The Mess Hall

[Erik Mahler]

OOC:
Just a note, no violence in this thread unless approved by me.

IC:
The clamor of metal on metal, the hissing of superheated gasses, the cacophony of voices calling for support and fighting for attention, all of it brought Erik Mahler to a different world. The odor of seared and scorched flesh toasted his nostrils. The heat of open flame baked the flesh of his exposed arms. Sweat beaded under his cap. He licked his lips nervously.

But the moment was lost when someone bumped into him. That someone, a young woman by the name of Maria muttered an apology, but Erik waved her away with a smile. He blinked his eyes and refocused on the now.

Gone was the clamor of metal on metal. Instead it was the scrape of spatula on grill. The hisses of gasses were not the sounds of moisture converting to vapor under the harsh touch of an anti-vehicle laser, but of steam escaping from a pot of boiling pasta. The voices echoing around him changed from beleaguered troops begging for air support to servers and cooks calling out food orders. The woody smell of scorched flesh became that of roasting meat. His warm arms came from the open oven and not the charred hulk of a burning tank.

Erik Mahler blinked again and reinforced his smile. He looked up from the inventory list he was holding in one calloused hand and sighed. Yes, this was peace. This chaos, this mess of shuffling bodies and swirling plates of food, this was home. This was healing.

The grizzled veteran nodded to himself, gave a sous chef an encouraging word and started the routine lunch check of his restaurant’s kitchen.

The Mess Hall was his restaurant. His home. His life now. It was south better than the killing fields.

Erik Mahler nodded with satisfaction as he tested the crispness of a fresh pepper. Yes, so much better.

 

[Erik Mahler]

"No, I understand that," Mahler said as Maria tried to explain the problem. "The guy ordered some ky'theeri steaks and he got fitherton steaks instead. I get it. But why's he so fumed over the salad?"

The young woman shrugged. "I don't know. He said the greens weren't green enough or something. He's an older man, he's probably just grumpy about something."

"Greens aren't green enough? Yeah, okay. Crazy." Mahler shook his head. "I've seen some stupid feth in my time, but this is pretty close to the top."

"I'm sorry," Maria apologized. There was genuine remorse in her voice.

"Don't worry about it. These things happen." Erik glanced again at the screen that displayed the man's original order. "Give the man a refund for his meal and do the whole apology thing. Maybe offer him a dessert. It's not a big deal."

Maria looked relieved. "Thanks, Erik."

He waved her off and took a deep breath, savoring the myriad of smells and aromas in the kitchen. Maria was a nice girl, hardworking and honest, though she was sometimes too hard on herself. She reminded him of himself at her age.

Ah well. One minor problem down and it wasn't even noon yet. But, at least, no one would die or be maimed from this meal mix-up.

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

The door jingles as it opens and a fully armored bipedal figure walks inside. He stops to take in the surroundings as the door slowly swings shut. The figure stands there just long enough to warrant a second glance from nearby restaurant owners. Then, the figure walks over to the far left end of the bar and takes a seat. He leans back in his seat and quietly stares at a spot on the wall, lost in thought.

 

[Erik Mahler]

The door to the restaurant jingled as another patron walked in. Erik glanced that way, not truly interested entered his establishment. It wasn't his role as owner of the place. He had employees who would take the customer's order and make sure he or she was served.

Still, something nagged in the back of his mind, and he watched as Maria approached the armored figure sitting at the bar. His instincts told him the man was not to be trusted, but he wasn't on the battlefield anymore. No one was trying to kill him or his people, and he had served numerous mercenaries and bounty hunters. One more wouldn't make a difference.

Maria Eaglewood, brushing a stray strand of hair behind an ear, stepped up to the man and set a menu in front of him. "Hello sir, can I get you something to drink?"

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

The whispers faded away as her voice entered, "Just like I taught you, Jar---something to drink?". Jarven looked up at the serving woman and realized That's right, dummy. You're in a bar. A small awkward silence followed her question. Then, Jarven answered her speaking slowly and matter-of-factly.
"I fought along side my pack many a time. Our enemies and many who knew of us only saw us for our armored figures. It kept the mystique. It flamed the legend. Now...That time is over. Who is there to keep the secret for?" Upon saying this, he reached behind his head and unlatched his helmet. With a hiss, the helmet came off and settled on the counter top. His face was revealed: Predominantly red hair covered his head, except for his face. His face contained a snarling, yet currently passive, visage, similar to that of a space wolf (OOC: See what I did there?). His eyes were dark and beady.
"Give me something that's strong, but not too strong...Yeah...Oh, umm...please?"

