Taverns? Old and busted!

Coffee Shops are where it’s at!

Particularly this one, the Progress Ground and Print.

Even if you didn’t see the wooden sign hanging out front you could smell the fresh ground coffee all the way down the block. The creaky wooden floor leads up to the counter where a young man is busy operating the machines under strings of soothingly dim electric lights. There are several round tables and metal folding chairs set up.

They serve a single cup of espresso for 5p up to a large mug of Industrial Strength with Whipped Cream and Spices for a shilling.

They also serve small pastries and biscuits.

There is a bulletin board in the corner.

Intellectuals, teetotalers, artists, and unionists meet and gather here so often that many have their mail directed here. The shop will gladly hold or hand off a package for delivery for a small fee.

There is even one of those new phone booths in the far corner! You can’t expect a private call with all the hubbub but for a shilling you can use the line for sending a telegraph or 5 shillings to connect by voice to somewhere in Bastion if you know the number.

In the locked back room there is a printing press, rented out occasionally. The paper is lower quality than the Printers Guild presses and the print is a distinctive coffee brown, apparently a convenient way to skirt the Guild’s monopoly on printers ink.
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:32, Thu 29 Dec 2022.

It’s opening time at Progress. The door unlatches and swings open. The small crowd huddling in the cold shuffles in quickly.

”Welcome to Progress!”

The young lady with long black hair, almond eyes and a complexion as deep as the beans she grinds works the various machines behind hear. Steam hisses and the room breathes a collective sigh as they smell the beverages brewing.

Haf is stood amongst the crowd of people waiting to enter Progress. He motions to the other patrons to enter before him with a smile. Haf, being slightly taller than most, is indicating that he isn’t much in a rush. Truthfully, he’s hoping to catch the eye of the young woman behind the counter and he’d like for her to see him as courteous and polite. In reality, Haf is a conman, thief, rogue treasure hunter, unscrupulous antique dealer and many other professions deemed unsavoury.

Upon entering Progress, Haf queues patiently and pretends to read the bulletin board. While the lines and squiggles mean relatively little, he can make out the numbers fairly well and he’ll order whichever is second from the cheapest, hoping it’s coffee with chocolate this time.

You peek at the bulletin board and the following snippets catch your  menu items catch your eye:

---

Espresso - 5p
Coffee with 1 refill - 10p
Coffee with chocolate- 10p

---

EXPLORERS WANTED
Spelunking Tools & Free Growler of Coffee Provided
Free Coffee for a Year for each Arcana Recovered

ASK FOR COUGHY BEENZ

---

Sitting near the bulletin board at a cafe table is a haggard and distraught fellow holding his head in his hands. His elbows are propped over a large tome that is currently closed. Resting on his feet is a large dog who seems sad as well.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:01, Sat 31 Dec 2022.

Kostya is one of the patrons that Haf politely motions to enter. Kostya nods his thanks. He tries to smile, too, to appear friendly. He wants to be friendly. On his routinely austere, drawn face, the smile spreads like an involuntary spasm. The corners of his lips twitch. Nothing in his eyes is changed or warmed. It might've seemed more affable if he hadn't tried at all. He settles ahead of Haf in line.

Regulars may recognize him as one of the unionists that routinely haunts the coffee shop. Haunts is the correct word. He haunts. He looms. He's tall and thin. The long ulster coat, with its uniformly black silhouette, makes him look unhealthily pale. Sometimes, he rubs elbows with the artists and other intelligentsia. Kostya typically sits on the edges of their circles. He listens a lot. He says very little. Often he can disappear from their conversations without any notice.

Kostya also eyes the board from his place in line. His gaze moves along the lines of text. Several times, it shifts awkwardly between the board and depressed, slouched over gentleman. It feels awkward to read around someone clearly in the midst of some great personal tragedy. He feels he should do something. He's not sure what.

"He looks like he will weep at any moment," Kostya comments to Haf, sotto voce. He sounds uncomfortable.

Thomas was relatively unremarkable compared to Kostya, being the outwardly everyday sort that could blend into a crowd without much trouble. His only distinguishing feature at present - if it was even considered that - was the newspaper tucked under one arm as he waited patiently in line. A brief look-over the noticeboard and a quick glance at the bedraggled fellow under discussion were the only interruptions to that pose.

Then he pursed his lips and took a slightly longer look at the fellow. The combination of tome, dog, and ramshackle wasn't much of a tonal match to the coffee-for-arcana offer on the noticeboard, but then again... what was?

Kostya's comment caught Haf off guard. Haf had been so engrossed in his own thoughts and musings he hadn't noticed the distraught fellow. He scans the room quickly and spots the man with his dog. Haf's eyes glaze over the man, but rest where the dog is laying.

