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The Baroness; Space Station above Verbena
Topic Started: Jul 11 2012, 04:59 AM (37,500 Views)
loneviking
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Master of Disaster

The Baroness floated motionless over the red scoarched planet of Verbena. The space station was of admorable size, for a floating bar. Consisting of five rings orbiting a central disc shaped hub, the station offered docking and refueling on its outer ring, lodgings in its four inner rings, and a large bar which was placed neatly in the centre of the hub. The station was then bulked out by a series of large solar panels and various satellite placements.

Inside, the station was poorly lit and encased in cold steel. Pipes and wires ran in and out of walls carelessly, and as one walked they would occasionally see a broken bottle or a stack of broken crates.

The bar itself was a large place, full of tables and television screens. There were three entrances to the bar from the most inner ring. On the side where there was no entrance, a large bar table ran across, behind which could be found the largest assortment of liquors and wines in the Verse. In the corner of the bar there was a small postal office that was usually bustling with activity from spacefarers and the like trying to get any news from home. The bar patrons were no less varying in flavours. Local drunkards, businessmen, companions and military officers all socializing in the same bar, at the same time, and with few conflicts (most likely due to its advanced weapon scanning technology). The Baroness showed both ends of the 'Verse: its dark sides and its light sides; it's rich and its poor; the tolerant and the utterly intolerant.
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ian dugan
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Cap'n
Ian sat in the bar, at a table, near one of the big picture windows. If he leaned over, almost flat againt the table, he could just bearly see the tail end of his beloved ship.

The Mayfly Transport that was named the Glory.

He sipped his tea and shook his head.

My, how the mighty have fallen, he thought.

He had run out of money. He had tried to keep the big ship afloat, even bought it out right from the Lane Estate. It was his now. But he had no crew and fewer prospects.

He was looking though.

For both, for either really. But you cant do a job with out a crew. Its one a the things that you'll be damnned if you do or ya dont. Cant keep a crew without work, but cant do work without no crew.

He had been here over two weeks without getting either.

His money was runnin low.

If something didn't happen soon, he have to sell the ship back to the Lane's

"What a revoltin prediciment."

At least the tea was good.
Ian Dugan

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Dis-memberment - 1,Coma - 3, Kills - 1
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

Wolfgang Idaho sat towards the rear of the bar at a booth, his back planted firmly against the layered glass that seperated him from darkness of space. His positioning was intentional so that he could be aware of anyone that approached him. He had lots of enemies and even fewer friends. Sipping his bottle of ale he looked out the window and watched silently for a moment, taking in the eerieness of the planet Verbena below. For a split second, he felt poetic in how the scorch marks on the planet reminded him of his own scars in life. That feeling faded though with another sip of his ale. It felt good to strech out after flying 2 weeks on that cramped cargo shuttle. He was able to hitch a ride by handing over his remaining credits and his last magazine of ammo. All he had left in his hand cannon, a modified desert eagle was a single bullet in the chamber, waiting for the person it was going to belong to. Who that person was, he did not yet know.

His hand instinctively went to the drop down holster on his right leg, his fingers trailing the emptiness of it. He felt naked having to secure it in a lock box before entering the bar. "Gorram detectors" he spoke softly as he looked over to the weapon scanners at each entrance. He tapped his fingers against the table, looking around the bar. It wasn't very busy right now, only a few spacefarers and smugglers from what he could tell. "At least no Alliance." he thought to himself, relieved. But he wasn't about to let his guard down. He looked over towards the bartender, Bruno was his name. A balding, thin, pale looking of a man who was nicely dressed in a tux like outfit. But from what he had heard, he was the guy to go to in the area if you needed a Job. And thats exactly what Idaho was needing.
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Becker
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First Mate
Michael checked his guns in at the door and received a key which he promptly pocketed. It was a routine he was used to, life brought him through The Baroness often, just as it did for many spacers. In this case, Mike was fresh off a quick job that was putting credits in his account and keeping him living decently.

Having entered, Mike began crossing the room with the bar as his target. He took brief glances around the room, not looking for anything, just looking. A double take was given to a noticeable man, Mike even walked backwards to get a good look on second viewing, but he was soon removed from sight by the walls of the booth he resided in. It was the eyepatch that had caught Mike's attention, but as the sight was lost the man was disregarded.

Michael reached the bar and when met with a questioning look by the bartender, Mike pointed at the beer he wanted, held up his forefinger to indicate one bottle, then uttered a 'please' as he waited for his order. In waiting, he leaned against the bar with his side and laid his eyes on a most interesting sight. After paying for his poison, he made an approach to that sight.

