The RPG Union Standardised Tavern Scene

Posted on Thu Oct 24th, 2019 @ 6:59pm by Petty Officer 1st Class Keth Soban & The Narrator & Lieutenant Commander Mara Ricci & Lieutenant Commander Meilin Jiang & Lu'kat & Lieutenant Francesca Ricci

Mission: S1E4: Upon A Darkening Tide
Location: Carpathia, Landersfell, Portside, The Wistful Poton
Timeline: MD01 1945

"Is it meant to be this quiet?" Keth asked as he ducked through the door into The Wistful Photon, bar/tavern/general store of Carpathia. His ears perked up as he finally figured out why everyone in the evening crowd was quiet and staring. "Commander Jiang, is this like a monastery? Are they meditating? I ask only as they do not resemble the monks I visited when I visited Tibet."

This was factual and true: these people were not dressed in bright robes. They were also nursing drinks and meals, which Keth had witnessed at the monastery. Even the Rish bard, her small trouper's harp still held in her hands, had been stilled into inaction by their arrival.

"Greetings!" Keth said, with a jaunty wave of his arm. "Please continue your meditations, I find them fascinating and educational."

From behind the huge cat, Mara grinned. "I don't think they're monks, Keth," she said, peering at the group. "Just tired and hungry. And surprised at our arrival."

"Maybe we shouldn't have worn our uniforms," added Francie as she grinned around at the group.

"So uniforms aren't mandatory?" Keth asked, reaching up a hand to grip his collar in a soon to be wardrobe self destruct.

Francine grabbed the cat’s hand to still it. “But clothing is,” she amended. “So unless you’ve got something else to put on, I suggest you leave the uniform be.”

Keth opened his mouth to speak.

"As the Shaolin Temple is a tourist attraction rebuilt atop the devastated original structure, I would say you are as likely to find monks of the Mount Song wooded monestary here as you are anywhere." Meilin's face was expressionless, but her eyes were light and merry. "And I would advise against testing the colony's anti-lewdness policies, if any."

"I do not have something else to wear," Keth said in the dejected tone of voice of a five-year-old told he cannot play with Mr Fork near Miss Electric Outlet.

Emkay the EMH bartender appeared before them, dressed in black slacks and a white shirt that just screamed 'barkeep' as much as leather and blades screamed 'Klingon Casual Friday'. He appraised the group with a raised eye, that holographic optic resting on Keth for a moment longer, before looking at Meilin.

"Am I to arrange to seat you, or is this a general occupation?" he asked in a dry tone of voice. "And the Huanni is only getting water and deionised water at that. Before I left Starfleet I'd seen one too many dislocated elbows and shoulders from 'Huanni related social incidents'."

"...DR PHOTON?" Keth said, eyes now big as saucers with an overjoyed look on his face. He turned to look at Mara and the others. "I served on the USS Bennet as a medical orderly, and because I have excellent night vision I was also put on the night shift so I only ever got to see the EMH. And This is that EMH! He's got the same hair, the voice, and look at that eyebrow its so distinctive."

"Not to mention modelled on my creator," Emkay muttered darkly, his hands absently reaching to brush over the bald spot atop his pait.

"I didn't think I'd see you again after the incident with the Targ, and Commander Parker, and the Klingon Ambassador," Keth grinned with all his teeth. "Uncle pt'kat said to thank you for not healing him too much so the scars show. You see gang, I was key in bettering relations with the Klingon Empire. I am very diplomatic."

"I, on the other hand, am programmed to never speak of the events again. But the condition of entry stands: you get a table near a door, and Keth Soban get's water so unexciting it might be air. For the sake of my establishment, my customers, and the safety of the colony," Emkay said warningly.

