NationStates

Ambassador Stark was awoken by some rude yelling about a proposal regarding some sort of flagmaker, and its repeal

Aye, laddie, not bad work indeed. Congratulations on fixin' that TV as well. Now that we're siphoning power from that Stranger's Bar again, we might be able to catch the premiere of Game of Thrones.

So, Koth, what's next on the plate for you?

Ambroscus Koth smiled warmly at the sight of the man behind the counter. The distinction was necessary, because we all knew that he wasn't actually the bartender.

"Evenin' Tim. What am I gonna pull out of my ass next, you ask? Not sure, honestly. Whatever it is, it'll definitely be a bit more difficult than this one. Perhaps I might go for a big challenge, like commending a raider...or maybe I would if those damn Malloreans didn't do it first!" Koth reached for his thermos and took a long swig of coffee. Odd drink of choice for a bar.

"Maybe something nice. In any case, it probably won't be another repeal. Not so soon, anyway. Wouldn't want to make a name for myself as someone who just waltzes in and destroys things that people worked hard for. Who does that?" asked Koth as he shook his head and wiped some spilled coffee off his Black Rider medals.

Alcon groans and begins to extract himself from the pile of bottles.

"I suppose I'll have to get started soon. "

Stumbling to his feet he grins. "Gratz Koth, definitely not a bad first showing."

Paul Polldger enters the bar

Taking a piece of gum and folding it squarely in half before putting it in his mouth to chew, he waits to be served.

"A glass of your finest cider for everybody, my shout. We are all friends here, this isn't the Strangers' Bar." He's still stunned by what just happened, "Using the Security Council to publicise a bar fight, you couldn't make it up...."

He looks around the empty lounge

"Unless...."

The 3WB could promote itself as the safer, friendlier bar, and it' desperate some publicity.

Paul wonders if anybody would take up his offer.

"Quite the influx of terrible resolution drafts lately." Faber commented, watching the Security Council's activity feeds with boredom and mild irritability as a series of said drafts somehow managed to achieve quorum.

Representative Helen Trevanyika quietly walked into the bar after delivering a sizable poster to the Separatist offices. She had heard rumors about this place, but wasn't exactly sure what to expect. At least she had known what to do at the Strangers' Bar: get drunk and wash away the pain. But she was thinking rationally now, and she didn't feel like touching alcohol soon.

At last she found an empty chair and sat down, listening to the conversations nearby and pretending to go over paperwork.

Thomas Branson III walks into the bar.

Bitely wrote:Thomas Branson III walks into the bar.

Helen swore at her poor luck and tried to make herself even less conspicuous. "Damn megalomaniac," she muttered, reviewing her documents and watching the Bitelian closely.

Colonel Erika Agnarsson strode through the door. Walking up to the bar she leaned forward. "Yorsh, please. Eight parts beer, two parts vodka." Sitting on a bar stool, she surveyed the rest of the room. As the bartender placed her drink on the counter, the representative turned to address him, "This place has seen better days. Looks like no one has been here since April." She leaned here head back and took a swig of her drink.

Ambassador Stark woke up, sporting a killer hangover, and realized that he'd been asleep for half a year. Concluding that this was the best nap ever, he strolled over to Polldger"

Ah Polldger, my dear friend, what brings you to our hallowed halls? Perhaps you'd like some of the bar specials, or is it just the cider for you tonight? Consider the first pint or three on the house, a new publicity initiative

Stark nodded at the faceless bartender, forever cleaning a glass boot, and gestured towards the barrel of cider

Come on lad, we should probably open some of that good stuff up now that it's not just us two here!

After leaving the WA strangers Bar tab1of2 walks past a rather unusual place and decides to walk in. Seeing that Most items are half the price of the WSB he takes a seat at the bar.
"I'll take an order of BBQ wings and a White Russian." He tells the bar tender.

Wallenburg wrote:

Bitely wrote:Thomas Branson III walks into the bar.

Helen swore at her poor luck and tried to make herself even less conspicuous. "Damn megalomaniac," she muttered, reviewing her documents and watching the Bitelian closely.

After getting his fill of draft beer and bar peanuts Thomas gets up to leave. As he walks by the ambassador of wallenburg he slips her a note.

Col. Agnarsson watches as the representitive from Bitely exits the room. Hmmmm, she thought, Bomb, anthrax, or trolling? Whichever it is, I don't think I'm interested in seeing the results of it. Picking up her jacket at the door, she walked out behind Representative Branson.

Ambassador Highbury mutters to himself as he enters the bar.

"Of course Bridge had to be assigned to the General Assembly while I had to be assigned to the Security Council. Although it is a tad more interesting then having to listen to the dribble the ambassador from Bitely writes."

Highbury leans on the counter and stares at the vacant bar room. "HELLO?", he shouts as he finds himself some whiskey.

Seeing that no-one is there, he slips ten Luxdonian crowns into the bar's till which lies ajar.

Ambassador Krein from Wallenburg wanders into the empty bar. Seeing a dart board, he smiles and produces a composite bow, walking to the other end of the room and firing arrows into the cork target.

Delegate-Ambassador Smith walks into the Bar, bemoaning the fact that the bar has been empty in 2016 so far (and deserted, but for one ambassador from Wallenburg, for the last year), despite various promises of arrivals. He looks at the menu list, but it has largely been dilapidated. Another list dated back to the 1960s, but the prices were from days of old, and the NationStates Dollar then could buy you at least a dozen now.