Hopefully unnoticed, he was stood to the side of Ian Dugan, just a little further back and he too looked out of the window.

Quote:
 
"What a revoltin prediciment."


"No. Revoltin' is not staying in touch with a friend." A small smirk showed itself, but Mike put the bottle to his lips to cover. He continued to play down the reunion, still staring out of the window, as he waited for his former captain to notice him.
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Khei
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Digital Menace
After a bit of fancy footwork and trying to not attract unwanted attention, Khei had managed to wriggle herself free from her hiding place and get off the ship she had stowed away on.

"It's Easy" he said. "Just find a ship going to Baroness" He said. That Hwen Dan!

She brushed off the dust from a shoulder and attempted to straighten her hair a bit before entering the bar.

She didn't like bars.. She wasn't much of the drinking type. She wasn't terribly fond of drunkards either. This, however, is where she had been told she might find work. Work.. Something she needed desperately. She gave a polite nod as she passed the scanners without incident and made her way to a table, flopping down into it and tossing her backpack onto the tabletop.

When a waitress came to the table to inquire about an order, Khei rummaged through her pockets, pulling out what few credits she had left.

Whatever food and drink this'll fetch me. Water'll be fine to drink actually.

She watched as the woman disappeared into the back and let out a sigh, allowing her eyes to scan over the patrons in the joint. She'd learned early on that it was best to know where everyone in a room was and try to judge who might be trouble and who might not.

Work.. Finding work was the tough bit. She decided to get some food in her belly before she worried about finding work. She still couldn't quite figure out just exactly how one found oneself a position on a crew.

Hmm.. Food first.. Work later..
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CaptainNickHunter
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Mudder
It had been a very long time.

Nick Hunter entered from the transit that deposited him at the docking ring, and found his way along the snaking corridors, run with wiring and exposed pipes to the bar. Slipping his two pistols into the rotating weapon storage, and taking the key with him, he stepped into the Baroness and found a small table in the far corner. He found the seat and sat down. Yes, it probably would have been a better idea to pick up his drink first, then sit down, but, it had been a while, five years in fact, since he'd last been at the Baroness, and the place hadn't changed much. He ran his hand along the table and took in the amalgam of people from all over the 'Verse, despite having been a regular customer many years ago, the mass of diversity still was fascinating.

He stood up, deciding the view would be better through a glass of amber, and found his way over to the bar, and placed an order for a scotch and water.
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Sam I Am
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Reavers Love Slave
Entering the Baroness bar, Cal checked his gun and knife, slipping his key into the inside pocket of the jean jacket he was wearing, alongside his credits. On less than law abiding places like this, it was best to keep valuables away from sticky fingers. It had been years since he last visited The Baroness, and he'd managed to not dock on the skyplex more than most spacers, so it wasn't overly familiar. Still, ports were ports, and attracted the same kinds of people across the 'Verse. Present company included. Hopefully there was a captain (or two) in need of some crew hereabouts, because Cal didn't want to be stuck on The Baroness longer than he could help.

Figuring the bar was as good a place as any to try to overhear any job prospects, he slipped through the crowd and into an empty space barside next to a man who'd just ordered a scotch and water.

“I'll have a black and tan,” he said to the bartender, then gave the man next to him a curt nod of greeting and acknowledgment.
Callum Avery
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ian dugan
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Cap'n
Even though it had been several years since Ian had any "real" training, oncce a Spec Warrior, always a Spec Warrior.

One of the reasons he had sat at the table by one of the main view ports was so he could see what was going on behind him. He had a wide view of the bar but still did not see Becker when he approched as he had stopped just beyond Ian's view.

As it was, Ian smiled when he heard that familiar voice.

Becker
 
"No. Revoltin' is not staying in touch with a friend."


He stood as he turned, his crooked smile on his lips and in his eye.

"Michael Becker. How in the Nine Major Hells or Orthac are ya."

The 'Verse had lots of hells.

Ian offered his hand then offered Mike a place to sit with the other one.

"Sorry about not writin, life got in the way."
Ian Dugan

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Dis-memberment - 1,Coma - 3, Kills - 1
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Grav
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Rednomore
In a secluded corner of the stations main bar, out of sight - out of mind, Joseph eyed up what remained of his drink, rotating the glass around so that the liquid never seemed to stop moving. "Smart plan." he let out, almost hidden in an exhaled breath.