Lu'kat entered the bar he and the Lt. Cmdr. had started their investigation at that morning. Spotting his crew mates, he made his way over to them. He had read about the Huanni Keth Soban while perusing the station's records, making himself familiar with its personnel and other inhabitants. What he had read had ...disconcerted... him. The figure of Keth Soban didn't fit in any of Lu'kat's categories he usually mentally filed the different people he met under. He also had difficulty merging the Petty Officer's long list of astonishing accomplishments with his destructive, prone to accidents causing and sometimes childlike clumsiness. How the Huanni was able to function was a point of curiosity to Lu'kat. Why Starfleet had sent him here, to the delicate and precarious affairs that Starfleet had gotten itself into in Messier 4, was a mystery.

“Hello, Lu’kat,” said Francie, her tone indicating either careful politeness or guarded trust; it was impossible to tell which. “Nice to have you join us.” But it was difficult to say whether she really believed that or not.

"Ah", Lu'kat said, "a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Ricci'. If the Cardassian had picked up on any sarcasm, he certainly did not let it show, instead he went straight to business. "I had been meaning to discuss the establishment of a Canopus - Carpathia shuttle service so as to speed up the development of Landersfell and foster the beginnings of trade within the region. Does Canopus have any support craft available to aid in such aspirations?"

"Would the aspirations like drinks and a table, or should I open a fire escape to allow my patrons to leave and enter the bar without disrupting the conversation's Fengshui?" Emkay asked darkly, arms crossed as another patron edged around the group of Fleeters.

“Sorry,” Mara replied, moving out of the way of the door and motioning for the others to do the same. “Scotch, or whatever you’ve got that’s closest.”

At that moment, Spires crashed through the door, breathing hard, sweating like a rutting pig, eyes wide in a panic. "HELP!" His eyes darted across the room for any friendly faces. "Somebody help!"

The pub door was darkened, no, eclipsed by the silhouette of a two meter, nearly seven foot tall giant swinging a miner's mattock like it was a toy in his meaty fist. His shaved head glowed red in rage and exhaustion, his long, scraggly beard frothed with saliva from his war cry. "There you are, you sumbitch! Nobody fucks my wife but me!"

Spires rolled over a table and barely missed the heavy swing that shattered it to kindling in one blow. " I didn't do it!" His awkward momentum him carried the roll onto his side onto an adjacent table, but not far enough to clear it. The angry miner swung his mattock overhead and brought it down in a savage chop.

"I caught you dead to rights, you fuckin' liar!"

Rolling to the side, Spires plopped onto the floor just in time for the gigantic cuckold to demolish yet another table. "I swear to God, it wasn't me!"

The giant pinned Spires to the floor with a dirty size 18 (52) boot to the chest. "LIAR! Saw you with me own eyes, I did!"

"You didn't see shit because there was another man in there and --"

"YOU FUCKED MY WIFE WITH ANOTHER MAN?!!!" Clearly the poor jealous husband was beyond reason. His burly, bristling arms hoisted the mattock overhead and prepared for a fatal swing.

Meilin appeared at the man's side with an instep against his weighted knee. The giant man took his boot off Spires chest in order to right himself on solid ground. She raised her arms forward, shoving the man even more off balance, and dropped her weight in a lunge, her leg entwined against his with all the advantage, forcing the man to kneel to keep from being thrown by a woman half his size.

The resulting curses and profanities showed an equal measure of surprise and indignation from the man. He tried to grab her by the collar to give room for a proper shove, but her hand formed a hook gesture that redirected his wrist away from her body, then slid down to grasp his fingers in an inverted lock. The slightest leverage on her part flexed the man's hand and wrist the wrong way to the point of breaking, all by leveraging his sizable mass against him.

"Lemme go!" he yelled as Meilin kept him on his knees.

"But you have a complaint against this man," Meilin said evenly, referring to Spires. Her entire posture screamed ease and grace in the face of the man's bull in the china shop disposition. "We both know you are not leaving here without satisfaction. Am I right?"

