Ram's Head Saloon [Mod-Sanctioned C/CLT]

[G-Tech Corporation]

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully at the question. "It depends what you mean by hungry, of course. I don't usually go quite so long without a snack, though my personally preferences on repaste tend to be rather exotic. I'm not saying misbehaving patrons will be disappearing and my appetite will concurrently be on its way to satisfaction... but, indeed, if such a thing were to occur, I would be less than surprised." I smiled at Indian, displaying a mouthful of oddly shiny teeth.

"As for the sleeping, eh, time can be a bit strange. That said, I've woken up under more bars than I care to recount."

[Kyrusia]

For a moment, as the saloon began to fill, Mister Mouffan looked disgruntled. With a gaze cast askew to the newcomers, he quietly stepped toward a small board set beside the bar. Across it were tattered daguerreotypes, photographs, several news clippings, and even a hand-held holographic projector oh-so-unceremoniously nailed through to the stud. Again, Mister Mouffan cast his eyes across the saloon, murmuring something under his breath. Without further adieu, he politely pinned a note to the board before making his way back behind the bar...

The employees of the Ram's Head are there to help. They will help. Mister Mouffan will provide drinks, Mister Fontaine will play a tune - all the usual. Don't expect a representative of Management to come in and wait tables.

— Management

---

Note on Godmodding and OP-created Characters

---

Further, there is to be no godmodding; this means no declaring/presuming/dictating the actions of another player's character without their consent. This includes killing their characters. Player consent is required and cooperation is strongly encouraged; if you want to get into a fight with another character, approach things sensibly. That being said, dictating the actions of the posted saloon employees is not only accepted, but encouraged. Feel free to portray them within their roles, providing you drinks, etc.

[UIJ]

"I feel like we know each other..."

"I feel as if you're the the opposite of Jesus. Now I would sit near you but as you can see," he pointed to his wobbling legs "I can't exactly move my legs correctly."

"Opposite of god, but yeah. Do you need like, a wheelchair or something?"

[Neolvex]

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully at the question. "It depends what you mean by hungry, of course. I don't usually go quite so long without a snack, though my personally preferences on repaste tend to be rather exotic. I'm not saying misbehaving patrons will be disappearing and my appetite will concurrently be on its way to satisfaction... but, indeed, if such a thing were to occur, I would be less than surprised." I smiled at Indian, displaying a mouthful of oddly shiny teeth.

"As for the sleeping, eh, time can be a bit strange. That said, I've woken up under more bars than I care to recount."

John looked over his shoulder "I'm not sure to either be intimidated or feel sorry for you." John's legs than gave up under him and he crashed with a groan "I'm ok... I think."

"I feel as if you're the the opposite of Jesus. Now I would sit near you but as you can see," he pointed to his wobbling legs "I can't exactly move my legs correctly."

"Opposite of god, but yeah. Do you need like, a wheelchair or something?"

John smiled as he pushed himself up "Probably but it messes up the style you know?"

[Taigawa]

Kyrati walks in, having had herself teleported in. "So I guess I should make the best of things before I need to go sign off on more architectual drawings."

[Futrellia]

Ol' Jack One-Eye walked in through the old western-type double doors. His face wrinkled, his facial hairs and head hairs silvered from age, ushering in a new era of wisdom for the man. He looked around, scanning the areas, he saw the bar itself, but panned over it to see everything else.

"So this is Ram's Head?" One-Eye said to himself.

The look of disgust quickly washed over his old, tired face. Visibly, Ol' Jack was anything but impressed. He had see dozen of bars, bigger and better than this place. He wandered countless regions and saw many things he had wished he could unsee.

*Spitoon clanks nearby as Ol' Jack nails it with expert precision*

"It'll do."

He whispered under his breath, beginning to clank as he walked with heavy, black, leather boots, his duster flapping in the wind, leaving a thin trail of dust where he walked.

Ol'Jack walked to the bar, grabbing the back of the seat, he sat down, the chair squeaking as he rested himself upon the chair, which looked pristine.

