I think it might be good to go. Whole server host died permanently. Migration required upgrades and code changes.From here patrons can overlook the lake and take in cool breeze under the moonlight.
There are 0 people here The most recent statement was made about 655 hours ago.
Scott Rawlins: *Enters the bar and comes back out a moment later with two glasses and pitcher of beer* Never know who my show up thirsty *plops down in a chair and fills one of glasses* Cheers
Scott Rawlins: *Takes a long drink of the beer, looking up at the stars* Never could fucking tell the constellations apart
Son of Magnell: *A child in a black leather jacket, worn blue jeans, and ancient motorcycle boots strolls out of the bar and walks onto the back deck. He leans with his elbows on the railing, looking at the bar. The breeze ruffles his black hair. He whispers something, and after a while he leaps easily over the railing and, hands in his pockets, strolls down the path toward the lake, vanishing into the forest.... gone*
Scott Rawlins: *Walks around the side of the bar and casually makes his way up the stairs with a yawn* Who the fuck sets up a meeting in the middle.of the night way the fuck out here. Seriously... not in the city they said..too many eyes they said... fucking nerds. Watching too many movies
Scott Rawlins: *Plops down in a chair close to the door and kicks his feet up on the table* Where is this guy? *Speaking to noone inparticular*
Robert Thaltasion Clayt: *pokes his head out the back door and looks around*
Scott Rawlins: *Nearly falls back out of the chair* Sumbitch!!! I shoulda known it was you. Still as pasty faced as ever
Robert Thaltasion Clayt: Heh. Not like I get a lot of sun. *sits down and makes himself comfy at Scott's table. Pulls a flask from a random pocket and offers a drink*
Scott Rawlins: Suppose you're right *politely declines and pulls out a flask of his own* Probably a good thing fir me that you don't. Be bad for business
Robert Thaltasion Clayt: True, true! *Taps his flask against Scott's, then takes a long drink* How is business lately?
Scott Rawlins: *Follows suit, taking his own drink* To be honest, kinda slow. I mean, take a look around, this city aint exactly the hustle and bustle it used to be
Robert Thaltasion Clayt: Depressingly true. Practically a ghost town... in more ways than one. *sighs*
Scott Rawlins: Ha! I understood that reference. *chuckles to himself* Oh, before I forget. *reaches into his inside jacket pocket pulls out something small, sliding it across the table* You know how suprisingly hard it is to find these anymore? *on the table sits a solitary book of matches*
Robert Thaltasion Clayt: *picks up the book of matches, an oddly nostalgic grin on his face* Heh, nice.
Scott Rawlins: *a rather non descript book with the exception of the words "First City Saloon" on the front* Took a trip up north for a bit. Was feeling nostalgic
Robert Thaltasion Clayt: *Raises an eyebrow, grins* Well, in that case I'll trade you. Nostalgia for nostalgia. *takes the book of matches and tucks them into a pocket inside his jacket, pulls out another and tosses them across the table*
~*Patzy*~: ~*Bubbles slowly appeared then quickly amassed within the lake as once glass-still water was disrupted from below. Slowly a figure emerged, bloated, discolored and accompanied by a foul stench of years of aquatic life. Some how hair kept once vibrant pink and purple hues, the Necropolis High cheerleader uniform decomposed and leaving little for the imagination of what laid underneath. Nailess fingers clutched a stuffed green puppet which served more as a sponge these days than anything else.. - she dare not look up. One rollarblade clad foot clomped as the other barefoot moved through sand, muck and possibly snow of the shore. Her path led her to the entry of the wood where she sought one specific tree. Unfurrowed from her other hand fell a noose which after numerous tries due to waterlogged limbs, she managed to lace over a low branch. Freud, the frog puppet was strung up left to freeze to its own demise in the winds and weather of which was to come.*~ Finally you piece of shit fuck. ~*All that was said from between clenched teeth as she punched it waiting for the piece of disgusting fabric to swing back if only to give it a kiss on what should be its head. With that she turned to walk back to the shore and slowly descended back to the depths of the lake*~
~*Patzy*~: (In Memory of Max Buckland / Max Bridges (7/1983 to 12/8/22 who loved all facets White-Wolf, gaming and imagination. One of the wackiest and fun players I had the pleasure of knowing.. just felt right to post up here, even though these rooms are but an echo of what they once were...)
Besus Fufoon: *Enters*
Samantha Haine ~cyberpunk sidhe~: ooc I'm sorry for the loss, Patzy... if I may I'd like to add a memorial of my own for the player of Rayne Tanaka of the Outsiders, who in addition to a great player and friend to many was also the love of my life. There is not a day that passes in which she is not missed deeply.