Sleeping Bear Tavern

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This topic contains 469 replies, has 47 voices, and was last updated by  Nicholas Andersen 1 week, 3 days ago.

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    He resoundingly kicks the pillars by the front door knocking the mud off his boots in large clumps, before stepping onto the porch. He glances about one more time before turning his attention to the front door, then reaching up he lifts the bar and pushes open the door.

    An Ale sure would be nice!” he exclaims as he steps thru and into the room. Stepping over to the fireplace, he eyes the haunch of meat roasting there critically a moment before pulling a blade from his waist while mumbling something about “..not asking too many questions..,” and slices off a couple of strips, skewering them on the end of his knife then turning to survey the room looking for a place to sit.



    Is it just me. Or veterans are starting to comeback here? Lol



    As long as they bring Ale, the more the merrier I say!” Turning in his chair he regards the counter with the vacant space behind it and starts to rise… “And it’s looking like I have to be getting me own damn Ale! Just as well, I wanted a double portion any-hows.



    At that exact moment a double portion sized mug of Ale comes forth from below the counter followed swiftly by the man holding it.
    “On behalf of the new Tavern I welcome ye ol trail companion of mine”
    exclaims the current barkeep then sets the mug of Ale down in front of him.
    “This will splendidly wash down that tasty roasted meat I made for my good guests where as all guests of the Tavern are good”
    he says with a big smile on his face.
    “Brings back loads of awesome memories to sit here again ee.
    Back to the roost is what we made this newest place into for all of the Urbanian folks since here all that is URB has come together agin and much more.
    Enjoy to your fullest the riches provided while entertaining us once more with the tales of yonder the horizon.”
    He then pours himself a big mug full of dark beer, blows away the foamy tower to then raise it high “cheers”.


    Nicholas Andersen

    :O everyone is coming back…It has been quite a while. Hi British, hello Mo-Tah. It´s been a while…good to have you back..



    A barrage of sound interrupts the celebrations. The sounds of someone knocking on the door. After some deliberation as to who will rise from their drink to greet the stranger, Lance volunteers and welcomes the fellow in.

    “Well I’ll be, its like things ‘ave hardly changed!” the stranger exclaims.

    As the tavernfolks’ eyes adjust to the sunlight flooding in from the open door, The Captain comes into view. He pushes the door shut behind him, takes off his hat, and plops down where Lance was sat.

    “Aye, ye can always find a beer here, can’t ye? Same as it always was…”

    He then proceeds to drink from Lance’s mug, still full to the brim with brew.



    With unnatural speed friend Reid somehow manages to swipe Lance’s high held mug o beer as if employing supernatural powers.
    “Same as always but also not, still better then sometimes” the barkeep philosophies out loud whiles his other hand raises another full mug filled to the brim that he almost magically produces from below the deck once again.
    This scene causes astonishing gestures, some more some less, to be thrown from all Tavern guests towards Lance.
    “Tavern Magic! Got to love it, Aye.” he piratically grins and then gulps down the content of the mug in one clean swoop.



    Oh wow it’s like a reunion party up in here, the tavern’s going to need to restock its supplies now that seats and tables are being filled.


    One Kidney

    With a quick wave of the had he hails the barkeep and asks “Don’t suppose you have any Rum, do you?”, before leaning on the bar and getting himself mighty comfy.

    “The UK?” he ponders, scratching at his chin. “Yes I suppose I still hail from there, been traveling for a while round the rest of Europe, but I always come back.”

    Recognizing the raised eyebrow of a slightly bewildered barkeep, he goes on to add “The new call-sign? That’s a story from a long time ago.” His eyes glaze over for just a moment, transported back in memory. “Lets just say you don’t need two to survive out there” he says with a friendly smile in his eye.

    He then takes a good look around the place, “Bit more, how should I put it? Modern… Still, the place looks lovely” he exclaims.

    “Now about that Rum…” he asks with an expectant look in his eyes.



    Tavern Party!!!

    “As for the food and drink”

    “Weekends are always a good time for joy and fun among friends, ee friend D.C.” calls out Lance as he give the Tavern Band the sign to let lose.

    Awhile the crowd gets all wild he passed a cooled stub class containing requested fine rum to the traveling Englishman that goes by his now singular refinement organ name.
    “There you go. Modern look you say… yaa the place needed an expansion in recognition of out more diverse consumers now a day.
    Wait til you see the ones from real far away fly by.”


    Nicholas Andersen

    I´ll see if I can build another one.


    Maharbal Barca

    The pirate groans and stirs, his head on the table with a generous pool of drool at his chin, and his hand still on a bottle of rum. The rising clamor of the tavern party slowly rouse him from his drunk stupor. The sound of laughter and music fill his ears as the smell of brazen pork and freshly baked bread shake him fully awake. He sets his lips to the bottle, it still possessing it’s mystical powers, and takes a sip, the contents still as fresh as if freshly opened.

    I tells ye, the best way to fight a hangover is ta chase back the devil itself with its own fire. Here! I’ll have some o’ that if ye don’t mind…

    As he makes his way to the bar the pirate grabs a generous hunk of ham, sniffs it, and takes a bite. Juice rolls from his lips down his chin as he smacks and chews the tasty morsel. He sits down at one of the stools, blissfully content and satisfied with his current choice of victuals. So content in fact that he does not wait to finish chewing before speaking.

