter at all. Today was one of two anniversaries, of celebration one of two lives that had forever altered the direction of her own. She did not visit the graves, the pain of returning to that world, the place of her birth and childhood being still so sore even after all these years. Eight for Rhuan, for whom the anniversary was still some months away, but today? Today was for Sora, eighteen years since her passing, friend, sister not in blood but in strange necessity.

Her death had been a catalyst, as the intervening years had proven, and so on this evening, Sel sat at the bar nursing the whisky of her birthplace - not Whyren's, but its more common strain - with an air of contemplation about her. When the toast went up in a roar, it snapped her musings, and shocked her attention away from the colour of the liquor to the woman who declared it.

The Jedi and their clart... huh? Her mouth picked up some small amusement at the chosen words of the toast, and her own glass followed suit with everyone that joined in. No fething kark.

"Oya!" She cheered in unison with the gathered, but she said nothing further, lowering her glass at the completion of the toast.

She brought the glass to her mouth, her eyes still on the other woman when a man, just as unfamiliar to her but seeming to know the woman, approached. One delicate brow raised, and its counterpart followed, the concept of people who showed up casually in bars and on beaches in full armoured dress being so utterly beyond her comprehension, save for one fact - trouble could conceivably be found in every shadow. Still, that didn't stop the guy from looking like a bloody idiot, in her eyes... if they were on any other world. But this was Mandalore, and in her own lithe, black catsuit, utility belt, waist-length denim jacket and knee-high, deep-red boots, the Corellian Blonde was woefully underdressed in comparison.

Not that she gave a frak.

@[member="Rave Merrill"] @[member="Lord Daemos"]

 

[Nolan Detta]

Nolan was behind the bar promoting his brother [member="Kable Detta"]'s new brew, 'Circe Green Ale'. He walked up and down the bar serving it to willing customers. He moved to the dark haired woman at the bar who'd just made a toast.
Oya indeed madam, might I interest you in a pint of Circe Green? My brother and I just finished our first batch this morning.

He poured a pint and slid it to the woman, winking his emerald eyes as he did.

[member="Rave Merrill"]

 

[Neskar A'toll]

The bar was barely open, and people were already swarming to it. His kind of scene then. It was said that a special kind of ale that no one had ever tasted before was being sold here, and he... desperately wanted some. New ale wasn't always good ale, but his gut told him that it would be good. Tasty at that. He shouldered his way into the bar, though not without gentleness. Neskar still wore his beskar'gam, though he left his buy'ce on his ship for now, revealing his stark and dark features to those who dared look. Numerous scars and healed gashes governed the look of his face, and perhaps made him seem more unwelcoming than he usually was. But tonight, he had to think before glaring at people. Maybe he wanted company after all. It was not often he was bereft of the shield that covered his face, and it made him feel more open. People knew him by the T-shaped visor of a Mandalorian, not the face that was under it. He preferred it that way. If anything, he was just another face in the crowd.

Neskar sidled up to the bar, and ordered a mug of that special kind of ale that no one had ever tasted before and leant at the bar, looking at the other inhabitants of the quick filling pub. A small smirk took over his face, as his icy eyes almost seemed to glare at those present. He heard the cries and the shouts, and the inevitable "oya", and he made a kind of half-arsed gesture to acknowledge them. The ale was good, he noted. Lovely.

[member="Selinica Miriya Cailis"] [member="Lord Daemos"] [member="Rave Merrill"] @Nolan Detta

 

[Nolan Detta]

One after another were ordering the pint, and a new man, a vod, ordered a glass. Nolan walked over to him behind the bar, next to the dark haired woman with whom he first spoke...

So what do you think burc'ya? Does it live up to the hype?

Nolan himself took a swig from his own mug.

[member="Neskar A'toll"] [member="Rave Merrill"] [member="Lord Daemos"]

 

[Nyxie]

A new kind of alcoholic beverage had literally just premiered. Circe Green, they'd call it. If not for the name alone, the vampiric vixen would have never stopped by. In the matter of an hour, she had arrived to the location, having already been in a nearby hyperlane cutting through Esfandia and Obredaan where the aging installations and hidden treasures lie. Her craft was a CIS-manufactured Languor and the IFF registers were all intersystem civilian with licenses for all installed weaponry. It was parked in a nearby clearing a couple of kilometers away from the mainstay of civilization, but the solid canopy and hard-locks ensured no local thieves could break in and steal it. Ashe was never much of a drinker or a barmaid after her 'changes,' but that did not leave her without leisure time unspent or an individuality unsatisfied.
Ashe walked through the front doors, around the bend, into the main hall to a bar full of strangers and unknown faces. Her tails were neatly tucked under the terentatek duster she had won weeks ago now dyed indigo, the spaulders of her blackened armor placed over it with the rest of her attire underneath and high heeled greaves left exposed from underneath. Her silvery long hair glistened with each foot forward as it shifted with her form. She was an entirely new being, one unlike any the locals or the galaxy at large had seen publicly. An ominous aura followed her closely, but it was not one of a Sith. Who she once was is dead, quite literally, and in its place now lies a tainted and yet eerily beautiful shell. Sure; she wasn't a Mandolorian, but neither was the dragon or the hulk.
Sitting down by the bar on a quaint little stool, she leaned forward and ordered a pint full of that latest new beverage. The taste was incredibly familiar. She had known it well, for years in fact. It was no different than alcohol and Vinithi excretion combined. She truly wondered if they knew exactly what they were drinking, and if they would find it so satisfying then. At least there was so little of it by volume, nobody would be seducing anyone else any time in the near future. For her to be brutally honest, it was actually fairly good.

