Character Bar (Explicit, 18+)

Vermin: I would say that it's the Asgardians who need the humans. Nothing is so black and white as being a servant or you're useless, people range from importance and power. I would say I've met a good amount of people who don't have to work under the pretense that they're doing something because they were commanded by a higher being.

Sir Reginald: I quite agree with you Vermin. A knight may serve under the king, but even we know that even without our knighthood, we can be useful in the world.

Gillian: Placing value on something you cannot relate with is... It isn't right.

Hellant: I'm not with them. Aw, the water drained away, anyway, I must bid you adieu. I'm ure many of you are happy to see me go, and always remember, even the most selfish of people can still be true and good. Now I will take my leave, and this bottle of, what is this? Arin grabs a bottle marked kerosene off the counter and walks through the door.

 

Orlinde: Enjoy that...

 

Sapphire: ...fuck, we missed any excitement there was.

Kathryn: No, I'm pretty sure it just stopped for a minute. Let's get something to drink.

Sapphire: I don't think they let you drink if you're under 21 around here.

Kathryn: Well, that's just dumb.

Sapphire: Preaching to the choir, Kath. Preaching to the fucking choir.

Kathryn: Anyways. Who else is here?

 

General Volkov: Hey look at the fresh meat Corporal. They should join
us for a drink.

Corlixia: Well ma'am that is your choice. We still have half a bottle of Vodka.

 

Sapphire: Fresh meat, huh? If you're implying that we'd be an easy fight, you're dead wrong.

Kathryn: Sapph, don't be hostile.

Sapphire: I don't like being called 'fresh meat', okay?

Kathryn: I get it, but let's try and stay peaceful. In any case, as far as the drink offer goes, I'll pass. Can't speak for Sapphire, though.

Sapphire: Yeah, sure, I'll have a bit. I'm kinda curious.

 

*Jester waddles over to Kathryn & Sapphire in his penguin costume and MOLLE vest, rifle in one hand by his waist*

"Howdy do? I'm Jester. What're you drinking? We can find just about anything here."

 

Sapphire: ...Kath, I think we made a bad decision in coming here.

Kathryn: I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for why this guy is dressed as a penguin. *beat* No, you're right, we fucked up big-time.

Sapphire: Well, for what we're drinking...if it's true that you can't drink around here until 21, then something non-alcoholic, I guess.

Kathryn: Yeah, doesn't really matter what. Just don't get us drunk, even if we're allowed to have alcohol.

 

Kathryn: ...what the hell are those?

Sapphire: On second thought, I'll just have water. I don't think what I've got with me is gonna cover it if I need to fight. Which I probably will, since everyone here seems to be insane.

Kathryn: You're probably right there. I'll just get one of those fizzy things people have nowadays. Soda, right?

Sapphire: That's it.

Kathryn: Yeah, I'll have that.

 

Jester: *Glares at Tax* You wanna dance, Groot?

 

Alec: You know who Groot is? COOL!!!

Amy: Dude, don't distract them when it looks like they're about to start fighting! Charlie and I have $500 riding on who kicks whose ass this time!

Charlie: We do not.

Amy: She said the tree would win –

Charlie: I did not.

Amy: – because the penguin guy doesn't look right in the head enough to come up with a good plan, but penguin guy's survived an apocalypse so far with a Ruger, so clearly the guy's got some amazing hand-to-hand combat training.

Alec: Huh. I would've thought she'd put her money on the tree –

Charlie: I would not have.

Alec: – just because we've seen the tree get hurt before, so she'd have to know he can take it, but she don't know how fragile Penguin is.

Amy: Wait, are you agreeing with me or disagreeing with me?

Alec: ... Yes? I think?

Charlie: Wait a minute: Kathryn, Sapphire, is your author really only 12 years old?

Alec: Wait, seriously? That's –

Amy: Awesome! 12 years old and already writing?

Alec: I was gonna say a 12-year-old shouldn't be in the Adult section.

Amy: Why not? I was only 15 when –

Charlie: Stop. Both of you.

Alec and Amy: Got it, boss.

 

General Volkov: Cor, what the hell is everybody's problem in here?
All they want to do is pick a fight, or is a horn dog.

Corlixia: I do not know. We simply are here to have a drink, and leave
the fight on the field. Though it has been established according to the
owner of this cantina that none can die while inside, but that does not
mean they cannot succumb to harm.

General Volkov: Da, that is a fact. (Knocking back another shot.)
Perhaps I should ask an Armor squad in here. They might play nice
when there is several tonnes of metal that can tear a mans arms off
like the wings of a fly.

Corlixia: Perhaps.

General Volkov: Or perhaps we just enjoy the show. Let them
beat the shit out each other. Too bad the Empress is not much of
a drinker, otherwise she might find this entertaining for a fashion.
(Pulling 2 tungsten slugs from her bandolier). Hey penguin boy!
(Slapping the bullets on the table). Kick that tree things ass!

 

In a freshly-minted imaginary universe, a young woman and her slightly older “gentleman caller” are at one corner of an enormous bed. The room is lit with indirect lighting which has the characteristics of moonlight. They just finished doing the deed, and she needs to tell him some important things. She’s not great with words though. How to even start…?