The man didn't answer at first, focused as he was at trying to break out of Meilin's embarrassing fingerhold that kept his entire right arm captive. He tried to rise up against her, accustomed as he was to moving heaven and earth with his massive frame. Meilin flexed his fingers and carpal bones just to the point of breaking, forcing him back to his knees with painful pops from multiple joints. "Ow!"

"What's your name?" Meilin asked.

"Owen," he groused from his downcast position.

"You deserve an explanation, Owen, and I will see that you get it." Looking to Spires, who was crawling to the nearest exit, Meilin called out, "Stop him!"

With three quick steps, Mara reached the door at the same time as Spires and grabbed one of his ears. “Don’t worry,” she said, dragging him back into the bar. “He owes me that explanation, too.”

Emkay sighed and eyed the broken table. "No one's going to pay for that," he grumbled and with a flick of his hand, a pair of EMH doppelgangers appeared to begin clearing away the broken remains. The crowd in the bar, now that the floor show had come to a close, returned to their drinks. Though the ones close to the Fleeter's kept an ear open to listen in on the proceedings.

"Like I said before," Spires said, shrugging off Mara's hold on his ear. "I'm innocent. I was strolling about the settlement looking for a news lead when I heard somebody start screaming. It was a bit muffled, but I followed it to an outbuilding where I found two folks going at it like rabbits. The man got scared and ran off, leaving the woman where she lay. That's when Owen here comes in. He chased me all the way from the edge of town."

"Is that accurate?" Meilin asked Owen.

At first the giant man grunted. He didn't like how reasonable Spires' explanation sounded. Looking at Spires and seeing how he was fully clothed, whereas Agnes was not, it did seem to suggest she had been busy with someone else. "Yeah, I guess..."

"Are you going to keep your hands, feet, and tools to yourself?" Meilin asked.

"Yes, mum."

"Very well." Meilin released her hold on the man and backed away several feet to give him space.

Owen stood to his feet and rubbed his fingers, wrist, and arm clear to the elbow. He looked as though he wanted to complain about his treatment, but shame for his behavior began to settle in now that his rage had cooled.

Because Mara and Francie had been raised together, they had a way of communicating without words, a lot like twins. They fell into this every time they got together, no matter how long it had been since they'd last seen one another. And now, arms crossed, Mara glanced at her cousin. What do you think?

Francie shrugged. I believe him.

That was good enough for Mara. Francie was a notoriously good judge of character and had a sixth sense for when someone was lying. She nodded and sighed. I guess so, too.

In response, Francie raised her eyebrows. You're sure this is what you want?

Mara gave her a sheepish grin that just about anybody could read as a yes.

Francie shrugged one shoulder. If he makes you happy.

"All right, Spires," Mara said finally. "You get to keep your balls today."

"Didn't realize they were at risk," Spires quipped back.

"They are not talking about sports implements," Emkay said as Keth raised a hand to ask a question. This silenced the Huanni, though now he had many more questions to ask afterwards. Emkay then shimmered and appeared near Owen with a smile. "Why don't you come to the bar. I have a bottle of Vesta mushroom whisky that's all yours, but only if you promise not to pummel my establishment or my patrons. If you can't do that, I am sure in a few years there will be another bar opening that you can patronize due to being barred from my fine establishment. Do you understand?"

Lu'kat relaxed his posture again, and moved his hands away from where he had his knives hidden away. One could never be too careful after all. Children Lu'kat thought, the entire colony behaves like a bunch of children. In Lu'kat's mind the whole lot would benefit from some proper management. But alas, Carpathia was not Cardassia, and the Starfleet was not the Obsidian Order. So Lu'kat remained silent. Because of the scuffle Lu'kat now found himself next to the Huanni, who was clearly in a very confused state of mind after all the interactions that had played out in front of his cat-like eyes.

"I believe she referred to his testicles, if that is what you are wondering", he offered.

Keth now had more questions.

“Another figure of speech, Keth,” Mara reassures the large cat quickly. “I wouldn’t have actually chopped off his testicles.” She glanced at Spires. “Probably.”