Haf puts on his concerned face when he returns his look towards the gaunt and unseemly man infront of him. "Poor mutt. Suppose the man's coffee isn't so good, eh?" Haf says, and chuckles to himself. Haf speaks without eye contact, always at an angle facing away from whomever he is conversing with. People tend to read him too well when he engages directly.

Haf looks once more over at the large dog and says to Kostya, "here, hold my space in the queue would you, chum?"

Haf strides over to where the man is sitting and crouches beside the pair. Without looking at the man, Haf extends an open palm towards the dog, inviting it to check his scent. "Beautiful. What's their name?" He says with a smile.

”His name is Joseph. My name is Bernard.”

Says the dog. He sits up then reaches out with his paw to shake your human hand.

”He is upset because our expedition under the cafe’ never returned. And they lost the growler. Not me growling but the container. I don’t drink coffee because I am a dog. But I get the day old biscuits.”
This message was last edited by the player at 18:45, Sat 31 Dec 2022.

Kostya, amused by Haf's quip, laughs. Sort of. It's through closed lips and sounds more like hm-hm than ha-ha.

"Of course," he naturally agrees to hold Haf's place. He's taken the man for some variety of do-gooder. The café philanthropist. Now, as the fellow bustles off to the table, his suspicion is all but confirmed.

Kostya stays put. The look on his face would be more appropriate on a solemn honour guard than someone saving a spot in line. He eavesdrops. Is it still eavesdropping when it lacks all subtlety? He's not all that secretive about where his attention is. The talk of a missing expedition alarms him much more than the dog doing said talking. It's not polite to jump into a conversation from several feet away and yet -

"Excuse me," he calls over, sharply, without thinking. "When were they meant to return?"

”A week ago.”

The haggard man looks up from his book and shuts it.

”I couldn’t go, I had to escort my sister down the isle at her wedding. I asked them to wait for us, but no. They wanted to try their luck after the last expedition failed and cut Bernard and I out of our fair share!”

"Under the cafe, you say?" Haf says, gladly shaking Bernard's paw. Haf's ears perk up a little, like a wolf who has picked up the sound of prey nearby. He turns to Joseph and says, "well... I learned a similar lesson a long time ago. They probably saved you a bit of time, partner. If they were prepared to cut you out before the job, they might've already planned to do so after."

Haf stands up and looks towards the man for the first time. He rests his eye slightly away from Joseph, looking towards the ground, and extends his hand to shake. "Haf," he says. "Haf Bellin. I happen to specialize in such matters of stolen goods and in helping the needy settle their business with former partners. Perhaps my services could be of use to you, my friend?" Haf smiles awkwardly, with a grin that seems used to holding a cigarette and saying pointed words.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:45, Thu 05 Jan 2023.

He had been right: unlikeliness of appearance had no relation to actuality. A failed expedition, a cutting out, a lament for the lost - if seemingly more for the coffee container than for the people who had carried it. There was a story here.

He stepped out of the line - he could get back into it later if need be - and over to the table, keeping a respectful distance so as not to crowd the proceedings. "Pardon the intrusion, but if you don't mind my asking, what caused the previous expedition to fail?"

He wasn't really intruding, considering the distance at which parts of it had already been carried out, but that was no reason to leave out the formalities!

“Mr. Belin. Joseph Templeton. Sole human survivor of the High Tea and High Adventure Society..”

He stands up slowly and shakes Haf’s hand. He turns his head slightly to look at Thomas.

”A friend of yours, Mr. Belin?”

Kostya nods when he hears it's been a week. He frowns sympathetically. It's different from his usual, unsympathetic frown. Other than his initial interjection, he remains quiet and dutifully stays in line.

In the meantime, he glances around the shop. His brow furrows. Once he reaches the front and can speak with the woman behind the counter, he resolves to inquire after Coughy Beenz and the posted bulletin.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:52, Sun 01 Jan 2023.

The barista nods and rings a small bell.
This message was last updated by the player at 16:46, Thu 05 Jan 2023.

Half dressed, half awake, and half paying attention, Gunnar Einarsson stumbles into the café ready to meet the day. The young man stood roughly five feet ten inches and was all of one hundred and forty pounds. Whipcord muscle paired with his tight - maybe even ill fitting - clothes painted him in a unique silohuete.

Sauntering up to the counter he looks knowingly at the lovely woman who's name escapes him at the moment. Sliding 5p across the counter he patiently waits for his usual.

His ears perk up at the mention of the High Tea and High Adventure Society and before his drink is even on the counter he has inserted himself in between all of the men involved in this hushed conversation.

