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ryukan Member
The Sandwich of Heaven
- Last Seen: 8 mos ago
- Joined: 11 yrs ago
- Posts: 38 (0.01 / day)
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- ryukan 11 yrs ago
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Morgan Rouge - Beacon Academy Ballroom - Monday night
@Rex @Bigg Slamm @jman221
“Sure thing Razor.”
Morgan poured the last of bottle into the remaining cups offered by his new companions, tossing aside the empty vessel where it sailed over the heads of the revelers and landed squarely into a waste bin across the ballroom. He then uncorked the final bottle of rum with his teeth and happily plied himself with another measure, which he promptly downed, and then refilled again.
“And I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about Benji,” he belched. “I’ve still got it, five shots in or no, and now I’m going on six.”
Experienced or not the world was getting a mite hazy even for Morgan, but he’d been worse.
To Morgan’s credit, several of the students who had joined Morgan’s festivities early in the evening were already swaying noticeably on their feet or sprawled upon the floor as the strong liquor began to overpower their senses. Morgan listened nudged one particular student who’d tried early on to go shot for shot with him on their side so they’d be in mildly better condition in the morning. He then turned back and listened arched his eyebrow and whistled as Benji (Or was it Renji?) explained the lengthy process behind his intricate collection of body ink.
“Sounds like you don’t need hair on your head if you’ve already got that much off of your chest.”
Plopping down atop his cot next to the chest, Morgan gestured towards his three new drinking buddies to join him, pouring fresh shots out whenever the other cups made their rounds.
“As for you fox,” he said. “That reminds me of this big tribe of jackal faunus’ my father told me about once, but instead of getting them inked their hunters would get ‘war paint’ of the first grimm they took down, and then the last one if they managed to retire.”
All around Morgan other students were stumbling about and laughing along. He was pleased to find that it looked like he’d done his job admirably in getting the party started and the rest could sort itself out by the morning.
@Rex @Bigg Slamm @jman221
“Sure thing Razor.”
Morgan poured the last of bottle into the remaining cups offered by his new companions, tossing aside the empty vessel where it sailed over the heads of the revelers and landed squarely into a waste bin across the ballroom. He then uncorked the final bottle of rum with his teeth and happily plied himself with another measure, which he promptly downed, and then refilled again.
“And I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about Benji,” he belched. “I’ve still got it, five shots in or no, and now I’m going on six.”
Experienced or not the world was getting a mite hazy even for Morgan, but he’d been worse.
To Morgan’s credit, several of the students who had joined Morgan’s festivities early in the evening were already swaying noticeably on their feet or sprawled upon the floor as the strong liquor began to overpower their senses. Morgan listened nudged one particular student who’d tried early on to go shot for shot with him on their side so they’d be in mildly better condition in the morning. He then turned back and listened arched his eyebrow and whistled as Benji (Or was it Renji?) explained the lengthy process behind his intricate collection of body ink.
“Sounds like you don’t need hair on your head if you’ve already got that much off of your chest.”
Plopping down atop his cot next to the chest, Morgan gestured towards his three new drinking buddies to join him, pouring fresh shots out whenever the other cups made their rounds.
“As for you fox,” he said. “That reminds me of this big tribe of jackal faunus’ my father told me about once, but instead of getting them inked their hunters would get ‘war paint’ of the first grimm they took down, and then the last one if they managed to retire.”
All around Morgan other students were stumbling about and laughing along. He was pleased to find that it looked like he’d done his job admirably in getting the party started and the rest could sort itself out by the morning.
Morgan Rouge - Beacon Academy Ballroom - Monday Evening
@Akayaofthemoon @Bigg Slamm @Rex @jman221
Morgan’s newly filled shots didn’t need to wait long before new challengers were swiping them off the top of his metal chest turned table, and these students seemed like a far hardier lot than the other comers. A dark haired owl faunus downed a shot whole with a barely perceptible winch before pointedly handing the glass back for a second round and delivering a cocky smirk.
‘Another round friend?’ The faunus asked.
Morgan’s face split into a grin and he began to pour another measure into the shot glass, but as he moved to pour, a second shot was swiped from the table as a raven haired girl swept gracefully onto the scene and downed the measure in a single gulp. She playfully chided Morgan and the rest of the reveling students before thanking Morgan, putting her glass down, and sweeping away from the group as fast as she had come.
Morgan whistled in appreciation of her feat as she departed before he turned back to owl faunus.