Meilin, however, was still curious. "Just what were you investigating that led you to a private tryst?"

"Read and find out." Spires taunted her with a cocky grin.

"Spires, please don't piss off the colonists," Mara sighed. "Why am I always telling you to stop pissing people off?"

"Memory loss is a sign of a traumatic head injury," Keth said with a knowing nod. "It might very well be that he has a concussion, thus leading to short term amnesia resulting in your continually needing to remind him of simple facts. Or it might be a variant of Andorian Viral Dementia. Though he doesn't have three chromosomes so...maybe not that."

"Excuses to them at the back?" the young Rish minstrel was stood on the bar now, pointing her trouper's harp at the collection of Fleeters. "But there be room enough in this inn for one bard. I might be young in me pipes, but I reckon to be askin' some of you to dance a flailing jig should ye not simmer down and let me earn me supper."

The colonists, clearly now seeing a Us VS Them situation unfolding cheered in support of the spirited player. On any other world the RIsh girl might have been an outcast, a stray to be shooed away. But here she was among the wrecker's cast off's, and she was one of the colonies own.

"All right, all right," said Mara. "I haven't got my saxophone, anyway. Everyone over here." She led them all to three tables lined up in a row where they could all sit. What little they'd heard of her playing had been good after all. They could sit and listen for a bit.

That seemed to mollify the patrons and player, and events within the tavern took on their usual tone of the evening. The drinks arrived, the music swelled. The Rish minstral sang a song about a Rish pirate who took on a Starfleet cruiser and came out on top. 'Screaming louder than lightning, burned that ship inside out!' was the line that got the most cheers. Not something Ingram, who was not present, would have approved of but he wasn't there to censor the music of the free-spirited.

And that's when people's com badges began to chirp. But instead of the warning beep of an incoming comm's request, the badges overrode the broadcast restrictions and began to bleat out in their won chorused harmony. But instead of a living voice, it was the automated tones of the main computer.

"=/\=All hands currently on shore leave please report to designated beam out sites immediately. Liberty is cancelled. All Starfleet personnel are to go to Yellow Alert at this time. This is not a drill.=/\="

Some of the colonists closer to the group overheard the commotion coming from the Fleeter's, and turned to look their way.

“And just when we were all starting to enjoy ourselves,” Mara sighed, but whether she was serious or sarcastic was unclear. She glanced at Meilin, grateful to not be the only ranking officer present. “All right, everyone, move out. Well, not everyone; just anybody in a Starfleet uniform. And Lu’kat. And Spires.” And she stood and led the way out of the tavern.

"What's going on?" One of the colonists asked, getting out of their chair and reaching for Mara's arm. "I use to be Fleet back in the Cardassian Border War, I know a Starbase going to Yellow alert ain't 'cause the Commander's lost his tin whistle."

"I'd like to know myself," Spires said, getting back into journalist mode.

Perhaps the ale had relaxed Mara a bit or perhaps she was simply feeling generous. Whatever the reason, she smiled gently. “We don’t know, yet,” she reminded him. “We’ll be sure to keep the colony informed, though, if it affects you."

"The worst known danger at the moment is panic," Meilin offered to the concerned colonist. "And there are few yellow alert matters that would put Landersfell at risk. Enjoy your leisure time."

"'They don't know my ass!" one of the colonists at the back of the bar shouted, a boozey swagger to his voice. "Last time a Fleeter didn't know what's was happenin' we got shot out of the fukin' sky!"

"But are you dead?" Spires asked, his old brogue returning to better mirror the colonists. "Don't sound like it, so quit yer bitching and let these folks see about whatever it is going on up there."

Meilin frowned at Spires. Regardless of his intentions, that tactic would not help in the long run. "Mr. Spires does not represent Starfleet in any way. If the yellow alert pertains to the colony, then your leaders will be informed."

Mara punched Spires’s arm lightly and began frog marching him out the door. “Out!” she said. “And to the beam out point. No more talking!”