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Zander"], off in his shadowy corner, got no more than a glance. Zaiden's reflections were not uncommon in Rave's line of work.

[member="Lord Daemos"] got the kind of look Rave gave a seven-foot-three man in Sith armor. Certainly his beskar'gam had more in common with a Sith artifact than with any Mandalorian armor around. Gutsy choice, on a world the Sith had once invaded, but maybe he and his armor were known here. "'Missus' Merrill's a bit much, Daemos. 'Miz' will do fine. Or 'Master' Merrill." Accepting the tumbler from [member="Nolan Detta "]with a nod of thanks, she cut off as the door opened and [member="Ashe the Reaper"] came on in and took a stool at the bar.

"Oh hello. What have we here..." A slow grin came over her, and she drew her alchemical swordbreaker, laid it on the bartop, spun it. The weapon had been Ashe's bid for a certain anonymous lot, and had been delivered anonymously. Ashe would recognize the weapon, and considering her relationship with Circe was now a matter of public record in the Republic senate and elsewhere, there was a pretty decent chance Ashe was about to realize that she'd made the weapon for the woman who'd taken everything from her wife.

"How's that Circe Green suit ya?"

 

[Nyxie]

The new booze was intoxicatingly fine, but not of itself intoxicating. Ashe's new form didn't accept alcohol to her bloodstream nearly as easily, as it would merely be filtered out in her liver and found no place in the Force-rich properties of her now vampiric blood. Slowly placing a nearly-empty stein back down, her eyes slowly moved over to the sight of a beautiful crystalline blade unlike any she had seen before. The woman had very well known of it, but she had never seen the particular one before in her life. In fact, it was the first time she'd ever lain eyes on any kind of swordbreaker. A curious little tool, it was to her. Her daughter quite the devout Templar alchemist, and did things on her own accord most of the time. Outsourcing the bid to young Saera was the only way the foxtress could keep up with the others, and the girl didn't mind an opportunity to further her forging skills at all.
"Fairly well, all things considered. You look like you could use another. Have one on me..." Ashe murmured in her surreal voice, subtle as to not make her stand out in the crowd. Mandolorians tended to kill things they thought were odd, funny or threatening, especially when those things came from a world that wasn't of their own.
The truth of the matter was that Ashe had never seen [member="Rave Merrill"] in her life. She knew only what the auction house foretold about AEL, and about the quality of most of the items she'd won. She didn't even personally know the woman's name or her involvement in the company. She certainly did not know that it was she who had nigh slain her now-wife. Not all was lost, however. It had merely disappeared from sight. One cannot lose what one does not possess. Now, a second round of drinks had finally arrived.

 

[Sargon Vynea]

Mandalore wasn't a place the Zabrak had ever been before, ever actually, and this left him a bit surprised. It was a world at the heart of a legend, and the absolute heart of the Mandalorian Crusades. He found this current Mandalorian group quite interesting, it defied history on expectations of a Mandalorian Empire. Last time he'd been anywhere near Mandalorian space hadn't been under the best of circumstances, but an alliance was only worth what you backed it up with. So he arrived as requested, but now he was simply there as a very minor business man doing a hauling contract.

What he did not expect was a few faces he knew in the crowd. It seemed like the Force enjoyed weaving the paths of people in and out to always met again, some were just unavoidable. Taking a seat next to [member="Rave Merrill"] the Zabrak pulled out a small flask and poured a bit of Iridonian whiskey out into two shot glasses. "Seems I can't get away from home no matter how far I fly, but then again can we ever really?"

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Ashe the Reaper"] [member="Sargon Vynea"] [member="Lord Daemos"]

Rave chewed her lip. She got the distinct feeling she was missing something. "Thanks for that. Oh, hey," she greeted Sargon, and spun the swordbreaker absently on the bartop.

"So. Here's my question for all and sundry. How long you all figure until Mando space is locking horns with the Republic in a serious way? How long 'til war?"

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer had entered the bar a few moments ago. Her goal was one of the chairs, finally sitting on one the hooded girl spun in circles slowly enjoying the scenery. The others of course seem to be in the middle of a deep conversation. The bartender tapped the counter and Spencer finally stopped and looked at the man. A grin swept across her face as she ordered a rather simple drink. Corellian Whisky on the rocks.

