Bruchsal Base the home of the Vereinigte Widerstandsarmee, known as the seat of revolution in Rheinland is also home to a classy little bar named The Portside Embassy. A curiously named place on the starboard side of the base ran by the ever-philosophical Dutch and his partner, an ape called The Ambassador.
"Some folks say that life, much like a good wine only improves with age. We mature like whisky, soaking in the flavour of our surroundings, adding more depth to the blend.
After twenty years of working the bars all over Rheinland I can tell you something...
Thats a load of sentimental nonsense."
The odd combination of vast intelligence and equally vast stomach that is the man called Dutch turned the once neon filled nightclub into an establishment of modest class. A place of equal parts refreshment and revolution stirred gently with an experienced hand and guarded by a hairy fist.
"Don't mind the Ambassador, he keeps the Kanzler's puppets out of here and collects the empty glasses. Just be sure to nod to him should you meet his eye, old 'Bas doesn't like folks who are too proud to show respect."
The doors are open to the friends of the VWA and anyone who dreams of a better Rheinland.
Dutch stands behind the dark mahogeny bar carefully rolling up the sleeves of his pinstripe shirt. His now exposed forearms are covered in tattoo's, each one has its own occasion and memory, almost like a scrapbook of living flesh.
He snaps his sleeve garters in place and turns to The Ambassador. "What do you think 'Bas? Pinstripes' supposed to make you look thinner." The silver haired ape almost as big as Dutch, simply put his hands on Dutch's shoulders, gave him a kiss then starting laughing.
"I'll remember that next time you want an Admiral mixing!" He looked down at his expansive waistline "Hes got a point, I'll have to cut down."
The Ambassador hung upside down from the bar nodding his head rapidly "You'd don't have to agree, bah who asked you anyway." The ape clapped at him few times, swung over to the drinks and begin pouring himself some rum. "Get me a brandy while your at it and no putting your tongue in the glass!"
Erich, rather shy and unassuming as always, ran a hand through his hair as a set aside the day's copy of Der Früheand glanced around the rather classy establishment. Nodding his silent approval, he chose amongst the more remote seats within the establishment, true to his nervous nature.
As the Verkehr came to a halt in the Bruchsal hangar bay and was refilled with repair 'bots, Jamieson hopped out of the cockpit and clambered onto the deck. Walking into The Portside Embassy, he made his way to the bar with purpose.
"Hey pilot, want a drink? Maybe something to take the edge off?" said Dutch.
"No thanks, but I bet you know what's going around here," replied Iain, although without his usual accent.
"Wait, what?"
"I... I dinnae ken. Just seemed like the thing tae say."
Getting over their mutual bewilderment quickly, Dutch pulled a pint of Vogtland Weissbier, and pushed it over the bar to his comrade.
"I'll tell ye, Rheinlanders ken how tae brew a grand pint; better than half the stuff we used tae get on Leeds.... Maybe after a few more runs tae the Mollys they'll let me haul back a crate or two ae their whisky. Now that is a fine tipple!"
"Indeed, I'm sure they wouldn't mind a keg or two of our own stuff either," mused Dutch.
With a nod to the Ambassador, Jamieson turned from the bar and, spotting him in the corner, made his way over to sit at Erich's table.
A man in his late twenties, earlier thirties walked into the bar. He looked ruffed up, as though he had just came off of patrol. He shook his head, sighing. Taking a seat at the bar he asked for a shot of whiskey. His depressed look spoke of wars untold battling within his mind, being prior Rheinland Military, his thoughts went back to a simpler time. A time when Rheinland wasn't losing on every side and revolutionaries weren't creeping into every nest and asteroid field. Then he'd remember that he was one of them now. One of those he once hunted for sport.
The sounds heavy of boots echo through the room as a uniformed, blue-haired woman walks in. One can now easily distinguish the old Volksfront-veterans from the others. The former sigh and then try to pull off a respectful look on their faces, those closed to the woman's position even standing up and saluting. The others, their faces just show confusion as to what is going on.
The woman notices the monkey named the 'Ambassador' and suddenly quickly walks towards Dutch.
"YOU THERE! What is this for nonsense?! Is that a monkey selling alcohol?!"
Dutch leant back on bar and raised an eyebrow, he'd seen quite a few intimidating folks in his time and this woman seemed to be channelling them all. He'd heard the rumours and didn't much care, she's in his kingdom now.
"No, that's an ape serving alcohol" he replied grinning "A Gaian silverhair if you want to be precise and a damned fine bartender. Come here 'Bas, this lady wants to meet you!"
Although he was no veteran of the various Bundschuh organisations, Jamieson had been warned about Kommandant Eistochter. Taking up a similar attitude to Erich, albeit with a slight smirk to displace the 'respectful' look he had been told to go for.
Leaning towards Erich, Iain whispered "Ye've got tae admire Dutch's courage, that is one intimidatin' woman. We'd probably be able tae get the support ae half ae Rheinland if we set her on them..." Sitting back in his chair, he continued "Good thing I came tae join ye in the corner, we can just stay back and enjoy the fireworks."
The woman puts her hands on the bar leaning forward in a threatening manner.
"You think you are funny? I don't care if he's a good at it or not, if I see that one of the men are drunk in my presence then I will hold that creature responsible. And since it is your pet I will hold you responsible as well and I will send you both straight of the airlock."
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