 

[Erik Mahler]

"Sure, definitely," Maria replied, a bit of skepticism in her voice. She jotted down the order in her notepad and returned to the kitchen.

"So what's his story?" Erik asked as Maria stepped through the double doors.

"I don't know, Mr. Mahler." The woman sighed. She punched in an order for a glass of the local wine as she spoke. "He looked completely out of it. When I asked what he wanted to drink, he muttered something about fighting with his pack. It was a little creepy."

Erik nodded as he filled a glass with the dark green alcohol. The wine was made from the sap of a native tree, fermented and aged over the course of several years. It was stronger than most other wines, but had a sweetness to it that balanced out the dryness. "Don't worry about it, Maria. I'll take this to our guest. Why don't you take Table Eight over there? That young couple doesn't look like they'll be much trouble."

"Thanks Mr. Mahler," Maria said gratefully as she headed to the aforementioned table.

Erik corked the wine bottle and placed it on the wine rack, before heading to the stranger's table. Setting the tumbler on a napkin, he gently slid the glass to the armored figure. "This is Thermapolia. It's a wine made from one of the local trees. It's got a small kick to it, but it's not as strong as some of the other liquors out there. Let me know what you think."

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

OOC: I'm new, so I had some research and preference technicalities to work out. He actually has dark brown fur. Carniverous biped is the term used, but since the site's timeline is far in the future from the original Age of Rebellion (Luke, Leia, Han, Darth Vader), there are some personal changes.

Jarven studied the approaching man. The way he carried himself, his physiology, it all suggested of word he once heard What was it, again?...Battleborn. He graciously accepted the drink from him, trusting his settings enough to focus on the drink. Seeing this to be a respectable establishment, he didn't waste time speculating doubt upon the drink. He tilted it down his throat, savoring the flavor. As he lowered the drink and felt it slither down his throat, he commented on the first thing that entered his mind.
"We were on Thyferra...Waiting in orbit until our employer's forces called in the cavalry. On the ground, two companies...It doesn't really mater who... were duking it out using their security forces...using them like pawns on their pristine business chess boards. Our employer was greedy and he payed well enough, but he wasn't a tactician. He merely threw his men at their facility and hoped for victory. It was only a matter of time until we were called in. Then, it was our turn to suffer from his foolishness. Little to no intel coupled with unreliable coordinates turned the battle into a nightmare for both sides. The enemy fell fast enough under our experience, but there wasn't a single Gank who got into that facility. Even then, the owner had left a countdown for his precious information systems. Trying to prevent a total win for our employer, the computer terminals had been over zealously programmed for an electrical surge. It wasn't the fighting that killed 3 of our pack, but the greed of powerful men...."
Jarven fell silent once more, but then he quickly looked up at the bartender. "Sorry" He then downed the rest of the drink. He started to cough to get some of the hasty drink out of his breathing passages.

[member="Erik Mahler"]

 

[Erik Mahler]

OOC:
Not a problem!

IC:

Erik listened as the armored figure repeated a story from his past. He recognized it as the same type of story he might have told others of his former life, a story of woe and despair, a story of a mission gone hideously wrong.

And that’s what this tale was. Erik Mahler didn't know where Thyferra was or what battle this person was describing but it didn't sound good. The person lost most of his squad in the action, it sounded like, and that was never easy on anyone.

Mahler pulled a chair to the table and sat. “No need to apologize. Things like this can be quite traumatizing, and talking about it can help. What's your name, if I may ask?”

[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

OOC:

Mahler pulled a chair to the table and sat.

Umm...I'm sitting at the bar...

The drink had picked Jarven right up. "Jarven. Jarven Zexxel. Forgive my morose attitude. It's not easy, but when you've lived that lifestyle, the pain's in the past where it's been settled. Recent events...have simply opened the stitchery. Thyferra is a jungle planet where most of the bacta in the galaxy comes from. After the takeover, everyone was ill prepared to maintain proper living conditions. We all had to tap into the trees and drink at least once before we got off the planet. Your drink, very good by the way, reminded me."
Jarven looked down and reached for the menu. "Maybe I should actually take a look at this thing. Anyway, you seem like a man with a few stories of "conflict" as well. So, if you don't mind me asking, how did you end up here?"

[member="Erik Mahler"]

 

[Corvetta Salvo]

It had been quite some very long time since Frakkin' Snazzy Salvo had seen a good bar thread. (...And then Corvetta's writer realized that they were playing with another version of Asemir Lor'kora. Corvetta's writer scrambled to get down a post with a rather pink twi'lek subsequently.) Actually, Corvetta had not been in a thread in a while, period. Time to rev this spacer up again!