 

[Ilias Nytrau]

Hearing the question, she looked down the bar towards the one asking, after finishing off her own glass of Corellian Whisky and asking politely for another, neat, just after another blonde asked for the same, on the rocks. The fresh pour in hand, she answered the query.

"Within two weeks, possibly a month on the extreme outside," she replied, the amusement of a few minutes prior no longer present in her visage. "If the Republic manages to hold it off, that is. Which I somehow doubt."

She took a sip of the new pour of whisky, and listened for what others might have to say. Answers to this question were part-educated guess, part-pure speculation, and could be coloured one way or another dependant on personal natures and allegiances.

@[member="Spencer Jacobs"] @[member="Rave Merrill"] @[member="Sargon Vynea"] @[member="Ashe the Reaper"] @[member="Nolan Detta "] @[member="Neskar A'toll"] @[member="Lord Daemos"]

 

[Josh Dragovalor]

A man sat in the back of the establishment. His head was up and his face unseen, save his mouth... Which had an amused smirk running along it before taking a sip of his drink. He had been listening to the conversations... Taking in the tales of the galaxy without being in the thick of things, relaxing, enjoying himself... And best of all, no politics.

If the man had a force presence, it was cleverly hidden. But alas, he seemed like someone who had come to relax and have a drink without being bothered by galactic politics, heretics and liars...

This Circe Green Ale was actually pretty decent... The one thing the Mandalorians had gotten right in months.

(Did a small edit... Read some things wrong. Blame the tiredness)

 

[Nolan Detta]

Cleaning glasses to help out the bartender, Nolan noticed a beautiful blonde, who looked like she was trying to hide her face, but still have fun. He walked around to the front of the bar with a pair of pints of Circe Green.

Hello Miss. Could I interest you in a pint of Circe Green Ale? My name is Nolan. Nolan Detta. My brother Kable and I created this ourselves. Detta Brewing at your service. *Bows slightly*

[member="Spencer Jacobs"]

 

[Allyson Locke]

Spencer sipped her corellian whiskey and looked at the ale. She had heard about the Mandalorians creating it which amused her greatly. Setting the chilling glass down, she blinked and smiled happily towards the man that was offering her the drink. So here she was, with the creator! "That sounds like an offer I can't pass up" Taking the second pint she took a sip of the Ale, her smile widened as she took another, this time a longer sip. "Its wonderful! So what gave you this idea? Not many go into the Beer creation industry and come out with something so unique and new. My name's Spencer Jacobs - nice to meet you Mr Detta."

[member="Nolan Detta "]

 

[Velok the Younger]

[member="Spencer Jacobs"] [member="Rave"] Merrill [member="Sargon Vynea"] [member="Ashe the Reaper"] [member="Nolan Detta "][member="Neskar A'toll"] [member="Lord Daemos"] [member="Joshua DragonsFlame"]

"Two weeks, a month tops? Sounds about right to me." Rave swigged Circe Green. "I've got no delusions about the monsters in the Mando ranks, or in mine, but I wouldn't be too terribly displeased to see the Republic pay for Metalorn and Manaan. Putting folk like Zambrano on trial is one thing, but doing it with a straight face while keeping Matsu Ike immune from prosecution? Or Syn? Fether hired pirates to hit a Republic world, got exiled for treason, and now he's on the Jedi Council. Don't get me wrong. I actually like the Jedi. I think a lot of'em are the genuine article. I just don't like bein' looked down on by people that shelter war criminals because they like their color scheme."

 

[Laura Na'Varro]

[member="Rave Merrill"]

"Sooner rather than later!" A tall, blonde Mando warrior piped up from the other side of the bar, Circe Green Ale in hand. Generally he didn't trust an ale that wasn't gold or amber, but his vods assured him that the stuff was excellent. And so far, so good. "But I didn't come here to talk osik, lass. I came to drink!"

Standing up, Rickon took his Circe Green Alen and sculled it in four big gulps, then took his pint glass and smashed it on the ground.

"Another!" His fellow Mandos roared with approval.

 

[Nolan Detta]

Well actually it was my brothers idea, he found an ingredient that we thought would taste good in a brew so we ran with it. We got really lucky that it tastes as good as it does.

He was enjoying his conversation with the gorgeous blonde when a loud crash came over the sound of the gathering. A vod had just slammed a glass onto the bar floor, breaking it all over. Nolan was not about to have that on his watch. He approached the man and he stood his full 1.89 meters...

Sir, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but please refrain from damaging this bars property. Now I'm only going to ask you once, if I have to come over here again, I'll be forced to removed you from this fine establishment. Now that being said...Who wants another round of Circe Green Ale!?!?! Nolan raised his glass up in a toast to everyone around. The bartender poured for whomever desired another round. Nolan walked back to the Beautiful blonde.

Sorry about that. Miss... Jacobs? May I call you Spencer?

[member="Spencer Jacobs"] [member="Rickon Ordo"]