M
Midnight Lass
Guest
I love this bar, Dandy thought to himself.
Jim "Dandy" Shatner was sitting quietly in the corner of "The Flying Toupee", a rough and tumble tavern on the edge of the city that catered to an adventurous crowd. The bar was packed with airship crews and caravan guards and all the sorts that made their livings on the edge of the Frontier that the Steam Age had opened. It was a rough sort of crowd that came her to blow off steam, but things never truly got out of hand.
For one thing, the owner was Dandy himself, who could quickly put a stop to things getting out of hand. Dandy a giant of a man who had made a name for himself by getting into and out of more scrapes than a dozen men could do in a lifetime. True, Dandy was just shy of fifty years now, and allowed a comfortable layer of fat to settle on that giant frame, but there was still plenty of muscle underneath that layer of fat, and if Dandy had lost a step or two, he made up for it with almost three decades of fighting experience across the world.
And Dandy had hired the staff of the Flying Toupee with an eye for how they could handle trouble. So things might get a little wild from time to time at The Flying Toupee, but never out of hand, and certainly never enough that the local constabulary had to involve itself.
At the moment, Dandy was sitting in the corner, waiting for a young friend of his to arrive, one Orson James. Dandy had heard that Orson had earned enough to buy himself a Zeppelin, and was looking for a crew to explore the interior of the Lost Continent. And Orson had sent Dandy a message about Dandy joining the crew.
Dandy smiled at the server who refilled his mug, then sighed as he patted his own paunch. A decade ago, Dandy would have jumped at the chance to be part of Orson's grand adventure. But Dandy was comfortably retired from the adventuring life. He enjoyed having a warm bed to go to every night, with the only adventure being cracking two heads together if some his tavern's patrons got a little too boisterous.
Still, Dandy liked young Orson, and felt he owed him a favor or two, so he was going to let the lad have a pint or three on the house, and perhaps he could steer young Orson in the right direction in recruiting his crew.
Satisfied with his decision, Dandy drained his mug and motioned for a refill.
Jim "Dandy" Shatner was sitting quietly in the corner of "The Flying Toupee", a rough and tumble tavern on the edge of the city that catered to an adventurous crowd. The bar was packed with airship crews and caravan guards and all the sorts that made their livings on the edge of the Frontier that the Steam Age had opened. It was a rough sort of crowd that came her to blow off steam, but things never truly got out of hand.
For one thing, the owner was Dandy himself, who could quickly put a stop to things getting out of hand. Dandy a giant of a man who had made a name for himself by getting into and out of more scrapes than a dozen men could do in a lifetime. True, Dandy was just shy of fifty years now, and allowed a comfortable layer of fat to settle on that giant frame, but there was still plenty of muscle underneath that layer of fat, and if Dandy had lost a step or two, he made up for it with almost three decades of fighting experience across the world.
And Dandy had hired the staff of the Flying Toupee with an eye for how they could handle trouble. So things might get a little wild from time to time at The Flying Toupee, but never out of hand, and certainly never enough that the local constabulary had to involve itself.
At the moment, Dandy was sitting in the corner, waiting for a young friend of his to arrive, one Orson James. Dandy had heard that Orson had earned enough to buy himself a Zeppelin, and was looking for a crew to explore the interior of the Lost Continent. And Orson had sent Dandy a message about Dandy joining the crew.
Dandy smiled at the server who refilled his mug, then sighed as he patted his own paunch. A decade ago, Dandy would have jumped at the chance to be part of Orson's grand adventure. But Dandy was comfortably retired from the adventuring life. He enjoyed having a warm bed to go to every night, with the only adventure being cracking two heads together if some his tavern's patrons got a little too boisterous.
Still, Dandy liked young Orson, and felt he owed him a favor or two, so he was going to let the lad have a pint or three on the house, and perhaps he could steer young Orson in the right direction in recruiting his crew.
Satisfied with his decision, Dandy drained his mug and motioned for a refill.