"Barkeep! Send me a Kentucky whiskey on the rocks, double time!"

[Low bloods]

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

[Dalvius]

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully at the question. "It depends what you mean by hungry, of course. I don't usually go quite so long without a snack, though my personally preferences on repaste tend to be rather exotic. I'm not saying misbehaving patrons will be disappearing and my appetite will concurrently be on its way to satisfaction... but, indeed, if such a thing were to occur, I would be less than surprised." I smiled at Indian, displaying a mouthful of oddly shiny teeth.

"As for the sleeping, eh, time can be a bit strange. That said, I've woken up under more bars than I care to recount."

"Hoh. I like you."

For a moment, as the saloon began to fill, Mister Mouffan looked disgruntled. With a gaze cast askew to the newcomers, he quietly stepped toward a small board set beside the bar. Across it were tattered daguerreotypes, photographs, several news clippings, and even a hand-held holographic projector oh-so-unceremoniously nailed through to the stud. Again, Mister Mouffan cast his eyes across the saloon, murmuring something under his breath. Without further adieu, he politely pinned a note to the board before making his way back behind the bar...

The employees of the Ram's Head are there to help. They will help. Mister Mouffan will provide drinks, Mister Fontaine will play a tune - all the usual. Don't expect a representative of Management to come in and wait tables.

— Management

"Such advanced technologies strapped together in such an unprepossessing fashion. Shame."

[UIJ]

I rubbed my chin thoughtfully at the question. "It depends what you mean by hungry, of course. I don't usually go quite so long without a snack, though my personally preferences on repaste tend to be rather exotic. I'm not saying misbehaving patrons will be disappearing and my appetite will concurrently be on its way to satisfaction... but, indeed, if such a thing were to occur, I would be less than surprised." I smiled at Indian, displaying a mouthful of oddly shiny teeth.

"As for the sleeping, eh, time can be a bit strange. That said, I've woken up under more bars than I care to recount."

John looked over his shoulder "I'm not sure to either be intimidated or feel sorry for you." John's legs than gave up under him and he crashed with a groan "I'm ok... I think."

"Opposite of god, but yeah. Do you need like, a wheelchair or something?"

John smiled as he pushed himself up "Probably but it messes up the style you know?"

"I guess....?"

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

(That's pretty normal if you ask me, and shouldn't be a problem.)

[Neolvex]

For a moment, as the saloon began to fill, Mister Mouffan looked disgruntled. With a gaze cast askew to the newcomers, he quietly stepped toward a small board set beside the bar. Across it were tattered daguerreotypes, photographs, several news clippings, and even a hand-held holographic projector oh-so-unceremoniously nailed through to the stud. Again, Mister Mouffan cast his eyes across the saloon, murmuring something under his breath. Without further adieu, he politely pinned a note to the board before making his way back behind the bar...

The employees of the Ram's Head are there to help. They will help. Mister Mouffan will provide drinks, Mister Fontaine will play a tune - all the usual. Don't expect a representative of Management to come in and wait tables.

— Management

Shortly after Mister Mouffan nailed the note to the wall, another person walked into the bar. The man looked slightly worked up about something and constantly tugged on his red flannel jacket as he made his way to the bar. "Hello fine sir, how much is your finest scotch?"

[Crurnlark]

A weathered, shadowy form enters the main room, and grabs a piece of chalk, beginning to cordon off a near fourth of the room. It suspiciously glares at the folks already setting up in the bar area, hissing at anyone who got close.

[Futrellia]

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

Ol' Jack One-Eye heard the doors clatter once more, and almost in a few milliseconds, Ol' Jack would twist his torso to see who had walked in.

Ol' Jack seemed a little cautious by the man, twiddling his fingers in the like, his eyes darting across the area.

"Hey, boy! The hell you doin' here? Get over here. Come talk with me." Ol' Jack let out a quiet chuckle as he watched the Barkeep prepare his Whiskey.

