You're barely in and a handful of cut-throats measure your size. Not fond of cops in these parts. You climb down the stairs, testing your luck at every step. Dizzy plays the trombone in the back, broken by Mack's percussion. The mahogany counter has seen better days... You add your own round spot, whisky on the rocks. Kat, the australian bartender, winks at you and hides her accent - tough days for a foreigner, even for one as connected as her.

You glance around to see Tommy the Head spitting hate against the Weeper, his gorilla accountant. Neanderthal Mobs do it for the blood, they say. You don't wanna find out...

Sandra comes around and asks if you wanna see what she's got. Most people won't keep up. You, on the other hand, know what she means: the mind reader has a secret to sell. The price's the problem - she only takes favors...

[Welcome to Club Harvest, the lounge area for characters being built. Talk to the NPCs, talk to each other, ask a few questions, answer some more... Who knows, you mind even find out who you are...]
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:04, Fri 20 Sept 2019.

It was just AHAB's nature that, when she arrived in a new place, the first thing she wanted to check out was the local food. However, she was too small to carry more than an emergency supply of money, and so her options in a new place tended to be limited by her and her family's efforts to establish lines of credit on her behalf. Since that request came with a condition of "expect a six-inch-tall doll to come sample your merchandise without actually eating any," she tended to have a pretty random mix of experiences. Like now, for example, winding up not in a restaurant at all, but a bar.

Still, AHAB was looking on the bright side, as she usually did. The clientele and atmosphere here were certainly interesting, and the staff seemed friendly. She was standing on the bar directly when Kat brought her drink, since she'd never be able to reach it from a stool. "Thank you," she said with an almost invisible smile when Kat brought her drink. Her lips didn't move to form the words. "Can I have an empty glass as well, please?" She waited to sample her whisky until she had it, though she did lean over the glass to take a curious smell of it.

She was mildly surprised when Sandra came over to talk to her, since people often didn't unless it was to view her as a curio. In a way she appreciated being treated as a customer, even if she wasn't buying. She was new to the city, pretty much acting as a tourist, and didn't care to immediately land in an unknown debt. "Thank you, but not right now," she said to the mindreader, still smiling in her hard-to-see way. After that, she just went back to looking around the bar curiously while she waited for her extra glass.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:04, Sat 21 Sept 2019.

F. Lee Montgomery strode into the club as if he owned it, not that he would ever invest in such a low brow establishment. He held his head high (well, six inches high, at least), his walking stick tapping the floor as he walked passed an array of filthy boots, which he feigned not to notice.

He leaped lightly up onto the bar, although the wood creaked under his weight, walking directly towards Sandra. He knew Dr. Lemuria was up to something, and this was his best bet of finding out what. He nearly lost his carefully maintained composure as he spotted the mechanical woman who shared the top of the bar with him.

"Madam!" he exclaimed, looking AHAB up and down as he approached, "Such workmanship! It's exquisite! Positively divine!" He catches himself, looking for a moment aghast at his behavior.

"My apologies!" he exclaims, sweeping his top hat from his head in a bow, "How rude of me. Fitzgerald Lee Montgomery, at your service!"

Normally AHAB would have smelled a new arrival before she saw him, but with her head perched over what was, from her perspective, pretty much a barrelful of whiskey, she was rather distracted. "Hm?" she said curiously as she turned around when she realized someone was talking to her. It turned out to be someone about the same height as her, which was quite a surprise - especially since she couldn't smell anything to suggest he wasn't a regular person, just small.

"Well, thank you!" she said with a pleasant, if still naturally thin, smile. She was happy to take compliments at face value. "No apologies necessary, Mr. Montgomery. Pleased to meet you, I'm AHAB Fowler. If you don't mind my saying so, it's rare that I can make the acquaintance of people my own size."

(OOC: Come to think of it, since Fitzgerald is a professor he might recognize that while Fowler is a fairly common name, it could connect to the eccentric inventor Iona Fowler and/or her family's corporation, the Fowler Engineering Company.)
This message was last edited by the player at 05:17, Sat 21 Sept 2019.

