Discovery Gaming Community

Things were quiet in the pub. The gunmetal metal walls had been covered with laquered wodden panelling and various black and white photos of smiling grimy faced Mollys crammed into cramped ship compartments covered the wood, hung at odd angles. Nearly all of the photographies were armed with pistols and flagons of drink.
Behind the worn wooden bar, the wall was lined with bottle upon bottle of Molly whiskey and a few older gentlemen with grey hair and hunched backs from years of sitting inside cramped mining ships sat scattered around on little wooden tables, sipping at glasses of the aformentioned whiskey. A hand-painted sign hung over the bar; If ye got teh fight, use ye fists like a man!
Leaning with his hairy elbows on the bartop, his hands working the stuck top of a whiskey bottle, was Nick O'Flannigan. Under his bushy ginger beard, his mouth mumbled various curses as his huge hands fumbled with the cork.
"Ah feck it!" he shouted, smashing the bottles neck on the bar and pouring the amber liquid into his mouth, dribbling it down into his beard.
"Keep it down Nick ye' feckin' eegit!" one of the old men exclaimed as he jumped at the noise, "me heads already poundin' from yesterdays hangover, I dine' need ye' cussin' an' shoutin'!"
O'Flannigan thumped the bottle down on the bartop and belched loudly.
"Seamus, I didn't complain when ye' was pissin' against me' dukebox the other day did I?" he shouted back, "so feckin' shut it ye' washed up old drunk!"
The man went back to nursing his whiskey, mumbling to himself fervently about "them feckin' younger Mollys havin' no respect feh' the older gent'."
Taking up the bottle again and passing an eye over the older regulars, Nick took a swig from the broken bottle-neck and started cleaning glasses, waiting for the pub to fill...

Geoffrey Douglas strolled in confidently, he looked over the bare pub with a sharp eye and walked over to the bar top. He turned to see a oath of a man on his left and sniggered to himself.

"What a waste" he thought as he caught the bartenders attention with a slow wave of his right hand.
"I'll have a swig of what he is havin'" said Geoff as he discretely pointed to the man next to him.

He took a swill of the liquor and exhaled loudly due to its strong taste. "Another matey". He waited for more people to join the room who weren't as violent as the man next to him. Geoffrey had never been one for idiot alcoholics.

Nick poured another drink for the man.

"Top'o'th'mornin' there Geoff me' old mate," he said, smiling through his whiskey dripping beard, "hows tings' out in Dublin at the moment?"

Geoffrey swung around his stool and looked at the man, eying him up see if he was a physical threat.

"Err, 'Ello... who are ye'?" he squinted his eyes and nose at the smell of the man.

"And aye, Dublin is alright. Only a few moments ago, about one hour me t'inks I flew out with two of t'e mates and shot down a new "AIM" convoy. Buggers said "This is now our territory, clear off" and they tried to act like we're NOTHIN'!"

He slams his fist on the table in anger and quickly had a mood swing

"Well naturally, they got killed for such stupidity."

A punk probably in his 30's with a cockatiel on his shoulder entered. Carefully eyeing everyone in the bar he sat down next to Geoffrey. He gestured to the bartender.

"Gimme a cold beer, lad."

Eying up the newcomer with suspicious eyes, Nick reached for a beer glass.

"Who're ye'?" he asked bluntly as he slowly and professionally pulled the pint from the tap behind the bar, "ye' don't look like no Molly I ever saw."

The punk smiled.

"I ain't a Molly. I am from the Volksfront."

He didn't make any attempt to explain himself future and instead grabbed his drink.

"Volksfront?" Nick enquired, "them boyos what got their arses kicked outa' Rheinland an're hidin' on our bases?"

The punk shakes his head.

"Didn' they tell ya anythin'? Da Volksfront are still in Rheinland. Da Volksfront is in Rheinland and they are in Bretonia.

Da government outlawed the People's Party o' Bretonia a wee while ago as I'm sure ya've heard. So now we made a deal wi' those Rheinlanders. They provide us with organisation, guns and training to kick that b*** Carina o' her lil' throne."

Geoff turns to the newcomer. With surprise he looks at him up & down. His face covered with disgust. He slowly opened his mouth..

"What, the **** are you then? You trying to pass the 'prick' award? Where ye' come from ya' git, surprised you made it to the bar, you look like a real twat in ma' eyes..."