"Apologies for my rudeness, but have you all considered joining a union before heading on an expedition such as one that is clearly dangerous"  A heavy accent of a far off nature lifts up the ends of Gunnar's words as he continues to speak fairly good but not perfect English "Gunnar Einarsson, Union organizer at your service!" holding out a pamphlet that doubles as a business card "Expedition members deserve rights and accommodations for what is most certainly a hazardous job! Mr.... what was it Templeton, are you prepared to pay out any insurance to these fellows families in the event of their untimely demise?"

*ahem*

An eccentricity dressed lady saunters up to the now crowded table and hands Gunnar his mug of coffee. She wears an impressive hat and her fashion seems to be at the midpoint between Progressive Artist and Business Professional.

”One of you wished to speak to me about an expedition? It seems you’ve already formed one, Mr. Templeton. Which is good because as much as I sympathize with you and your four legged friend waiting for your companions to climb back up that rope, one week is all I’m prepared to give you. This is a business, not a charity.”

She coughs into her handkerchief.

”So, Gentlemen…I am Miss Coughy Beenz, proprietress of this establishment.”

"This man?" Haf points towards Thomas, and continues, "ah yes, I've come to know this fellow like a brother! His name is ah.. Tam.. Tim.. er, Thomas I think. Erm, of course we know eachother especially well, you know, being in the local area and such and regularly meeting to drink coffee and talk about sports. Those sorts of things. Come on Thomas, you seem the sort of chap who'd be good in an adventure." Haf gives a kind wry smile and invites Thomas into the conversation with a motion of his arms.

In response to Gunnar, Haf says just loud enough to pierce through the general chatter, "Ah, unions. Well, the more the merrier I say. Keep together and all that, you watch my back, I count the coin, right? Hoorah!"

This message was last edited by the player at 07:54, Mon 02 Jan 2023.

”As long as you don’t try to recruit my workers or collectivize the coffee trade I could care less. I’ll get to the point.”,

She pulls out a cigarette holder and loads it from a silver carrying case. Another patron leaps from the line to light it with his zippo lighter.

”Thank you Steven…”

With a gesture he steps back in line.

”We discovered the brick oven we use for baking and roasting was originally part of a smokestack going far, far down. We removed enough bricks at the base of the oven for a crawl space. There’s some iron rungs for climbing, but we tied 100 feet of rope and secured it at the base of the printing press across the room just to be safe.”

She takes another drag of her cigarette.

”We do the the standard deal. We supply you with lanterns, bedrolls, mapping tools, rations, etcetera. And a jar of coffee. In return you give us the maps and descriptions of everything you find. You can keep any treasure you find, but if you plan to sell it I want first bid. Also…”

She coughs.

”Don’t bring anything up through my floor that could get us killed or shut down. No body bags. No military ordnance. Seditious materials. Man-eating slugs. The usual…”

Thomas frowned a little as he observed, "That can be a very blurry line where arcana is concerned." The frown disappeared just as quickly as it had come. "Ah well. We may not have that sort of luck anyway."

"Am I speaking too soon?" he wondered aloud as he looked over the small gathering that had formed. "I should point out that, if there is something dangerous down below, then we'd best be making rid of it before it has a chance to upend our favorite coffee house."

Kostya forgets the coffee. He follows Ms. Beenz over to the table, slinking behind her as if he was her shadow. His brows are furrowed once again. There's a small divot between them, etched from a lifetime of thoughtful scowls.

He sidles up to Joseph's table and inserts himself into the circle. Mostly, Kostya listens. The quietness isn't from timidity. When the others speak, he looks to them easily. If anything, his attention feels too direct. The gray eyes feel piercing. Analytical.

"Perhaps such a thing would be karmic," Kostya comments forebodingly. "After all, you can only carelessly stuff so much meat into the grinder before it jams up."

He regards Ms. Beenz with a rather icy look, then.

"I asked for you. They did not," he continues, sounding oddly protective as he gestures to the assembled group. "The missing parties troubled me. I would like to go, to see if any living souls can be recovered. Could their rations have lasted through the week, do you think, Ms. Beenz?"

”Joseph and Bernard’s party, maybe? The team before them, probably not.”
This message was last updated by the player at 16:23, Thu 05 Jan 2023.

A short and stocky man in his mid thirties with a short beard shuffles into the coffee shop. Taking stock of the establishment and its current customers, the man makes his way to the gathering group and the finely dressed woman with the cigarette. Once near, the man introduces himself while rubbing his hands together for warmth.

"Hallo. My name is Charlie Cameron. Sorry to intrude, but I heard someone here is looking for others to join an expedition?"

Feeling particularly ignored, but recognizing that he interrupted them, Gunnar stands still and listens to the proposition of Ms. Beenz. He has taken stock of the situation and makes a mental note to look into the working conditions of the baristas...

