The C16 Tavern

Use // for OOC.

 

"Sir, that isn't your drink. That was for Soviet." The bartender pours a shot of vodka for Halo, who is officially the local drunk.

(Or use parenthases or spoiler tags)

 

The burly african removes his arms from the counter, standing straight. He looks at the scrawny men near him, letting out a deep chuckle.

"Alright. What's my job?"

 

>>Upon the lack of response from JonneBravo, the odd figure walks over to the burly African at the counter. It doesn't seem to look either way, but simply mutters,

"Brushie. Brushie. Brushie."

 

The burly african looks to the man speaking to him, allowing a smirk to appear upon his face.

"Snakey snakey snakey."

 

"Alright. Burly guy, you're now bouncer for now. Please get this guy out from behind my counter."

 

// You did that in Skype like every other time I was in a call. Or tinychat or whatever. lol'd harder than I should've.

fucking true definition of spider-man

 

The burly african nods, looking to the man behind the counter. Smirking, he slides his right sleeve upward, allowing his OG darkskin self to show. Flexing his bicep, he looks to the pale man.

"You see this bicep? I'm an OG. Come out from behind the counter."

 

*Stumbles through the front doors."
Who wan- *Hic* 'ts to play some Counter StrHICe?

 

I'll be the singer/entertainer. I can do the best imitation of Miriam Margolyes.

 

*Nano would walk into the Tavern, looking around before slowly slouching in like fat-bum.*

"I can already taste the 'casual' insults from here."

 

*Awkward Walter walks in, and immediately begins sneezing on everyone, spreading the plague*
"die pigeons shoo shoo"

 

The OG brings his hands forward to the ghostly figure, gripping him around the neck with his thick, strong hands.

//The OG is OP #getpowergamed

The african squeezes his neck tightly, cutting off his breathing.

"Your move, faggot."

 

*Slashraider would walk down the street from his home around 5pm. He would casually look for job offerings in papers and in stores. While walking, Slashraider notices a "hiring" sign at his favorite Tavern. Slashraider visits the tavern often but doesn't say much, he only speaks when he needs help or if he feels he needs to speak. Slashraider hopes to get the job of the Electrician to he can contribute to the tavern and eventually be apart of it's community. Slashraider walks into the Tavern and asks if he can apply for the Electrician job. He says, "I have studied Electrical Engineering and I have worked in small Electrician jobs before and I would like to be apart of this community."*

 

The bartender looks up from wiping down the counter again, this time at a different spot, and nods to the man. "If you can fix the lights in the bathrooms, that would be great. And be careful. I heard there's a mad rapist hiding out in there now. Keeps whispering 'Dub is great.'"

 

Duck approaches the area karaoke with his newly acquired mop and mops the vomit off the floor, dipping his mop into that yellow water container thingy after every few strokes.

 

(Boot of beer. Das Boot. From the movie Oktoberfest. The actual glass boot filled with beer.)

The bartender looks over. "Doing good there. Almost looks like you played that Viscera Cleanup Detail game."

 

*continues to profusely sneeze on everyone, effectively spreading the plague known as "Rectal Burn Syndrome" which would simulate the experience of getting butt-fucked by several Ron Jeremys, while he chants a wicked chant about shooing away pigeons. He sneezes on the counter of the bar before screaming a phrase in Al Qaeda language, and effectively sneezing again, right onto every bottle behind the counter, every bottle disolves on impact of Walter's mucus. He then asks for a shot of vodka, and a job as a decorator hint hint i will suck dicks irl 2 get job bby*

 

// I'm just going to stay away from this thread.

 

(I'm cautious whether or not to post this, but here goes)
In a flash, a man bounds in to the tavern, wearing a red cape, some red shorts over the top of his casual clothes, and a grimy red strip of cloth with two holes for eyes cut in it. He leans over, catching his breath, wheezing and panting, before finally gaining his composure. After another while of breathing and staring into space, he bellows righteously:
"Stop right there, evil-doers! I am seizure man! And I shall defeat you!"
He points and stares angrily at the men in the tavern, and then drops to the floor from the sudden loss of muscle control. Arms twitching, legs flailing uselessly, and the frequent weak hampered groan from the deep recesses of his thyroid would escape him.