"Please, Miss Fowler," Montgomery said, holding up a hand, "My servants call me Mr. Montgomery. Those whom I call friends, which I hope I can count you amongst, know me as F. Lee."

He appeared in thought for a moment, before raising an eyebrow. "Fowler? Well, please convey my compliments to Miss Iona. Your cognitator is clearly of surpassing complexity." He waved a hand absently at the room around them, "Were we in a more respectable establishment, I am certain our dinner conversation would prove most enlightening."


OOC: 09:30, Today: Professor Flea rolled 24 using 1d20+10 with rolls of 14.  Investigation (well informed).

Walker shifted uncomfortably on his stool and grimaced.  So many people were staring at him.  He slouched under the weight of eyes, but if anything more and more of them weighed him down.  To say nothing of the whispers.  "Please; whiskey neat."  Walker muttered to Kat, keeping his voice low and his eyes lower.  His first time to a bar like this, though he still wasn't entirely sure what sort 'this' was.  He sure didn't feel like he was fitting in....  Can't even fit in in a bar of 'people like me.'  he thought to himself dejectedly, muttering out seemingly unintelligible syllables under his breath.

When the tumbler arrived, he held it how Mr. Germane had practiced with him.  Like the glass was an extension of his hand, that need not fear it falling to the ground even without extra help.  Walker was also not to drain the glass like a mouthful of water either, even if it had the same effect on him.  No; that burning texture, and the hundreds of delicate tastes were to be slowly savored.  And yet, still not fitting in....

Dor'aan walked in to the club, standing out significantly. Clearly an Atlanean noble of some kind, wearing the cleanest of suits and some sort of Argent technology wrist brace. He sniffed the air as he walked in, observing the room he approved of the music in the background.

As he stretched his long neck, he moved over to the bar. "Whiskey, on the rocks. Thank you, ma'am" Dor'aan gave Kat a smile and a tip for her troubles.

He eyed the diminutive attendees, thinking he recognized one. She looks to belong to the Fowler Company, he thought. "I hate to interfere, but you look terribly familiar. Aren't you one of the Fowlers of Fowler Engineering? I'm a big fan of their particular line of products. I'm Dor'aan... Dor'aan Millou. You might have heard of me."

Sandra, the mind reader, that's why he was here. As a mind reader himself, he knew what secrets sold for. He telepathically spoke to her, "I would like to see your wares, doll."

21:36, Today: Dor'aan Miilou rolled 13 using 1d20+8.  Investigation (Well Informed).

"Certainly, F. Lee. Then please call me AHAB." F. Lee seemed like an unusual designation compared to going by Fitzgerald or Lee, but then AHAB was hardly in a position to talk. "I'll do that, my mother always enjoys compliments. Though I'm afraid our interesting dinner conversation would have to be about other topics, as I wouldn't want to reveal any family trade secrets." Her tone was still friendly as she politely deflected. "Are you an engineer yourself, perhaps?"

With people coming and going from the bar, AHAB didn't particularly pay attention to Walker or Dor'aan's arrivals. She did notice when Dor'aan spoke to her directly, of course, and she turned to face him. "Oh, hello Mr. Millou. Have we met before? I'm sure you wouldn't know me by family resemblance," she said with friendly amusement. The other Fowlers were, after all, human. She gave him a considering look after that, trying to place if she had in fact heard of him before.

22:29, Today: Nameless One rolled 12 using 1d20+2.  Expertise, hearing of Dor'aan.

As N4t3 entered the club he walked up to the barkeeper and said "One iced tea unsweetened please"

Dor'aan smiled politely, a minor Atlantean noble always remembered his manners. "Doubtful, young lady, I'm certain that I'd have remembered meeting. Word simply gets out. People of your..." He trailed off for a moment as though in thought, then looked to Professor Flea. "Stature are usually in short supply. No pun intended. By all means, please call me Dor'aan." He nodded to Professor Flea, "And F. Lee was it? A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

"An engineer? Oh, no, my dear." Montgomery replied, looking almost offended at the suggestion. "The Montgomerys do not pursue mercantile interests. I am simply a gentleman scholar, if you will. Knowledge for its own sake is all the profit I desire."

