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The World's End Tavern

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Blevins indicated the veiled young woman who entered with a wave of his glass. "Take her, for example," he said softly. "Dressed like a European gypsy, just a hint of Faraway Araby in her dress. But I'm not sure anyone has costumed up like that for fifty years, in my time, outside of a Renaissance Faire, and certainly not out and about in central Pennsylvania."

His senses analyzed her fabrics, the chemistry of the dyes, the traces of dust that clung to them, just as he had with Rayne, just as he had with everyone. All from different places, all from different times. It annoyed him; how was he supposed to find his way back if he couldn't figure the place out.
 
Arial sat down at the bar and looked at the bartender calmly. "may I have a whiskey sour please?" As the bartender fulfilled her order she removed her veil, sometimes it just made her feel sufficated. She played with the lace feeling the texture between her fingers, even though she despised the piece of fabric she kept it with her always. Her mother had made it just for her, just before her death.
She was snapped out of her memories by the bartender returning with her drink. "Thank you" she replied. She took the drink from him and sipped it calmly.
 
Into the tavern would walk the vampiric kitsune, her red eyes shimmering as she tilted her head to the side, looking rather bored as she crossed her arms over her chest, cladded in black leather pants and a wife beater, her nine tails swayed behind her and as she moved to the bar, taking a spot, those red eyes shimmering like blood pools as she smiled softly, letting out a soft yawn as she would wag her tails and tap her nails on the bar top, a small growl coming from her as she sighed.
 
The neko entered the tavern, looking around at the various people sitting around the tables and bar. He walked over the the bar and sat down, stretching on the stool, his tail swaying slightly as he did so. "A simple beer mate" he said to the bartender. He looked around, his eyes lingering on the kitsune for a few seconds. He turned back to the bar as the beer was placed in front of him, he took it, taking a long slow draft before putting it down. "Ahh.... That's good.."
 
Her blood pool like eyes would shift to the neko as her tails swayed behind her, tilting her head to the side, her black hair shimmering under the lights of the tavern, a small smile on her lips as she would cross her arms over her chest, propping up as she moved to the bar and sat down, tilting her head to the side as she looked over what they had to offer for drinks and such.
 
Kotaro watched the kitsune out of the corner of his eyes as she lifted her chest up. Returning his eyes to the bar as she began to move. He was sure she had looked at him as well but didn't try to confirm it. He finished his beer and called to the bartender "Another beer mate".
 
Her eyes would shimmer softly as she tapped her nails on the bar, tilting her head to the side as she would move to look and see if they had any blood, she sighed softly as she tapped her nails on it with a sigh.
 
The bartender filled his glass and placed it back on the bar in front of Kotaro "Cheers.." he muttered as the bartender moved away to serve other customers. Kotaro took a small sip this time, not wanting to waste all his money at once.
 
He jumped slightly as she asked him, not expecting her to say anything. "Umm.. I dunno.." he glanced at her, noticing her canines. "H-have you asked?" he said, a little nervous.
 
She would look at him and blink softly, figuring she had scared him she looked away, letting that long black hair fall over her face as she looked down at the bar her red eyes shimmering softly as her nine tails would wag, smiling a bit as she yawned.
 
He looked back at the bar, the hair on his back standing up slightly, fear hormones being let off. "Umm.. Bartender? Do you serve 'blood?"
 
Blevins nudged Rayne again. "See, in my world, apart from a few humanoid alien races, we have very few animal-people. There's Cat Ballou of the Southwestern Regulators, they're a super-team that operates out of Phoenix, Arizona, and there's the Silver Fox, who's a scientist that got caught in a trans-genic experiment and turned to super-villainy. But beyond that, you won't see many animal-folks sidling up to the bar. But a place like this, it's normal." He sighed. "So, are you jut passing through, do you have a job here, or did you show up by accident?"