Meandering into the bar section of the restaurant--as she naturally would on any pause in her smuggling adventures--Corvetta noted some guys who looked like they had seen a war or twenty and decided that was the best place to grab a seat, knowing that there were bound to be some raucous tales to be heard. Pilots kind of have this thing for collecting the most crazy stories and impressing their mates with even crazier tales. Uninvited, she made herself invited in that sort of way that no one but Corvetta knows how to. Grabbing a stool, she scooted it in between the two tough guys and hopped up on it like one would the saddle of a speeder bike, the train of her maroon pilot's coat falling behind her. "Hey there, how's it crankin'?"

She barely allowed any time for reply before nodding to the barkeep. "Drip any of that Mantellian brandy?" Oh, right. Cut down on the spacer-speak. "I'd like to order a Mantellian brandy. If ya got any--ya know?" In most cases, the bottle of her drink of choice would nearly thrown at her subsequently. Corvetta Salvo was good at making friends with just about anyone, but these grumpy bartenders always proved to be the exception to the rule.

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

Jarven's eyes flicked quickly between this newcomer and the bartender, gauging the bartender's reaction to see if he knew her. This kind of disruption was as unsettling as an animal sidling right up to another animal at the watering hole.

Young people these days. You never quite know what to expect from them. Now hold up, dummy. You seem to be just about her age. Well, yes. Granted, we're likely of the same physical age, but I've gone through more than her. How do you know that? I...I, uh...Shut up.

As the young lady pulled up a chair, Jarven instinctively went for his helmet. He ended up only pulling it closer and keeping his hand on it, seeing how the act of putting it on now would be ridiculous in a restaurant. He would have to silently remain uncomfortable for now. Before saying anything, Jarven waited to hear what the bartender had to say.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"] [member="Erik Mahler"]

 

[Erik Mahler]

OOC:
[member="Jarven Zexxel"]

Well, uh, the bar is magical and can change to a table..? That's what happens when I write a post after five weeks of no sleep! Also, for some reason I wasn't aware that your character wasn't human. Oops.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"]

Haha, I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said anything!

IC:
Ah, that's where he had heard of Thyferra! Mahler wasn't some galactic geographer or historian, but he had certainly heard of the planet that produced bacta. It wasn't that he knew much about the planet (or bacta for that matter), but there were always mutterings about what would happen if bacta was cut from the galaxy. As a former soldier, he had a high respect for the magical healing panacea.

“Eh, I've got some stories, sure, but they aren't all that exciting.” It was then that Mahler realized what race the figure was. Gank. He'd never met one in person but their reputation preceded them. They were fierce fighters, ruthless and blood thirsty. To have one in his restaurant, well, this would prove to be an interesting day.

“After mustering out of the service, I decided to settle down here and start up this place. I figured it'd be a nicer change to the killing fields.” He was interrupted from saying much more by a young woman who slid into a seat between them. She ordered a drink something that Erik had to catch twice before understanding.

Erik slid her the snifter of brandy. “Will that be all, miss?” he said with a little bit of irritation in his voice.

 

[Corvetta Salvo]

(Totally forgot that I actually had a PC barkeep to interact with this time... Post edited. :S )

As always, Corvetta was ignorant to the bit of a scene she had caused and the bit of discomfort she had instilled in the men. For someone who traveled the galaxy for a living, she often came across as if she did not get out much. But collecting stories was always a good way to prove otherwise. Clicking her tongue in the affirmative, the lifelong spacer winked at the rather worse-for-wear barkeeper and said, "Frakkin' yeah, that's all. Even Corellian whiskey isn't this snazzy." She was rather sold on this Mantellion stuff after a few years of drinking.

She took a generous swig from the bottle and glanced at the Gank to her other left. He seemed a bit jumpy. Liquor could fix that. "Need any? I promise I don't backwash." The pilot nudged him with her elbow to emphasize her quick propensity for camaraderie.

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

OOC: "Wait a minute! This guy is an alien, not some unshaven man!" Ha ha ha ha!

Jarven became confused by the bartender's suddenly startled reaction towards him. But he knew enough about him that he let that matter lie for now. Now, this woman had jumped in and started trying to be What's that phrase again?...Oh, right. "Buddy, buddy". Jarven was familiar with the behavior of camaraderie, but such an act was usually reserved for friends. He didn't fully know how and how fast humans developed such an attachment, and there wasn't anything threatening about this woman. However, Jarven was stubborn when he wanted to be, so he resigned himself to be a good and cautious sport.