    I tells ye what Lance, *smack smack* this is by far the best side o’ ham ye’ve served in some time, *smack, chomp* what’s the occasion?

    At the same moment, the pirate turns to the figure resting beside him in the neighboring stool. The pirate immediately ceases his chomping and his eyes widen, as if he had seen a ghost (which at this point, after having observed the magical properties of the Bear, would have been less startling.) For moments his mouth stands agape, allowing all present to a more than gratuitous views of well-chewed ham. The pirate stutters and gasps, astonished and searching for words.

    Well blow me down, if’n it ain’t Mo-Tah! Well how are ye, ya sorry excuse fer a lubber!?

    Mo-Tah hardly has a chance to reply, as the pirate goes straight on into a tirade of exclamations and questions for the man. He continues this for some time, easily catching on with the party’s jubilant nature.



    Avail the party reaches it’s peak, Lance pulls out another one of those pamphlet posts and stick it to the news wall.

    Hope you all had a nice weekend.
    I was at a Roman Gladiator matchup with surrounding staged Roman times shops and stuff in a real roman (former) bathing arena. Place is huge.
    The atmosphere alone sent shiver up my spine. Hundreds of people where in traditional clothing staging as people of the time.
    After enjoying a few different original roman Met and wine drinks along with a very satisfying Tarte flambée from a medieval recept I joined the (blood thirsty he he ) crowd to watch the “games”.

    Awesome action since they competed for points in using real metal gear inc weapons.
    Weapons and gear are of course not sharp but the fighters armor protection varied strongly from nothing but a shield and his weapon to Helm + Full arm armor + leg armor+large shield.
    No body armor on anyone.
    Lots of non serious cuts and dents where made.
    Points got scored according to non armored hit places.
    A leg hit was 1 point, arm 2, arm or leg critical hit where the arteries are at scored 3 points.
    Body hits 4 points and sometimes they got a neck hit in that scored 5 points.
    10 points to the win. Then the crowed got to chose between life or death for the beaten Gladiator.
    Later at home I called up a few gladiator games but they where not as good as in my memory.

    • This reply was modified 2 years, 8 months ago by  Lance. Reason: Picture did not display on the front page so I hope that an edit will fix that
    • This reply was modified 2 years, 8 months ago by  Lance. Reason: More editing. :)


    Laughing heartily Mo declares ” I wandered the woods boys! There were a few times I passed the windows in the night, listening to the laughter & the crashing of mugs. Came close to stepping in more than once I did, but often times that what drives us must be answered first, so I continued on into the darkness.
    He pauses a moment and somberly looks down at the mug on the table before him, then reaching out he picks it up, a smile stretching across his face as he does so, and raises it high into the air..,

    To good times and good tunes!” ..and drains the mug.



    Looking around at the eerily silent room, Mo slowly sets his mug back down. “Well damn me laddies, don’t-a everyone speak up at once…

    Standing, he heads to the counter and leans over, pushing his mug under the tap with one hand and opening it with the other, open mouthed, a look of expectation of his face. A rich brown liquid tumbles forth and smoothly begins drenching the inside of his mug and the mouth closes in a smile, the look becomes one of content and he continues… “..kinda like when I was asking for advice on pushing my troops forward or not.

    The liquor rushes to the lip of the mug, pushing a frothy cloud ahead of it threatening to explode out the top and across his outstretched hand, but in one fluid motion he shuts off the tap, pulls his mug clear and catches the foam, that is now rushing to lunge over the edge of his mug & onto his shirt, with a mouth that is both open and ready.
    He takes a big pull as he turns back to his table, then pauses, drains the mug and turns to re-fill it.

    But in the end.. he says as his mug fills “I pulled ’em after the 7th map. Figured I’d start fresh with 3days ahead under my belt, let them boys go home and put their feet up. God knows they deserved it. Let someone not all beat to hell have a go, not worn out and tired, someone fresh and ready.
    Having filled his mug, he walks over to the fire and stares deep into it’s depths as he takes a long drawn breath and continues “Start fresh.., hmmph, yea they were fresh alright. I’d swear half of the 6 were born yesterday and at least one of the other three was still having a serious go at removing his brain-pan from his colon area.., ..and then there was young Mr. Hood.

    The flames lovingly embraced the logs, wrapping them in orange arms of warmth & caressing them, whispering to them of it’s love. And the wood sang back of it’s love in return -popping, crackling and hissing as it was consumed, never knowing the true intent of the fire.
    Mo watched the sensual dance for a moment, wondering if the wood ever realized it’s fate, before continuing “That kid was one of the brightest young men I’ve known. Seemed to know his way around a band-aid, so I made him a Medic. And he did a damn good job of holding it together..,” pausing, he glances down at his feet “..right up till the end.
    Reaching down he picks something off the end of his boot and considers it closely “He had just brought the Rifleman back from near death-{10hp}- and was tending his wounds. It looked real good for a second and I had high hopes.., he frowns and stares blankly at the wall “..then they put a bullet thru the Rifleman’s melon. Poor young Mr. Hood found himself covered in blood and standing in a puddle of piss. Did the only sensible thing at the time I guess, turned and headed for home. And of course in life everything is timing, so this of ALL times is when the Germans started lobbing mortars and Hood was running right into and under them.” he looks back at the object in his fingers “..and I’m thinking this might be what’s left.

    • This reply was modified 2 years, 7 months ago by  Mo-Tah.
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