“Finally,” he said. “People who can handle their liquor.”
He poured another shot into the faunus’ glass, handing the glass back before he downed his own shot of rum as smoothly as the last four. Morgan swallowed the burning liquor appreciably, feeling the warm glow of inebriation suffuse his body, but his family had been feeding him alcohol aboard the Fluffy Cloud since they’d first unlocked his aura, and he knew damn well how to handle a buzz.
“I’m five shots in,” Morgan said, returning his own cocky grin. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do friend.”
A sudden exclamation of appreciation from Morgan’s back drew his attention to a fox eared faunus just joining Morgan’s little party.
“That’s called Mistral Coast Black Kraken Rum,” he bellowed in reply. “Sailors favorite all along the shores of Mistral and beyond. It’s sure to put some hair on your chest.”
Morgan winked and began refilling now emptied shot glasses with the dwindling bottle of rum just in time for a bald and heavily tattooed young man in a simple robe to grasp a newly filled glass and join the festivities with a toast. He beckoned for more students to come and test their livers against the might of Mistral Coast Black Kraken Rum before turning back to the newest comer.
“Where are my manners,” Morgan responded merrily. “I’m Morgan Rouge, more from the sea than Mistral, but I always welcome good company.” He raised his own glass and urged the others to do the same before downing yet another shot.
“Now what’s your names and where’d you fellows get your slashes?” Morgan gestured toward his own tattooed arm and the black silhouette of an anchor inked into his skin. He’d noticed that his new companions all shared their own inked etchings and he was interested in their history.
“Mine was an old artist off the coast, bit of a family emblem.”
@Akayaofthemoon @Bigg Slamm @Rex @jman221
Morgan’s newly filled shots didn’t need to wait long before new challengers were swiping them off the top of his metal chest turned table, and these students seemed like a far hardier lot than the other comers. A dark haired owl faunus downed a shot whole with a barely perceptible winch before pointedly handing the glass back for a second round and delivering a cocky smirk.
‘Another round friend?’ The faunus asked.
Morgan’s face split into a grin and he began to pour another measure into the shot glass, but as he moved to pour, a second shot was swiped from the table as a raven haired girl swept gracefully onto the scene and downed the measure in a single gulp. She playfully chided Morgan and the rest of the reveling students before thanking Morgan, putting her glass down, and sweeping away from the group as fast as she had come.
Morgan whistled in appreciation of her feat as she departed before he turned back to owl faunus.
“Finally,” he said. “People who can handle their liquor.”
He poured another shot into the faunus’ glass, handing the glass back before he downed his own shot of rum as smoothly as the last four. Morgan swallowed the burning liquor appreciably, feeling the warm glow of inebriation suffuse his body, but his family had been feeding him alcohol aboard the Fluffy Cloud since they’d first unlocked his aura, and he knew damn well how to handle a buzz.
“I’m five shots in,” Morgan said, returning his own cocky grin. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do friend.”
A sudden exclamation of appreciation from Morgan’s back drew his attention to a fox eared faunus just joining Morgan’s little party.
“That’s called Mistral Coast Black Kraken Rum,” he bellowed in reply. “Sailors favorite all along the shores of Mistral and beyond. It’s sure to put some hair on your chest.”
Morgan winked and began refilling now emptied shot glasses with the dwindling bottle of rum just in time for a bald and heavily tattooed young man in a simple robe to grasp a newly filled glass and join the festivities with a toast. He beckoned for more students to come and test their livers against the might of Mistral Coast Black Kraken Rum before turning back to the newest comer.
“Where are my manners,” Morgan responded merrily. “I’m Morgan Rouge, more from the sea than Mistral, but I always welcome good company.” He raised his own glass and urged the others to do the same before downing yet another shot.
“Now what’s your names and where’d you fellows get your slashes?” Morgan gestured toward his own tattooed arm and the black silhouette of an anchor inked into his skin. He’d noticed that his new companions all shared their own inked etchings and he was interested in their history.
“Mine was an old artist off the coast, bit of a family emblem.”
Good to see the team slots are filling up.
@FateWeaver
Come by for a drink then. I believe our characters are on the same team and I think it'd make for an amusing first impression.
Come by for a drink then. I believe our characters are on the same team and I think it'd make for an amusing first impression.
Meanwhile, to those remaining in the ballroom. CAPTAIN MORGAN HAS ARRIVED.