"Make that two, Barkeep!"

[Dalvius]

A weathered, shadowy form enters the main room, and grabs a piece of chalk, beginning to cordon off a near fourth of the room. It suspiciously glares at the folks already setting up in the bar area, hissing at anyone who got close.

Avraek, holding back a grin, stuck a finger inside the square just to see the reaction. It was clear that the man wanted to be alone - even though it made no sense that he went into the saloon if he did want to be alone. Still, it was worth the effort and possible pain to do something like that.

[Kyrusia]

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

[I see no reason you couldn't type in your preferred font color, insofar as it is not garish.

And again, folks, feel free to roleplay Mister Mouffan, Mister Fontaine, etc. on your own. Mods are busy people. We're not going to always be here to do that for you.]

[Neolvex]

John looked over his shoulder "I'm not sure to either be intimidated or feel sorry for you." John's legs than gave up under him and he crashed with a groan "I'm ok... I think."
John smiled as he pushed himself up "Probably but it messes up the style you know?"

"I guess....?"

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

(That's pretty normal if you ask me, and shouldn't be a problem.)

John grabbed onto a nearby chair and lifted himself onto it before responding "Don't guess. Guessing gets you killed. Or loses your legs. Like me."

[Taigawa]

A weathered, shadowy form enters the main room, and grabs a piece of chalk, beginning to cordon off a near fourth of the room. It suspiciously glares at the folks already setting up in the bar area, hissing at anyone who got close.

"Now what gives you the right to own a good forth of the primary chambers?"

[G-Tech Corporation]

I shrugged noncommittally as my drink arrived, taking the slightly dingy glass full of dubious liquid and knocking back a full quarter of it in a single swing. It seared my throat going down, and the dull explosion of rather unadulterated kerosene pleasantly suffused my body.

"Honestly, I'm just here to sit in the corner and pass the time." Some memory was returning, at least, as my brain cells began dying under the influences of the malign cocktail. "The manager thought some more eyes on affairs would be best, and there are some really excellent smoking booths here."

Speaking of which, I elegantly dismounted my chair, crossing on creaking leather boots with from travel to one of those very booths. Away from the hearth-light and guttering torches the one I chose was wreathed in shadow, and I seated myself in the corner farthest from the bar. Only slightly visible in the gloomy atmosphere of the Ram, I patted about my coat until at last I came across my pipe. Lighting up the ebony implement, a cloud of dark vapor swiftly enveloped me, the only thing easily visible the red coals of that smoking implement.

[Haja-Mishu]

*A tall silhouette opens the bat wing doors and walks in, the person is clad in various forms stereotypical Mexican attire, the sombrero, the poncho, and the overly snazzy boots*

"Dios Mio this is degrading..."

*Person's face is revealed to be Arotex as he walks into the light, the throws all the stereotypical clothes in the nearest bin with the exception of the poncho*

"This place smells like horses, dust." *sneeze* "Alcohol and... The rule of law? What a nice smell..."

*Arotex surveys the room to see who exactly is populating the dusty establishment*

"Satan, some dude who I think helped my country continue it's independent streak, a stranger, and oh, Avraek. How you guys holding up?"

[Kollin]

(I feel so uncomfortable with that OP. It's like here's a normal F7 chill thread OP: "hi")
(Here's yours: *EXTREME DETAIL AND RULES INTENSIFIES*)

(Which is nice. But I do have to suggest some things that would highly improve this thread...)

(1. You should probably add "No godmodding", as that actually quite common on these threads, and it's just as annoying in F7 as it is anywhere else.
2. There needs to be a universal way of IC and OOC talk. "Like this is in character speak." *this is an action* and this is just describing something. (And this is OOC). This is very important I believe, as it helps everyone understand each other much better.
3. Maybe a few more "no godmodding" like rules. If I recall from the one I ran, I had like, "no killing other characters unless the other player is cool with it.")