"Mr. Miilou." He bowed his head slightly as he tipped his hat at Dor'aan.  "What brings an Atlantean prominence as yourself to such a humble establishment?"




OOC: 14:50, Today: Professor Flea rolled 14 using 1d20+10 with rolls of 4.  Investigation (Well Informed) on Dor'aan
This message was last edited by the player at 00:50, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

REALIZING the distinctive nature of her guests, Kat makes sure everyone's supplied. With quick, nimble gestures, she arranges glasses according to sizes, concoctions according to tastes.

She seems to take a liking to N4t3. Perhaps it's something about his choice of beverage, but she's extra generous with the portion and makes sure he's comfortable to boot.

As for the trio at the balcony, Sarah's staring at them, laughing and making notes on a small pad. The woman has a certain dame-journalist air about her - sly smile, a large, tipped hat, brown, battered jacket, matching the well-tended skirt, solid black shoes. The green eyes dart around the room as she considers the consequences of everyone's presence in this place.

She gets up, walks towards the group, smiles and, measuring each of the three - AHAB, F. Lee and Dor'haan, nods her head: "Go figure... But it fits!" - she looks over her shoulder, aknowledging N4t3, turns around, and leaves the club.

Club Harvest's a strange place these days. they made themselves out to be a nice joint for metas. No one else in town would like the title - attracts bad attention and needs one damn good insurance policy. One fight breaks in here and the place's gone. Still, bands are good, gim's great and the company... Well, that's another chapter entirely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:45, Sun 22 Sept 2019.

"I see," Ahab said to Dor'aan, though she still sounded faintly puzzled. She hadn't led much of a public life up to now, but then she supposed that if someone was going to know about her one major accomplishment thus far, it would be an Atlantean. She hadn't actually spoken to any since taking down that sea monster, and she wondered what they thought of that. "Then, call me AHAB, Dor'aan." She would have asked what brought him to City Nouveau, but F. Lee beat her to it. So instead, she smiled at him and said "Ah, is that so. A worthy endeavor."

She gave Sarah a curious look when she came over and seemed to take their measure, but didn't comment until the woman had left. "What was that about, do you suppose?" Now that she was in the middle of a conversation, she just nodded her thanks to Kat for the empty glass, but didn't put it to use yet.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:35, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

It seemed that the woman sitting at the bar had been there for some time. It also seemed that she had just arrived even though she was taking the last sip from her martini. With a gesture she asked for another before glancing around. This was the right one...she hoped.

Isadora was wearing a fine will dress in black with some intricate work. A small gem sat on her head, currently it seemed to be cut in a princess cut and was blood red. Isadora herself was a beautiful woman. Full lips stained the same red as her gem. She needed to get her bearings, see what was different. Her last job had taken her to the past and she hoped nothing had been disrupted.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 16:30, Mon 23 Sept 2019.

Normally, in situations - well, any situation, really - Walker would either be able to orbit someone he knew.  Instead, he was surrounded by strangers.  So many strangers.  And not one familiar face.  He paused, waiting for a possible voice to give him some sort of direction.  Nothing.  Well, nothing but memories at any rate.  Instead, he recalled a robot voice, and its instructions for objective observation.  Step one: what is actually there?

That was the easy part.  Walker didn't even have to raise his head to observe the room - even without looking, he pinpointed the individual smells and sounds accurately enough to know who was drinking what, who favored which cologne, and what a given patron's most recent meal was.  The sounds were much more enlightening, though.  Like the names, spoken casually on the other side of the room.  Ahab.  Dor'aan.  F.Lee.  Walker couldn't have overheard more if he was sitting in proximity to them.  And similar details from the table in the opposite direction.