Then as if by habit, his eyes darted up and quickly scanned the surrounding area. One by one, each patron and whatever junk happened to by nearby was marked, then back down to his rolling drink. He sniffed the air. No, nothing going on here, but the place had the atmosphere alright. One mighty fine powder keg. Thugs, civvies and off duty purplebellies, hell maybe even a legitimate human being or two.

Joseph had not seen a finer recipe for disaster in a good few months. With things going the way they were, he gave himself at least another three weeks before s**t actually hit the fan. He just hoped it wouldn't be here.

Gorram space stations. What was wrong with the fraking ground? Fancy and all, necessary even, a layover point which held its appeal. Speaking of which, one his fingers twitched in recognition, pausing his game of try not to spill the drink, and emptying what remained in the glass into his mouth.

Rot gut alright. Not bad to pass the time with, but you wouldn't want to go on the rip with it. He placed the glass back onto the table and arched his back, stretching and he further relaxed. Well, what now?
Stephen Tiberius
"Handsome" Harry Mallow
Travis "TK" Kamino
Col. Samuel Brock - XO Dreadnaught

I say potato, you say potatoe, he says roll plus six sword of Doom.
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

Idaho watched as other travelers slowly poured their way into the bar. Not recognizing any of them, he went to his pocket and pulled out a cigarette carton with a blue sun logo on the front. Pulling a cigarette out, he lit it with his silver encased lighter and inhaled the death smoke, holding it for a few seconds and then exhaling. Looking back at the carton he realized it was his last one. Tossing the empty carton on the ground he observed a small automated cleaning droid quickly come and collect it before driving off to complete other programmed duties. What a fix this is. Can't even afford a death stick. he thought to himself as he laughed quietly. Looking around the room it began to sink in even more that he was going to be stranded here until an opportunity arose. Taking a few more sips of his ale, he leaned back and closed his eyes briefly, enjoying his last cigarette. The fire of the cigarette gently providing more light to the dark area in which he was sitting, giving those walking by a brief silhouette of his face.
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Tojoyama
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Cap'n
Sonya Gulliver had plans. Big plans. The end of the verse was coming, and there was much to do to get ready. Supplies needed to be procured, taken to the right places. Ships lined up, hide-away havens. The rebels had supplied the money, just one of the factions she'd rubbed up against to get the connections and proper paper money.

So she was ready to start making said purchases, putting supplies to their cache. And then she noticed Glory docked on the manifests. Or rather it had been called to her attention. So she hurried there.

Her attire was mid-fair. None to rich, but classy to show enough status. The perfume though she splurged on. You don't get many chance at an ounce of Lovecraft #9. Her lone bag was now in lock up, with the big .50 cal in it. It wouldn't be going into the bar anyway. Just enough cash to maybe convince someone to go steal some guns and goods and take them to her choice of location.

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Gulliver entered and went to the bar. She ordered a vitamin water from a bottle, spoke to the burly patron next to her, who it turned out was not a male burly at all. No matter. She waited for the bartender to overcharge her for her water,
"Skunk walks into a bar, ordered a drink. 'We don't get many skunks in here'. 'No said the skunk, and at these prices you won't get many more."

Sonya smiled at them both. Old stupid joke, but one she knew she could pull off. She looked good. She felt good.

But Sonya Gulliver was at Baroness to get bad.
Get a lot of bad.
Sonya Gulliver Description
Africa Chamberlain Description
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Khei
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Digital Menace
Khei watched the goings on elsewhere in the bar from her quiet little table as she waited for her order. She didn't expect to get much for what little money she had given the waitress but she was still surprised at just how little she got.

The waitress made her way to the table, narrowly avoiding a couple of drunkards who looked like they were maybe a word away from starting a bar fight, and set down a small plate with half a sandwich and a half full glass of water.

She visibly frowned at the meager rations, a reaction the waitress obviously noticed as she gave Khei a comforting hand on the shoulder.

"The water is actually more expensive than booze I'm afraid. Sorry bout that hun. You have yourself a good meal though."

Khei couldn't take her eyes off the sandwich. Half a sandwich. Back on Beylix she would have at least been able to get a whole sandwich. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn't even really hear the waitress.

Yeah.. Sure.. Thanks..

With a sigh, she resigned to the indignity of eating the half a sandwich..

Meanwhile she idly continued to scan the patrons in an effort to try and pick out who might be offering work. She'd noticed one man who seemed to look out the window an awful lot. She thought he could be the captain of a ship. Then again he could be keeping an eye out for feds. She took a mental note. Either way he was of interest to her. After all, she wasn't interested in being too close to feds herself.