His brow furrowed as he glanced more closely at the fox-woman. The eyes and such were a cosmetic thing, he'd have no way of knowing what was normal for her people, but her body temperature was lower than expected, and he let his senses delve a little deeper, finding her whole internal system designed differently than he would have expected. How much of it was from her fox heritage, and how much was because she was some kind of... and then he overheard her asking if they sold blood. So, suspicion confirmed, then.
 
With a hiss, a pop, and a mostly unremarkable inversion of the color of darkness, a gray-haired man in a charcoal suit appears, sprawled on the floor. "Waa?" he gurgled, then, upon removing his revolver from his mouth and standing shakily to his feet, he repeated himself, with clearer enunciation. "What is this? Where am I? Oh God oh Christ this can't be. I was so sure there was nothing! I should be worm food!"

Looking around the room, a wood-paneled tavern dimly lit by smoky old oil lamps, Mr. Chandler surveys the room, which seemed to take less notice of him than suicides normally warrant. "Here I am, about as inconspicuous as a tarantula on a slice of angel food, but look at all of them... well, at least Hell has a bar". Nervously, Mr. Chandler walked over to the barkeep and ordered one of what would become a long stream of gin martinis. Walking over to a corner to collect himself, he muttered, "I always say a man ought to get drunk at least twice a year just on principle, so he won't let himself get snotty about it."
 
Etheria had no idea what to expect as she stepped inside. First, she assumed that the person who ran it, was sure to dislike her. Second, she did not expect to stay long. She had other things to tend to. Her mistress didn't like it when she was gone for too long. Or so it seemed. Pushing her mask up a bit more, she couldn't help but over hear the man.

"I always say a man ought to get drunk at least twice a year just on principle, so he won't let himself get snotty about it."

Smiling, she couldn't help herself.

"A man after my own heart."
 
A hot dry current sloughed through the mountainous piles of drunkenness and depravity piled in the seats around him, stirred by ceiling fans wreathed in tendrils of smoke, glazing the wooden blades yellow with unabsorbed nicotine. It could curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. 'On nights like this every booze party ends in a fight', Mr. Chandler thought to himself, 'Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge.'

A masked albinoid figure had just crossed the threshold, the door swinging in the sulfuric air. Her mouth covered by the suggestion of a mask, he heard her chuckle at his alcoholic proclamation. "Miss, could I trouble you for a cup of explanation? Where am I, and what did I do to get sent here?"
 
Talons stirred through the dust caked on the floor of the World's End. Trygon snorted softly, then sneezed explosively, blowing a patch of faintly smoldering dragonfuel onto the floor. It burned through the wooden planks, which started to mend themselves. Trygon chuckled softly, and crossed the room, before leaping onto the corner of the bar. He idly gouged chunks out of the hardwood counter as he got comfortable in his customary perch. His tail slithered behind the bar, coming up with a bottle of brandy. He stared at the label for a moment before finding the proof - 80, more then sufficient - then leaned back and dropped a hand to the bar fridge, coming up with a cold coffee drink. He popped it open, poured in a shot of the brandy, and settled back on his haunches as he looked around the dusty, long-deserted tavern. It was good to be home.
 
Yukina couldn't help but stagger a bit as she got to the doors of the Tavern. She had already drunk quite a bit before leaving her home so she decided that more alcohol would be just fine. She turned her head to check behind her before opening the doors. Poking her head in the door, her head rolled to the side lazily. She wasn't sure what this place was but she knew it had booze. That was all that mattered to her. She needed it after her fuck of a day. Three people dead and she still hadn't gotten her damned job done. Six grand didn't seem worth all of this trouble. She wanted to kick her boss's teeth in for paying her so little on this job. Looking over to the bar from her place at the door, she looked the "person" at the bar and spoke up.

"HEY! Got any room for a lady in here?" She called across the bar, unsure of her own volume.

She looked the "person" over once more before actually entering the tavern. She wandered over to one of the seats, having small issues staying on her feet. She smiled at him as she sat and piped up once more.