The movement in the room, such that it is, freezes (except for her, that is). All sound stops too — all the little sounds you don’t even notice until they stop, like the air blowing from the vent and the nearly-muted noises from outside. The light becomes a strange blue glow and the bedroom wall she’s facing turns into a milky screen. It’s the 4th Wall, and she’s breaking through it into… what?

As the milky screen drains to clear, she sees a crazy tavern filled with ordinary folk of many time periods from the Bronze Age through Galactic Empire; not to mention assorted gods, demons, aliens, fantastic creatures, and an Eldritch Horror tending the bar. Although some of the other patrons are nude, bare-breasted, or don’t seem to find clothing to be an applicable concept, she establishes an Irrelevance Field around her body. In the medium of text, one does not need to pixellate or black out certain details; rather, they are simply not relevant and are never described, remarked upon, or noticed by other characters or brought to the reader’s attention. Too late, she realizes that she should have done something about her hair, too.

What everyone can notice: She’s 23 years old, olive completion, and chestnut hair, and a true hourglass figure. Her eye color is not yet revealed in the narrative, but nobody will find that remarkable because it’s also not Relevant.



Cindy: Hello… first time here. First time anywhere, really. Can I talk to someone around here about awkward relationships?

 

*Vincent nods*

Vincent: That's the plan. Padre, Die Knöchelbiter, if you please.

*Padre yawns and squelches his radio three times.*

*Vincent smiles*

 

Cindy: Vincent, are you talking to me? Who’s this Padre?

 

Vincent: No, I was talking to General Volkov. Padre MacDougall is my mentor.

*Padre, who looks a lot like Stephen Lang, smiles and waves. He's wearing his black kilt with a T-shirt that says, "KILTS" in front, and "'Cause Balls Like These Don't Fit In Trousers" on the back. A Colt .45 rests on his hip, and an AK-74 across his lap.*

*A heavily armored JLTV bursts through the wall, with a sharpened snowplow blade on its front, and an M2 machine gun up top. The driver is a short, heavy-set man with a boyish face, wearing a safari hard top hat and a brown leather duster. The gunner is a musketeer with an English bastard sword on his hip and a Mosin-Nagant on his shoulder, and an array of a dozen semiautomatic handguns on his vest under the cloak.*

*They wave, very enthusiastically, and grin.*

Musketeer Brian and Duster John: You rang?

 

General Volkov: My lovely blue friend here is all kinds of awkward, and in
a relationship with our Ober-Commander. Though I find it sweet, it too is a
bit strange.

C orlixia: Thank you Red Wolf...(blushes in embarrassment, pouring another
shot.)

General Volkov: (Raising a full shot) Best of luck to you, make your mentor proud.

 

Vincent: *Raises a thumbs up inside his flipper to the general* Corporals, stand by. Arbor Day here might want to throw down. I see you cleaned the blade. Good. Is it just you guys?

Brian: Captain Blair is in the back...

Vincent: Good!

John: ...with Major Tommy.

Vincent: Fuck.

Padre: Easy lad. Remember what I told you about emotions.

Vincent: Yeah, I do. *Swigs Jack Daniels* Still...fuck.

Padre: You wanted to talk about awkward relationships, miss?

 

Corlixia: Do think it is wise to bet against the plant creature?
Reason I ask, is that from my observation during operating
on the plant based female rescued from Callisto looked delicate,
but her internal structure was highly resilient.

General Volkov: Da, but you have to remember that plants
don't move so quickly due their type of metabolism. Besides
speed is going to play a factor in deciding who will win the
fight. Although I would skip a confrontation entirely by
dousing it in volatile liquid and lighting them on fire.

Corlixia: I must admit while crude and cruel you are most
correct.

General Volkov: When you have killed as much as I have you
learn to do at range, or with minimal effort. Getting in a fist
fight with a half dozen combatants, and you better be fucking
fast and not waste time.

 

Cindy: Yes. I dialed up the Adult character bar not because I wanted to use bad language — I am a lady, after all — but to talk about so-called Adult Themes. Anyone around from Romance or Erotica genres that might share their wisdom?

she bats her amazingly luscious eyelashes

Cindy: I’m completely inexperienced here. In fact this, (thumbs back to the portal to her bedroom) is my first experience, if you know what I mean.

Cindy: Killing won’t solve my problems. I specifically want to not hurt anyone close to me.

 

Sapphire: Our author ignores this forum for 16 fucking hours…

Kathryn: …crap, we missed the everything. And yeah, she's 12.

Sapphire: Luckily we're not, though. We were not doing well at age 12.

Kathryn: In any case, I'm approximately 99% certain that I have no idea what the hell is going on.

 

Vincent/Jester: I still have no idea what's going on, in my world or in this chat. Don't sweat it. But, uh, twelve? Fudge muffins.

 

Kathryn: …did you just censor yourself?

Sapphire: Don't do that. Please, just don't.

Kathryn: *takes Sapphire's hand* How'd you manage to not know what's going on in your own world?