(That's really all I got right now. But let me just say, I'm extremely sorry if this came off as rude, demeaning, or anything else. And if this post just isn't okay or something, just tell me and I'll...i donno, I'll do what put you tell me to I guess. And sorry if there's any mistakes, I'm extremely tired right now....;_;)

(I hope any of the mods or if it's just you Kyrusia, that you'll take my suggestions into consideration. If not, that's cool, it's your thread, not mine. And I'm just me. I had something cool and witty to say, but I forgot....oh well...)

(Sorry again if this is unwelcome.)

(As far as i remember, the majority of us actually just use "This is dialogue" and anything outside quotes or parentheses is usually descriptors supporting dialogue. Although from the past, i have indeed personally found your view of the whole asterisk to be handled in a rather ham fisted way that shafts anyone using a more traditional style, that being the one i just described. I distinctly remember being told that, essentially, i'd go completely ignored, with you encouraging it just because of that. I do certainly hope that no version of that persists here, especially if all 3 little communities, or what's left of them, are to be blended together.

Regardless, i myself, will never - ever, use that asterisk nonsense. That is non-negotiable to me, it's just a habit i killed long ago, and no one's gonna resurrect it

Now, who to start with, perhaps a new fellow i met...)

Flanked by, i daresay, only a Mildly terrifying squad of what appear to be not only average soldiers, but engineered super beings, just from the look of them, their escort a tall, robed and hooded figure which stepped out from their perimeter. With a swift turn of the heels, a quick gesture, clearly the salute their organisation had adopted was exchanged, before the otherwise very disruptive looking... 'guards', turned to leave for their own business elsewhere.

A heavy sigh suggested a level of exhaustion that the rather lazy wardrobe selection had already voiced support for. Though unlike some travelers, this one was kind enough to at least remove the head covering indoors, rather than hide themselves. Beneath the simplistic hood was revealed a largely humanoid facial structure, the skin tone seemed to take a bit more emphasis on the otherwise 'undertone' of human skin, usually called a blue or violet undertone, one which supported dark colors. The brown robe certainly did not compliment well, making the odd pigment more noticeable, though it also made the silent explanation very clear as well, if the height alone had not already given it away. From the usual telltale combination of height and ears blatantly pointed this being was of somesort of elvish origin.

While special heritage was obvious, the face, and what visible of the body there was, were largely androgynous in nature. More than gentle enough to easily be mistaken as a feminine form, though still having enough of the more masculine considered 'rough edges' look, supported by a few visible patches of muscle tone that seemed more influenced by a masculine origin than any other. Their voice yet unheard, and hair a median length that gave nothing away to aid this question, the exhausted elf - of whatever nature they may be - took a seat at the bar and browsed a list of drinks to make the night go away, if only a bit faster.

[UIJ]

"I guess....?"

(That's pretty normal if you ask me, and shouldn't be a problem.)

John grabbed onto a nearby chair and lifted himself onto it before responding "Don't guess. Guessing gets you killed. Or loses your legs. Like me."

"Sorry, I suppose."

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

A weathered, shadowy form enters the main room, and grabs a piece of chalk, beginning to cordon off a near fourth of the room. It suspiciously glares at the folks already setting up in the bar area, hissing at anyone who got close.

Avraek, holding back a grin, stuck a finger inside the square just to see the reaction. It was clear that the man wanted to be alone - even though it made no sense that he went into the saloon if he did want to be alone. Still, it was worth the effort and possible pain to do something like that.

"Oi bud."

[Crurnlark]

A weathered, shadowy form enters the main room, and grabs a piece of chalk, beginning to cordon off a near fourth of the room. It suspiciously glares at the folks already setting up in the bar area, hissing at anyone who got close.

Avraek, holding back a grin, stuck a finger inside the square just to see the reaction. It was clear that the man wanted to be alone - even though it made no sense that he went into the saloon if he did want to be alone. Still, it was worth the effort and possible pain to do something like that.

That thing was no man. It lunged, biting at Avraek's offending finger.