Not that he was yet sure what his goal was here, but eavesdropping didn't seem like it was going to make it any easier.  Despite his previous hesitation, Walker drained the rest of the tumbler in one go.  'Liquid courage.'  My foot.  Walker had never really understood that concept - whatever it was, it sure didn't work for him now any more than the last time he tried it.  Maybe he was doing it wrong?  "May I have another, please?"  He asked meekly, setting the glass on the bar and raising his eyes for a brief second.  Asking for drinks didn't really count.  That wasn't going to get him anything except an empty pocket.

With a bracing sigh, Walker raised his head and did a full visual sweep of the establishment.  A very obvious, awkward, 'I'm-here-alone-and-don't-know-what-to-do-with-myself-so-I'll-badly-pretend-I'm-looking-for-my-friends,' visual sweep.  His cheeks were flushed red by the end of it, but he tacked a lot of faces on to the names he collected earlier.  And species, for all that that mattered....  His eyes found the woman drinking...gin and vermouth from that corner, on their way back down to his whiskey.  The gem looked like it should symbolize something......

OOC: 01:05, Today: S.On.N.Y. rolled 23 using 1d20+9.  Expertise - Eidetic Memory (Culture?). On Isadora's jewel.  Maybe it symbolizes status?

The gem could possibly be an extravagant version of a bindi, but she certainly didn't look Indian. The shape was just a perfectly cut gemstone. The fact that it was in a setting that seemed to be embedded in her skin, if one took a closer look, suggested it was something more. Although, taking a deeper look would require getting much, much closer.

She did notice being looked at, though. She also noticed his nerves, or something not quite right. "First time here?" She seemed at ease. Then again, she did take a moment to take an assessment of the man.

Walker gave Isadora a shy half-smile that could have launched a thousand ships.  His eyes flicked up to the gem for a brief moment.  That didn't look comfortable at all.   Unless it was somehow natural to her?  "I-yeah.  Yes.  F-first time."  He shuddered back, cheeks reddening.  He ducked behind his whiskey for a brief sip, even if the 'potion' wasn't quite doing the job, then nervously extended his hand.  Or was that rude and presumptuous?  "I'm Walker."

"Isadora," she said as she took his hand. She seemed quite comfortable and oozed a self confidence born from too many decades on this...well an Earth. This one was honey, though, and she wanted to stop it from destroying itself. If such a thing were possible. "and you could just ask if you're curious." she was referring to his looking at her gem.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:00, Tue 24 Sept 2019.

The large silver stretch limo pulled up outside Club Harvest and the back door, obviously modified to be larger than normal opened and Silverback climbed out slowly. It wasn't easy being 10 feet tall, but he had grown into it as two large hands grabbed the side of the limo and heaved his massive frame out into the street. Large furred knuckles rested on the ground as his other two arms reached behind him and closed the door.

A small shimmering sphere hovered over his shoulder, vanishing from view after a few seconds, the large four armed gorilla straightened his suit and very carefully started forward and into the club. If he stood upright he was the full 10 feet tall but if he stooped and walked on his knuckles like most natural Gorilla's did he could fit into most places...sort of.

Leaning in Silverback squeezed through the door to the club and knuckled carefully through the crowd, towards the bar, he was well known for his music in the band Platinum Catalyst and the Club he and Amy owned, Silver and Steel, but sometimes he came out to spend some time amongst people who wouldn't break if he touched them.

At the counter he gestured to the bar tender,"Large whiskey please...no ice...." He didn't bother sitting, he'd simply break the seat if he did.

Silverback was so large he blocked the view of his partner, Amy M, exiting the other side of the silver limo. She was stunningly beautiful, dressed in a blazing red cocktail dress that hung off her shoulders and hugged her curves. Her gleaming chrome left arm only seemed to accent her beauty, giving her an air of exoticness.

Amy reached the bar about a minute after Silverback, having taken the time to drop off her hat and fur wrap at the coat check. She nodded to Kat, who brought over a glass of champagne with Silverback's whisky. Amy pouted at the large gorilla and slapped his shoulder playfully as she took the seat next to him. "Where's your manners, big boy." she teases him.