"Umm...No, thank you.", said Jarven. "I'm...uh...being the bartender's drinking mouse pig, if you know what I mean." (OOC: Star Wars guinea pig = mouse pig...Just go with it. ) Turning his head to the bartender, after he came back with her drink, he said, "So, the "service", eh? Were you up close and personal, looking through a scope, or behind a computer?"

 

[Dōkeshi]

A Dark wind whipped past as Kobayashi walked, gracefully and deliberately, into the bar. His clawed left hand was hidden within the folds of the white jacket he wore, and the silver mask was the only spot of color among the entirely white clothes. Sitting down as far from the other patrons as possible, he tapped a clawed left finger against the bar, leaving a small indent there.

[member="Jarven Zexxel"] [member="Corvetta Salvo"] [member="Erik Mahler"]

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

OOC: New Challenger Approaching. BTW, I can't find your bio.

Jarven was preoccupied, so he hardly noticed and didn't care that the door had swung open and shut.

 

[Jarven Zexxel]

Now, something wasn't right. Jarven flipped through his mental notes...and realized that the ambient sound of the customers had died down. Jarven looked around, and realized that a mysterious white figure was now sitting in the corner of the room. He turned back to face his table, playing it cool.
Jarven took out 50 credits and slipped it to the bartender. "Consider this a tab. Another bottle of Mantellian Brandy, if you please. The whole thing." The bartender retrieved the whole bottle and set it in front of Jarven. Jarven picked it up, turned, and extended it out to the woman.
"Betcha' can't chug the whole thing. When you're done, leave the bottle for me."
Curious get-up...What kind of people wear that kind of garb?...eccentric people...rich people...it seems slightly heavy...Light, but protective?...If so, that's usually reserved for melee fighters who value speed...That's funny, he doesn't have the build for melee-based com---...Oh, kark. I hope this is just one big assumption...But it doesn't hurt to be ready.

[member="Corvetta Salvo"]
[member="Dōkeshi"]

 

[Jaster Awaud]

This week.... This week just wasn't Jasters lucky streak. Lugging a heavy crate of valuable that his crew practically cried with to say good-bye he had to sell. Standing on the platform outside the bar he figured what could he possible have to loose... He instantly mocked three times on the wood of the crate. He used his butt plate of his armor to jimmy the door open as he heard the rattle letting the owner and patrons that he was entering the area of gathering.
As he walked up to the bar table he thought to himself 'God I need to get off this planet' as he looked over to the right of him to see a leopard like created talking to another cat like creature, Jaster instantly planned to stop drinking while off ship soo much.
"Barkeep?, or whatever ur called in this establishment, you here?" As he could clearly see that no one was behind the counter nor in the back cooking. 'Best to ask them seem like a snob and yell like a fool' he though.
He sat down on a barstool in patients, fighting his thoughts as he could smell the ale behind the counter.

 

[Erik Mahler]

[member="Corvetta Salvo"]
[member="Jaster of clan Awaud"]
[member="Jarven Zexxel"]
[member=Dōkeshi]

OOC:
Erik is retiring to the back of the restaurant to get some paperwork done. Sven is an NPC bartender, young human male. Feel free to RP him. If things get interesting, Erik will return.

IC:
"Up close and personal," Mahler said. "Armored infantry. You don't get much more personal than that." He reached under the bar and pulled out a bottle of Mantellian brandy. "Here you are. Go easy on it. And, if you two will excuse me," Erik gave the Gank and young woman a polite nod before stepping away from the bar.

"Sven!" he called to his bartender as he pushed through the double doors leading to the back of the restaurant. The clatter of pots and pans and hissing steam greeted him. "You're needed up front. There's a Gank and a woman about to enter a drinking contest. Another big guy just plopped himself at the bar and is calling for you. And there's a man dressed in all white. You've got your work cut out for you."

"You got it boss," Sven said as he grabbed his apron. His eyes shown with the anticipation of earning a sizable amount of tips.

Erik watched the young man go before heading into his office. It was getting busy, but it always got busy at this hour. He wanted to stay and chat with the Gank and the young lady (he didn't catch her name), but there were supply forms to fill out and invoices to complete. It actually wasn't all that different from the service, he mused.

The owner of The Mess Hall smiled and glanced at the monitors displaying the restaurant floor. He watched it from the corner of his eye as he worked, just to make sure that things didn't get too crazy.