A weathered, shadowy form enters the main room, and grabs a piece of chalk, beginning to cordon off a near fourth of the room. It suspiciously glares at the folks already setting up in the bar area, hissing at anyone who got close.

"Now what gives you the right to own a good forth of the primary chambers?"

The shadowy creature stared at him with softly glowing yellow eyes.

[Neolvex]

I shrugged noncommittally as my drink arrive, taking the slightly dingy glass full of dubious liquid and knocking back a full quarter of it in a single swing. It seared my throat going down, and the dull explosion of rather unadulterated kerosene pleasantly suffused my body.

"Honestly, I'm just here to sit in the corner and pass the time." Some memory was returning, at least, as my brain cells began dying under the influences of the malign cocktail. "The manager thought some more eyes on affairs would be best, and there are some really excellent smoking booths here."

Speaking of which, I elegantly dismounted my chair, crossing on creaking leather boots with from travel to one of those very booths. Away from the hearth-light and guttering torches the one I chose was wreathed in shadow, and I seated myself in the corner farthest from the bar. Only slightly visible in the gloomy atmosphere of the Ram, I patted about my coat until at last I came across my pipe. Lighting up the ebony implement, a cloud of dark vapor swiftly enveloped me, the only thing easily visible the red coals of that smoking implement.

The man in the red flannel, who was seated at next to him at the bar, cocked an eye brow at him "'ey! Whats in t'e pipe?"

[Dalvius]

(I feel so uncomfortable with that OP. It's like here's a normal F7 chill thread OP: "hi")
(Here's yours: *EXTREME DETAIL AND RULES INTENSIFIES*)

(Which is nice. But I do have to suggest some things that would highly improve this thread...)

(1. You should probably add "No godmodding", as that actually quite common on these threads, and it's just as annoying in F7 as it is anywhere else.
2. There needs to be a universal way of IC and OOC talk. "Like this is in character speak." *this is an action* and this is just describing something. (And this is OOC). This is very important I believe, as it helps everyone understand each other much better.
3. Maybe a few more "no godmodding" like rules. If I recall from the one I ran, I had like, "no killing other characters unless the other player is cool with it.")

(That's really all I got right now. But let me just say, I'm extremely sorry if this came off as rude, demeaning, or anything else. And if this post just isn't okay or something, just tell me and I'll...i donno, I'll do what put you tell me to I guess. And sorry if there's any mistakes, I'm extremely tired right now....;_;)

(I hope any of the mods or if it's just you Kyrusia, that you'll take my suggestions into consideration. If not, that's cool, it's your thread, not mine. And I'm just me. I had something cool and witty to say, but I forgot....oh well...)

(Sorry again if this is unwelcome.)

(As far as i remember, the majority of us actually just use "This is dialogue" and anything outside quotes or parentheses is usually descriptors supporting dialogue. Although from the past, i have indeed personally found your view of the whole asterisk to be handled in a rather ham fisted way that shafts anyone using a more traditional style, that being the one i just described. I distinctly remember being told that, essentially, i'd go completely ignored, with you encouraging it just because of that. I do certainly hope that no version of that persists here, especially if all 3 little communities, or what's left of them, are to be blended together.

Regardless, i myself, will never - ever, use that asterisk nonsense. That is non-negotiable to me, it's just a habit i killed long ago, and no one's gonna resurrect it

Now, who to start with, perhaps a new fellow i met...)

Flanked by, i daresay, only a Mildly terrifying squad of what appear to be not only average soldiers, but engineered super beings, just from the look of them, their escort a tall, robed and hooded figure which stepped out from their perimeter. With a swift turn of the heels, a quick gesture, clearly the salute their organisation had adopted was exchanged, before the otherwise very disruptive looking... 'guards', turned to leave for their own business elsewhere.

