Teepot Kingdom wrote:"Ugh..." Ate sighed. He had a few too many, and he knew the feeling well. However, despite his drunken state he realized: the Wilting Succubus was just that. Wilting. The general atmosphere was drab, almost depressing. And although he might come here to drown his sorrows, he would never come here to party. Besides, he swore that the alcohol that the bartender had been serving him was more water than alcohol.
Setting a wad of cash on the table, as he had forgotten the exact amount he had owed, Ate did his best to walk to the restroom through the dull pub. Pushing open the door, the restroom was empty. He gave a small, unintelligible grunt before walking into one of the stalls, and securing himself inside. Knowing that no one would be looking for him, a black oval appeared on the stall door. Stepping through it, Ate found himself in the restroom of his apartment before the portal closed shortly after him.
Groaning, sickness suddenly hit him. This was going to be a long day.
"Well, that was weird," one of the patrons said as the odd man crossed the deathly quiet floor and trundled off to the restroom.
"Too right," his companion agreed somberly.
No one ever actually went to the pub except for cultists. They waited until they sensed he'd departed. Shapes came out of the woodwork... literally... as dozens of them stepped into view. The juke box was unplugged and a lively Irish tune was struck up by several patrons. The walls dissolved to reveal a 1940's era British pub replete with a picture of George VI on the wall. The atmosphere became lively as they bantered over war stories or gossiped about townfolk. Someone challenged a small group to a game of darts and wagers were made over the outcome.
This was the atmosphere that Will's messenger walked in to. The short Scotsman read the proclamation and the pub once again became somber. A few gasps and a hell of a lot of complaining later, and business returned to usual. Only now the proclamation hung next to King George. None of them were entirely happy over the prospect of housing War's former Nazis but orders were orders and Minerva's lads were loyal down to the last man.