"So what you got to drink in this place?"​
 
Trygon blinked languidly and turned to look at the severely intoxicated girl that had just entered. He cracked a grin, showing off a wall of pointed teeth out of the corner of his mouth, and hopped off the counter, landing behind the bar. He rested an elbow on the counter, and gestured expansively to the wide assortment of bottles resting on the shelves behind him.

"Pick your poison, girlie. If it gets you fuckered, rest assured we've got it."

He tipped back the glass bottle, draining his drink. With a flick of his wrist, the bottle flew into a wastebasket, and he capped the brandy, returning it to it's place. He scanned the bottles momentarily, before grabbing a drink so green it seemed to be nearly glowing. He dropped one hand to the bar and jumped, vaulting it. His wings pumped at the air once, setting him to the ground deceptively lightly, and he crossed the room to her table, not bothering to collect glasses. The dragon settled his bulk into the chair across from her, and set the absinthe in the center of the table between them.

"I'm guessing you've already had your run on normal alcohol. How about something a little different? I know some wood elves that brew this up. They claim it's mostly mundane... Mostly. Except for the 'secret ingredient'. I have no idea what that is, except that it's something magical. Fucking elves. You know how it is."
 
Flutter walked into the tavern her hood pulled far forward hiding her face in shadow her cloak wrapped around her slight form hiding her from the other patrons she allowed her gaze to travel over each one slowly lingering on the bartender slowly slipping off her hood and loosening her cloak revealing her ash colored skin and snow white hair and a very revealing dark gray gown with streams of fabric for a skirt her silver eyes locked on the one behind the bar sliding her way towards an empty table in the back in the shadows fingering the small pouch on her hip.
 
Trygon watched the girl enter, one brow ridge arcing as she stared him down. Sure, he was a half ton eight foot black scaled monstrosity, but this girl must at least be somewhat aware of Dragons. He leaned on the bartop, and grinned, displaying a mouthful of needle teeth, smoke pouring from between.

"Welcome to the World's End. What can I get for you, brighteyes?"
 
Van happened to be in a good mood, so he wore his flashy assassin form this day. Pushing some of his luminescent green hair out of his face he walked across the room to sit at the bar. "I'll make ya a trade dragonbreath. A toothbrush for a double of wild turkey, the honey one... can't remember the name exactly." He leaned against the bar with a furrowed look as he concentrated on trying to remember the name of the whiskey.
 
Trygon blinked slowly, and turned his attention to the technicolor assassin sitting at the bar. Without a word, he grabbed the bottle marked Wild Turkey Honey, and turned the label so Van could see. He blinked again, languidly, giving him plenty of time to take in every nuance of the complicated title, before he grabbed a tumbler, filled it with the drink, and set it down in front of the rave refugee.
 
It had been some time since he had graced this place, but after having since the return of the black dragon god himself, Damien had decided that maybe it was perhaps the right time to return to the very place he met him oh-so long ago before it was frozen in time for all to have passed through.

Damien had arrived on the scene dressed in his usual attire this evening despite there was a strong scent of blood on his clothes, possibly after doing away with some poor fool that had the audacity to ruin a certain area of this world with their abhorrent foolishness. Nevertheless, despite the smell of blood and death upon his being, Damien looked as though he had nothing on his mind tonight as he stepped into the World's End Tavern once again, grinning at Trygon as if though he had reunited with a long lost brother of sorts.

"Trygon, my good sir," Damien began as he then extended his arms outward like he was reaching for a hug then began walking over to the bar with his arms hanging by their respective sides. "It's been too long since I have last seen you. So tell me. How have things been for you? Surely you must have some sort of story tonight for me to listen to." He concluded as he sat down on a stool next to the multicolored assassin.
 
"The night rolls on. Life has been mostly uneventful, I'm afraid."

The dragon produced a packet of cigars from under the bar, extracted one, and blew a low, blue flame across the tip, before dragging some smoke and exhaling the pale blue mixed with his natural sulfurous fare.

"Mm... Delicious. How's life on our little moon treating you, Damien?"
 
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