She was caught off guard when a woman wearing perfume came in. Perfume wasn't something Khei was used to and the scent, even in a bar, was strong enough to make her gag and her eyes to burn. It reminded her of the first time she'd opened a can of a coolant that had a ripe scent. All be it, this wasn't quite so bad, or foul, but was quite unusual. Richy Unusual. Most folk didn't have cashy money for such fancy things. Khei, again took a mental note. Could be someone offering work.

She finished off her water and leaned back in her chair, thinking to herself.

Hmm. Possible work prospects. Maybe. Soo.. Now what?
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Becker
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First Mate
Quote:
 
"Michael Becker. How in the Nine Major Hells or Orthac are ya."


Michael gave a fair smile as he watched Dugan raise, turn and greet him with an unfamiliar reference. His right eyebrow raised a little as he ran the phrase through his mind before showing defeat. "The nine major whats now?" It wasn't a question that needed an answer.

Mike quickly placed his bottle on the table then took a grasp of the hand Ian offered. He lent forward, bringing their shoulders together so that he could pat his friend on the back in a manly fashion.

Quote:
 
"Sorry about not writin, life got in the way."


"Ah don't worry, I was only ribbing ya." Whilst speaking, Michael took the seat at the table. A light touch slid his drink across the table to where he was place. "It's good too see ya."

There was one thing on his mind as he looked over at Ian. Glory, the place he had been most happy but also the place he had seen grounded. That was the reason that old friends had gone separate ways. Still, Mike held off on approaching the subject directly, waiting for it to come up organically.

"So what have you been up to since we last saw each other?"
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Grav
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Rednomore
Well, that was enough of that. With his glass now empty and having no particular desire to suffer its taste any further, Joseph placed the plasti-glass tumbler upside down on the table. With his free hand, he struck the flat base of the container with his ring finger. No echo of class or money, just a muted thud.

He leaned back in his seat, taking another moment to eye up the competition. Typically boring. What was it about space that seemed to take the life out of everyone? Must be something they were mixing with the recycled air, sounds like their style alright.

But this is where he'd heard talk of, The Baroness. Drop in, have a drink, and you'll find it or it'll find you. What exactly it was differed from person to person, but so far he'd had no luck. Whether that was his style or not was open for debate.

Joseph sighed quietly, rolling his eyes away from the drinking patrons and tilting his head back. Ah yes, much better. His now unimpeded view of an overhead maintenance hatch truly had him lost for words. He could almost make out some years old etchings which had made their way onto it.

"Just one more." He read aloud, puzzled for a moment until it clicked.
Stephen Tiberius
"Handsome" Harry Mallow
Travis "TK" Kamino
Col. Samuel Brock - XO Dreadnaught

I say potato, you say potatoe, he says roll plus six sword of Doom.
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

Suddenly 4 men entered the bar wearing brown dusters and cowboy hats. Prior to entering the bar they had scanned an ID card at the weapon scanner, appearing to temporarily deactivate the device as they entered into the main bar area. The weapon scanners then appeared to reactivate. The 4 men walked through the bar, splitting up as if they were looking for someone.
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Khei
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Digital Menace
Khei's attention was grabbed by the appearance of the four men. Had she been a cat, her hackles would have been raised.

Visibly, she remained calm, watching the movement of the group as best she could as they split up. Her gut told her there was gonna be trouble. She just hoped that it didn't mean trouble for her. They didn't look like feds but that didn't mean they weren't. Nor did it mean they weren't bounty hunters.

She tried to appear disinterested, although, she scooted her chair to the side a bit and kept her left hand on her pack to make it easier to get up and make a break for it should she need to.

Where she would run to was something she hadn't thought about. She hoped that she wouldn't have to figure that out anytime soon.
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Tojoyama
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Cap'n
Gulliver hadn't noticed the hijinks with the scanner, but she did figure the four men might make for good hirelings. Mean and tough looking. But she'd need a herdsman to watch over the likes of them.

Which of course was the main reason she was here. Where was Ian Dugan and crew of Glory? She hadn't spotted him yet. Or anyone she recognized. After another sip of the water she left a coin on the bar to cover it and a little more.

She started to make her way around the tavern oblivious to the rising tensions and reactions caused by the new arrivals. This was a civilized place after all. They took everyone's guns, that meant civilized right? Sonya frowned. A little talk to those men would be difficult now that they had split up like that.

Like that. Were they looking for someone? This could be interesting. She cocked a hip slightly, stood and watched.
Sonya Gulliver Description
Africa Chamberlain Description
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Falstaff
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The Chief
In the second stall of the men's bathroom of the Baroness, an old man stirred to life...