Thinking intensely he loses track of the conversation a bit before snapping back at the prospect of finding something interesting in the old ruins beneath the establishment.

"Well I'm in... I must keep an eye on these gentleman and remind them that they do not owe their lives to this expedition. Is there any data on the particular threats down there, that way we might be able to improve our chances of survival" His voice was even keeled now as though the mask of bumbling idiot had slipped.

Taking stock of his possessions he is grateful for the supplies Ms. Beenz is providing, and that there will be others to carry the load.

”We don’t know what happened down there. All we know is they never came back up. We first opened the shaft a month ago because we kept hearing a faint ringing sound like a gong or a bell, around 9 o’clock every morning. The first team went down, nothing. Second team went down at 6 in the morning, we heard the bell ring at a quarter after 6. Then we heard gunshots. The ringing didn’t go at 9 that morning, but it went back to the same routine afterwards.”

"Two teams?" Thomas echoed. "Could you tell us anything about that other one? To identify them by, if nothing else." Odds were good that this would be a recovery effort - if even that - rather than a rescue mission, and that would be made much easier if they had some idea of who they'd found.

”Those first blokes? They called themselves…oh what was it? The Subterranean Geographic Society. included a scientist. Dr. Mason, his name was. He had a talking cat and two mechanicals with him.”
This message was last updated by the player at 16:21, Thu 05 Jan 2023.

"Well, third time's the charm, eh?" says Haf. "We go into the hole, give whatever's down there what for, rescue this Mason chap and take the spoils for myself.. erm, ourselves." He shifts awkwardly in possibly the first moment he has been genuinely concerned about anything for a long time, then turns to Joseph and says "you mentioned a reward. How much are we talking here?"

”We run a tight business here. Free coffee for a year if you map it out and make sure nothing down there can some up under our oven.”

She coughs a few more times.

”As for finding the other teams? Like I said, no bodies in the cafe’. When you find another exit…there almost always is…maybe you can get a reward from their families. For the Tea Society folks…as for Dr. Mason…”

She pulls one of the newspapers from the rack. The headline says it all.

MASON LABS OFFERS 100G FOR SAFE RETURN OF EXPEDITION

Beneath the headline is a black-and-white picture of a man in a lab coat with mustache handlebars and goggles. His pose suggests pride and confidence. Flanking him are two humanoid robots. One resembles the construct from the movie Metropolis, dressed like a proper Victorian lady. The other appears to be of the same construction but male, a hulking figure in military uniform. On the scientist’s shoulder is a black cat with less-dark tips on its ears, paws, and tail.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:23, Thu 05 Jan 2023.

Charlie's eyes light up at the mention of the reward. That's all the motivation he needs to risk his neck.

"Well, I don't know about the rest of this lot, but I'm up for finding the missing bloke."

Late, as per the norm, came Marion. Opening the door softly and slipping into line, the well-dressed, not-so-stellarly built, middle-aged man with a questionable lease on reality glanced over as the ragtag group of Ms. Beanz and assorted men of varying degrees of suspicion.

However, such a poster, with such a reward, made the risk of dying worth his while. What's life without almost dying, right?
Slipping on a coy smirk and out of line, he worked his way to intrude on the conversation... and the reward.

"Excuse the pardon..." Marion began before clearing his throat to start again, catching his mistake. "Pardon my excuse..." Ah yes, much better. "I see an expedition on the horizon, and I must admit you've piqued my pocketbook!" He interjected with a slightly off- but genuine- smile, arms lazily crossed. "Where are we going, what are we getting, and when do we leave?"
This message was last edited by the player at 03:42, Fri 06 Jan 2023.

Litton had not ever stopped for coffee, and he hadn't planned to begin at any point, but the overwhelming aroma coming from the Progress Ground & Print (and the prospect of speaking to a talking dog for the first time) led him through the door. With a quiet shuffle, he stands behind the table where the expedition is being discussed. He waits for Marion to finish his entertaining introduction, and then, fixing his hair in order to make the best possible presentation, says:

"Yes, ah, I'd be happy to join. I've a desire for danger and adventure if it means a reward. Trained with a sword, carry a dagger, too... I should be of good use."

"Amazing...all you have to do is say expedition and would-be adventurers come out of the woodwork. Times must be hard indeed!"

Litton turns his pockets inside-out and wiggles them.

"Yes."

As more would-be expeditioners join the party, Haf finally approaches the bar and orders the second-cheapest item. Successfully, he is provided with a coffee with chocolate. He takes a seat, Gently sips the coffee and relaxes in a nearby chair. "What fun," says Haf, "I wonder what we will find down there."

"Hard, or just dull," Thomas smiled. "That, and people can be very protective of their favorite establishments."