The large primate man twitched when the little hand slapped against his fancy silver suit and he turned his head slowly to look at her, barring his teeth in what humans assumed was a smile but was almost a challenge amongst the Gorillamen themselves,"Really? You know when I'm thinking I forget you even exist...you lucky I have Ohm to remind me of my sets I need to play...I just got to figure out how to balance the gigojulemeter in the teleporter at the temple to make sure we don't get any feedback through the shafts themselves...."

He paused, realizing he was babbling and his face softened,"Sorry...I'm just distracted." They had been giving the mob a hard time and now there was all the problems with the teleporter and he was, as always, distracted by his thoughts,"I ignored you the whole way here didn't I?"

Walker's smile grew a little less shy.  At Isadora's invitation to look, he glanced up at the gem before shifting into 'scientist mode.'  "Hematite.  Trigonal alignment of aluminum oxide.  Solid, stable structure; high hardness.  Corundum.  Saturation of chromium creates red refraction of visible light... 'ruby.'  No 'silk' marks or imperfections, artificial?  Subtle changes in structure further consistent with intense heat or pressure, or electrical-."  Walker's analysis came through like he was cataloging a specimen in a neutral tone, up until he suddenly stopped and looked away, ears red.  "Please accept my most sincere apologies, ma'am.  I didn't mean to stare.  So, um, what brought you here?"

"Artificial, yes. Ruby, only here and now. Later, before and elsewhere is it something entirely different but still the same piece." She had long gotten over any concerns about propriety, having passed the old lady stage several lifetimes ago.

"I am here because this is when I was supposed to be here. Sometimes things need to happen in a certain order, you know. If they don't things can go poorly." She knew he would be someone she would be working with in the future but she didn't know who was going to resist what ultimately had to happen for the betterment of the world, no, to literally save it.

Amy smiles back at Silverback and takes a sip of her drink. "You did, but I'm also just teasing. Remember, no business tonight." She looks around taking in the cast gathered around them. "I think I'll go introduce myself to that cyborg over there. Seems like we might have something in common."

She saunters over to the seat next to N4t3. "Hey there, mind if I sit?" Her voice is bright and with just a little bit of rasp. Despite asking, she doesn't wait for permission to sit. Once perched on her seat, she turns to N4t3 and flashes him an inviting smile. "I'm Amy. I'm a singer. Tell me about yourself." She takes a sip of her drink to give N4t3 a natural break to respond.


I'm going to switch to green for my text color so I don't overlap with Isadora

And just like that he was big and alone with his drink, smirking at the smaller woman walking off to go chat to the cyborg he sighed, like calling to like, that was thing. Everyone was drawn to those who were like them, who was like him?

Looking into his whiskey he took a sip and frowned, yes there were others of his kind but, even though they were larger than humans, they were still a several feet shorter and had nowhere near his mass....not to mention four arms. It was the one thing his calculations hadn't worked through as he had made himself stronger, faster, tougher....but more alone.

Another night of contemplation it seemed, he smiled softly and turned his attention to the stage and the music playing there. No matter how busy his brain music was his passion and it would distract him, almost as much as the science.

Walker's brow furrowed, then one eyebrow slid up slowly as he tried to figure out what Isadora was telling him.  'Here and now?'  'Elsewhere?'  'Certain order?'  "So, this might be a forward question then, but by the way you're talking it almost sounds like you have a fifth dimensional perspective on time and space.  But then it would be particularly difficult for any interaction...."  S.On.N.Y. mused aloud, trailing off to give a coy blush.  Either he could blush on command, or he was excruciatingly nervous - but used to it.

"No, not fifth. I mean, there are the usual three plus time but there are many points of time and, perhaps, may different universes like this one. Infinite moments, infinite earths. But, me, I live in midtown and rather like this place." She didn't really know how to explain it. And, she figured most people would ignore her so it was fun playing with the all too embarrassed man. Plus, he was cute so why not.