Jack let out a pained groan, his body rolled over from his side to his back, grey eyes flickering open to stare at the florescent bulbs in the ceiling. He winced at the sudden brightness, his skull ached with regret from yesterdays revels. Or was it this morning? Jack couldn't rightly remember. Space stations lacked seasons, and as as result, he was having a mite bit of trouble keeping track of time. The past few weeks had been a vicious cycle. He'd spent nearly all his coin at the bar about a week ago, the last transport shoving off from the dock without telling him, or maybe he'd missed the departure time in a drunken haze. The Old Man was sure the transport had been glad to be rid of him. Jack rummaged about in his coat pocket, producing a small silver flask, the initials JC scrawled in knife point across it's otherwise unblemished surface. Jack fumbled with the container's top for a minute before removing it and emptying it's contents down his throat. There wasn't much left in there, perhaps half a shot, but it was enough whiskey to send that all-too-familiar burning sensation down his throat and over his chest. He replaced the flask within the folds of his coat and began the difficult task of standing.

Blood rushed to his head as he rose, sending the world into a bit of a tilt and would've nearly toppled the Old Man had he not braced himself against the side of the bathroom stall. Jack patted himself down, checking his pockets. His wallet was gone, not a surprise, but whomever had decided to rummage through his passed out condition had mercifully left him otherwise unmolested. However, much to his chagrin, his hat had somehow managed to find itself within the confines of the toilet bowl. Jack stared at it for a long moment, trying to determine whether the battered old thing was worth saving. He shook his head slowly and pushed open the stall door, which gave way with a rusty whine. He approached the sink, complete with a small mirror, more shards of glass than whole reflection. The lines on Jack's face were accented by deep bags under his eyes, and a large bump on his temple, already turning a lovely red and purple with bruising.

"Well Ain't You a Sight.." Jack mutter to no one in particular, turning on the faucet and spending a few moments splashing luke warm water on his face. Once accomplished, Jack leaned down to his boot, rummaging about the side of it for a moment before growing impatient and pulling the whole thing off of his foot. Several coins clattered mercifully to the tile floor. The old man scooped them up and counted. 1.. 2.. 5.. Enough for another drink, maybe two if he stuck with well-whiskey. Jack pocketed the coins, replaced the boot on his foot and walked out of the bathroom.

Can't wait to see what today's got in store for me.. The Old Man thought to himself as he headed for the bar, barely registering the 4 men who had bypassed the nu-tech gunscans at the door..
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ribsource
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Sarge
It had been a while since Remy had been in the black. For the past months he had been teaching the next crop of Companions, and they had more male companions who could take over his position. He was glad, he loved his job, but he also didn't like being restricted to one area. He had been on a boat before, made friends, made contacts, but he was called back, now he was allowed to leave, he was going back to what he had done before.

Find a boat, rent a room, and start a traveling business.

He was wearing a dress shirt to go with his sarong. Leaving his hand weapons at the door, he placed the keycard in his sidebag, sitting down near the side of the room with no one behind him and able to see out into the sea of people in the bar. He people watched. He liked to do it, using his natural empathy, and his ability to 'read' people to make sure that he was in no danger. The bar wasn't rough per say, but he was always on watch

A server came over to his table bringing Remy a jar of water, a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses. Remy places his hand together in a prayer motion, and nodded at the server, always keeping his eyes on him. He held out his keycard, swiping it, thus paying for the drinks

He opened his PDA, using it to see if there were any prospective clients that he could benefit from his business.
Remy Rokash ~ Companion ~ inactive
Blaine Blair ~ Bounty Hunter
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loneviking
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Master of Disaster

Idaho had seen the 4 men enter. He knew what they were. "Goram." He looked at his options. There wern't any. If he had tried to make his way to one of the three exits they would surely notice him. "Feds." he gritted his teeth together. There was still a chance they wern't here for him, but that chance faded once one of the men approached Idaho and reached his hand inside of his duster. Idaho instinctively went to his drop holster but remembered his weapon was secured. The man pulled out a modified Alliance revolver and pointed at Idaho's face. A federal marshal badge was pinned to the inside of his duster. The man spoke to Idaho. "Lieutenant Wolfgang Idaho. You are bound by law for the crimes of Treason and Murder." Suddenly 3 other barrels appeared in Idaho's face. Idaho surrendered without a fight and let the heavy irons be placed on his hands. There was nothing he could do. Idaho was then led out of the bar in irons with the 4 feds escorting him at gunpoint. The bar had become silent while this was going on and once they had left, the noisy environment started up again.
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