A heavy sigh suggested a level of exhaustion that the rather lazy wardrobe selection had already voiced support for. Though unlike some travelers, this one was kind enough to at least remove the head covering indoors, rather than hide themselves. Beneath the simplistic hood was revealed a largely humanoid facial structure, the skin tone seemed to take a bit more emphasis on the otherwise 'undertone' of human skin, usually called a blue or violet undertone, one which supported dark colors. The brown robe certainly did not compliment well, making the odd pigment more noticeable, though it also made the silent explanation very clear as well, if the height alone had not already given it away. From the usual telltale combination of height and ears blatantly pointed this being was of somesort of elvish origin.

While special heritage was obvious, the face, and what visible of the body there was, were largely androgynous in nature. More than gentle enough to easily be mistaken as a feminine form, though still having enough of the more masculine considered 'rough edges' look, supported by a few visible patches of muscle tone that seemed more influenced by a masculine origin than any other. Their voice yet unheard, and hair a median length that gave nothing away to aid this question, the exhausted elf - of whatever nature they may be - took a seat at the bar and browsed a list of drinks to make the night go away, if only a bit faster.

"Uhp. New Babylonian. I think."
"Hey man. Or woman. Or...uh..."

Avraek, holding back a grin, stuck a finger inside the square just to see the reaction. It was clear that the man wanted to be alone - even though it made no sense that he went into the saloon if he did want to be alone. Still, it was worth the effort and possible pain to do something like that.

That thing was no man. It lunged, biting at Avraek's offending finger.

"Now what gives you the right to own a good forth of the primary chambers?"

The shadowy creature stared at him with softly glowing yellow eyes.

Avraek lunged backwards just in time.
"You ass!"

John grabbed onto a nearby chair and lifted himself onto it before responding "Don't guess. Guessing gets you killed. Or loses your legs. Like me."

"Sorry, I suppose."

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

Avraek, holding back a grin, stuck a finger inside the square just to see the reaction. It was clear that the man wanted to be alone - even though it made no sense that he went into the saloon if he did want to be alone. Still, it was worth the effort and possible pain to do something like that.

"Oi bud."

"Hey. Also doing good Arotex."

[Low bloods]

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

Ol' Jack One-Eye heard the doors clatter once more, and almost in a few milliseconds, Ol' Jack would twist his torso to see who had walked in.

Ol' Jack seemed a little cautious by the man, twiddling his fingers in the like, his eyes darting across the area.

"Hey, boy! The hell you doin' here? Get over here. Come talk with me." Ol' Jack let out a quiet chuckle as he watched the Barkeep prepare his Whiskey.

"Make that two, Barkeep!"

"A-Ah" he pauses and clears his throat as he walks over and took a seat, his hands shaking as he works up a smile and held out a hand "May I get your name my good sir?"

(Well this is great... But I have a question since I usually do this in these, can I change the font color of my character? I figured I'd ask before doing anything out of the blue. As for now I'll just keep it simple.)

Crise shies into the saloon, he twiddles his fingers as his eyes dart around.

[I see no reason you couldn't type in your preferred font color, insofar as it is not garish.

And again, folks, feel free to roleplay Mister Mouffan, Mister Fontaine, etc. on your own. Mods are busy people. We're not going to always be here to do that for you.]

Thanks, and well noted for the future.

[Neolvex]

John grabbed onto a nearby chair and lifted himself onto it before responding "Don't guess. Guessing gets you killed. Or loses your legs. Like me."

"Sorry, I suppose."

"Are you sure you don't need help?"

Avraek, holding back a grin, stuck a finger inside the square just to see the reaction. It was clear that the man wanted to be alone - even though it made no sense that he went into the saloon if he did want to be alone. Still, it was worth the effort and possible pain to do something like that.

"Oi bud."

John chuckled a bit "Me needing help? Please!" John sighed and attempted to lean back in his chair before realizing that it was damn-near impossible to do so with your legs. He awkwardly reverted to picking up his leg and laying it on his other one "Umm... Yup. Don't need help." He looked straight into the eyes of Satan. His eyes burned a simple message help me.