Morgan Rouge - Beacon Academy Ballroom - Monday Evening
Morgan downed another shot of rum, letting the burning liquor vanish down the back of his throat before letting off an impressive belch.
“And that,” he said with gleaming smile. “Is how you you’re supposed to take a shot!”
Onlookers cheered, some clapping and some merely looking in awe as he promptly refilled his shot glass with another measure of rum from his rapidly dwindling supply he’d managed to [color=ed1c24][/color]sneak aboard the airship earlier. All around Morgan’s little stake of space in the ballroom interested or bewildered students tried their own hand at sampling Morgan’s stock of Mistral Coast Black Kraken Rum.
He’d only had about eight other shot glasses in the depths of one his steel chests so he’d been divvying up drink and sharing out the glasses to as many of the other students who wanted to brave the strong liquor as he could with every finished shot. Some of the landlubbers (Vale kids mostly) took a quick sip and almost immediately handed their glasses off to someone else with sour expressions. Others had sipped at their glasses, wincing at the strong grade, but finishing them. A very respectable few were downing the shots whole like Morgan. But, he noted with satisfaction, no one was tanking them down quite as smoothly.
“Come on!” He bellowed, egging on the students currently holding glasses. “Finish up, we’ve got a whole room of layabouts to get drunk on the one night the professors decide to leave us completely unsupervised!”
He noted with a buzzed satisfaction that more were trying to repeat Morgan’s feat of alcoholism, and his little party was quickly drawing interest from the overfilled ballroom. Many of the other students around him were already flushed with inebriation and laughing at their own stories and jokes. The ice long shattered by the shared comradery that only a stiff drink could provide.
Empty shot glasses returned to the make-shift table Morgan had improvised one of his steel chests into, and he immediately refilled them from one of two remaining bottles of rum before raising his glass out to the rest of the students in the ballroom.
“Come on and join us,” Morgan bellowed, beckoning more students to come by for a drink. “There’s a big day awaiting us and we ought to greet it by the hair of the dog!”
Morgan downed another shot of rum, letting the burning liquor vanish down the back of his throat before letting off an impressive belch.
“And that,” he said with gleaming smile. “Is how you you’re supposed to take a shot!”
Onlookers cheered, some clapping and some merely looking in awe as he promptly refilled his shot glass with another measure of rum from his rapidly dwindling supply he’d managed to [color=ed1c24][/color]sneak aboard the airship earlier. All around Morgan’s little stake of space in the ballroom interested or bewildered students tried their own hand at sampling Morgan’s stock of Mistral Coast Black Kraken Rum.
He’d only had about eight other shot glasses in the depths of one his steel chests so he’d been divvying up drink and sharing out the glasses to as many of the other students who wanted to brave the strong liquor as he could with every finished shot. Some of the landlubbers (Vale kids mostly) took a quick sip and almost immediately handed their glasses off to someone else with sour expressions. Others had sipped at their glasses, wincing at the strong grade, but finishing them. A very respectable few were downing the shots whole like Morgan. But, he noted with satisfaction, no one was tanking them down quite as smoothly.
“Come on!” He bellowed, egging on the students currently holding glasses. “Finish up, we’ve got a whole room of layabouts to get drunk on the one night the professors decide to leave us completely unsupervised!”
He noted with a buzzed satisfaction that more were trying to repeat Morgan’s feat of alcoholism, and his little party was quickly drawing interest from the overfilled ballroom. Many of the other students around him were already flushed with inebriation and laughing at their own stories and jokes. The ice long shattered by the shared comradery that only a stiff drink could provide.
Empty shot glasses returned to the make-shift table Morgan had improvised one of his steel chests into, and he immediately refilled them from one of two remaining bottles of rum before raising his glass out to the rest of the students in the ballroom.
“Come on and join us,” Morgan bellowed, beckoning more students to come by for a drink. “There’s a big day awaiting us and we ought to greet it by the hair of the dog!”
@snarfulblast
If you were dragged into the courtyard with the others quite a few of us are currently still sitting around figuring out the rest of the day. @rex's character is wandering about grumpily and my character Morgan just arrived on the scene as well.
If you were dragged into the courtyard with the others quite a few of us are currently still sitting around figuring out the rest of the day. @rex's character is wandering about grumpily and my character Morgan just arrived on the scene as well.
Alright, my first post is live! A little late to the party it seems, but in good order.
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