With 20 Tinhamptonian dollars in his hand (some may dispute and claim them as a couple of leaflets detailing the role of that Unspeakably Named organisation in 1973, doing the same job as today but at least 100 times larger; although the leaflet size is just coincidence), he awaits the arrival of the bartender, for a few drinks and a bit of chat about how the proposed repeal of the liberation of the NSIA would be a bad thing... or not.

Corporal Sergio Guerrero entered the Three Walled Bar quite by accident. He was ordered to go find a copy of Delegate Schultz' draft of Condemn Bitely, and got lost on the way back.

Oh well, he could use a drink.

Tinhampton wrote:Delegate-Ambassador Smith walks into the Bar, bemoaning the fact that the bar has been empty in 2016 so far (and deserted, but for one ambassador from Wallenburg, for the last year), despite various promises of arrivals. He looks at the menu list, but it has largely been dilapidated. Another list dated back to the 1960s, but the prices were from days of old, and the NationStates Dollar then could buy you at least a dozen now.

With 20 Tinhamptonian dollars in his hand (some may dispute and claim them as a couple of leaflets detailing the role of that Unspeakably Named organisation in 1973, doing the same job as today but at least 100 times larger; although the leaflet size is just coincidence), he awaits the arrival of the bartender, for a few drinks and a bit of chat about how the proposed repeal of the liberation of the NSIA would be a bad thing... or not.

"So, uh... what's good here, huh? I've never been here before."

Wallenburg wrote:Ambassador Krein from Wallenburg wanders into the empty bar. Seeing a dart board, he smiles and produces a composite bow, walking to the other end of the room and firing arrows into the cork target.

Deputy Representative Holt enters the dimly-lit, dusty bar. He looks around for a while, surprised to see activity for once. His eye catches the shafts of a bunch of arrows lodged deep into a faded dartboard. Chuckling to himself, he walks to the board and yanks the arrows out one by one.

"Well, that's where they went. Let this go to show that Wallenburg always gets her property back in full."

Excidium Planetis wrote:

Tinhampton wrote:Delegate-Ambassador Smith walks into the Bar, bemoaning the fact that the bar has been empty in 2016 so far (and deserted, but for one ambassador from Wallenburg, for the last year), despite various promises of arrivals. He looks at the menu list, but it has largely been dilapidated. Another list dated back to the 1960s, but the prices were from days of old, and the NationStates Dollar then could buy you at least a dozen now.

With 20 Tinhamptonian dollars in his hand (some may dispute and claim them as a couple of leaflets detailing the role of that Unspeakably Named organisation in 1973, doing the same job as today but at least 100 times larger; although the leaflet size is just coincidence), he awaits the arrival of the bartender, for a few drinks and a bit of chat about how the proposed repeal of the liberation of the NSIA would be a bad thing... or not.

"So, uh... what's good here, huh? I've never been here before."

Delegate-Ambassador Smith points out that "Neither have I been here before!"

Tinhampton wrote:Delegate-Ambassador Smith points out that "Neither have I been here before!"

"Oh?" Guerrero raises an eyebrow. "Well then, I guess we can figure it out together. That guy looks like he has been here."

Wallenburg wrote:Deputy Representative Holt enters the dimly-lit, dusty bar. He looks around for a while, surprised to see activity for once. His eye catches the shafts of a bunch of arrows lodged deep into a faded dartboard. Chuckling to himself, he walks to the board and yanks the arrows out one by one.

"Well, that's where they went. Let this go to show that Wallenburg always gets her property back in full."

"Hey, buddy, you know what the grub is like here? I've been wandering these halls forever trying to get back to the GA, and I'm fam, ya know?"

Excidium Planetis wrote:"Hey, buddy, you know what the grub is like here? I've been wandering these halls forever trying to get back to the GA, and I'm fam, ya know?"

"I am unsure, sir. I have never ordered larva from this bar." Holt glances over to the unlit, empty kitchen. "I wonder if they serve anything here."

Wallenburg wrote:

Excidium Planetis wrote:"Hey, buddy, you know what the grub is like here? I've been wandering these halls forever trying to get back to the GA, and I'm fam, ya know?"

"I am unsure, sir. I have never ordered larva from this bar." Holt glances over to the unlit, empty kitchen. "I wonder if they serve anything here."

"Ha ha... funny guy." Guerrero smiles. "I'm a look around, see if I can't find anything to wolf."

Geurrero returns with two bottles of what is presumably alcohol. "Let's see... we have 'the Special Beer', which has been commended, apparently, and some Amaretto. There appears to be some kinda meat in the freezer, but it's kinda gnarly, if you know what I mean."

Geurrero poor a glass of beer for himself before offering a glass to Holt.

Excidium Planetis wrote:Geurrero poor a glass of beer for himself before offering a glass to Holt.

"Erm, thank you, but no thank you. My office has had enough incidents of alcohol poisoning when we do know something about what we're drinking. I'd rather not delve into years-old mystery beer."

Wallenburg wrote:

Excidium Planetis wrote:Geurrero poor a glass of beer for himself before offering a glass to Holt.

"Erm, thank you, but no thank you. My office has had enough incidents of alcohol poisoning when we do know something about what we're drinking. I'd rather not delve into years-old mystery beer."

"Well, suit yourself." Geurrero says, taking a swig of the mystery beer. He frowns. "Eh, it will taste better after I've had a few."

He glances at the arrows Holt removed from the dart board. "Wanna have a little sport? Just some target shooting for fun." He withdraws his rocket pistol from its holster, setting it on the bar. "Don't matter if your good or anything."