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Asheville

Mortem Pub and Inn

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a part of Asheville, by Vercerigo.

Nightmare Fuel

Vercerigo holds sovereignty over Mortem Pub and Inn, giving them the ability to make limited changes.

594 readers have been here.

Setting

A non-discriminating bar for Killers of every kind. Have a pint of wine, beer, blood, or whatever you want. There is a floor above it, with rooms for tired or wounded Killers to stay in.
The interior design style is very interesting.

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Mortem Pub and Inn

Nightmare Fuel

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Mortem Pub and Inn is a part of The Asheville Forest.

1 Characters Here

Peter Rosevault [41] NPC | The grim bartender

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Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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"Oh am I your enemy?" Carlyl asked in almost a cooing tone as he pulled his hand back from the bar and began scratching the pad of his thumb. "I am honestly hurt, Mr. Smith. I was already planning our future together."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Mr. Smith's grin widens. "I still think you kill through your jokes, and no you are not my enemy. You would be dead." He takes another sip from his drink and sets it down. He moves in a blur of motion, and before Carlyl can react Mr. Smith has a pistol pressed under his chin. "Bang."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Carlyle tilted his head up a bit, his grin returning behind the mask. "Careful Mr. Smith, the last person who tried to kill me I fell in love with." His right wing slid down to the floor, moving back and forth as it swept the floor gently. "She's no longer of this world but I still have her body stashed away for safe keeping. I couldn't very well let her family put her in a grave. It just wouldn't be fair to bury such beauty. Don't you agree, Mr. Smith?"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Mr. Smith pulls back. "Who said I was going to kill you? If I were to really attack you I would blow your legs off, but we should not fight with each other when there are strong Hunters out there that need to be put down. Besides, you don't look like fun."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Carlyle's wing stopped sweeping the floor and folded itself against his back once again. "I don't look like fun? How is that?" he asked, trying not to be actually offended by this. His claw pierced through his thumb but kept scratching, ignoring the blood that dripped down into his palm.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Mr. Smith looks over Carlyle. "You seem like you would have too much fun. Though I'm sure the look on your face when I put a shotgun blast through you mask would be nice." He drops the pistol behind him, and it appears to disappear in the space between there and the ground.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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"So....me enjoying myself takes away from your own fun? How harsh." Carlyle turned back to the bar and leaned back. "Feels strange sitting in one place for so long and being so low to the ground "

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Mr. Smith chuckles. "I hear you. I don't being in one place for long. Someone might find me" He glances over at the door. "Speaking of, how ready are you for a fight? Because we don't have long before some trouble shows up, and it will difficult to deal with. I would like some help. If not, we better scatter."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Checker rolled his eyes at the boasting going on next to him. Everyone knew Killers had their own tastes, and sometimes said tastes could only be provided by, say, a fetus. No point in boasting about it. They sounded like bloody five year olds, bragging about how bad they were. He clenched his teeth without changing his stoic expression and watched Rosevault make his drink.
When Mr. Smith mentioned “trouble showing up”, however, he perked up. He felt good enough for a fight, although he knew from experience that trouble didn’t necessarily always take form in the shape of a fight. He chuckled, remembering a certain Killer he once knew, and wondered how she was holding up. His hand instinctively moved to his shoulder, and he gave a small smile when he felt the 3-inch scar there. He closed his eyes and smiled. Their last encounter had been brief, painful, and pleasurable. Red, red everywhere….red….Red. Red Rain.
His eyes snapped open and his smile vanished. Could Red Rain be the trouble Mr. Smith was talking about? It would make sense. His mouth twisted into a smirk. He would do exactly what he did to him last time, and this time, he wouldn’t sustain any injuries, and make good ol’ RR’s even more painful...if that is, Red Rain is what Mr. Smith was talking about. And even then, Checker wondered if Red Rain would have the guts to show up at a Killer’s Only bar.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Carlyl frowned and looked around the bar. He wasn't one for fights. Especially when he knew nothing about why he was fighting. He preferred watching the senseless violence from a distance.
"Preferably not. Who would come in just to fight?" Carlyl asked. He looked over at Checker and waved with his fingers before looking back to Mr. Smith. He knew this was a bar for killers but it seemed strange nonetheless. Unless of course, there was someone who actually had a problem with someone else. Who was he to judge though?

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Mr. Smith does not say anything for a few moments. "I always know where my guns are. I met a Hunter recently. He seemed like he might be trouble, so I slipped one of my pistols into his bag...Doctors at that hospital work fast, don't they, Checker?" He finishes his drink and turns to face the door. He looks very excited. "Your friend from earlier is about fifty feet from the door up in a tree."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Carlyle hummed and slid off the bar stool and walked towards a window on the west wall. He pushed one of them open and leaned out the window, his large wings folded tightly against his back.
"So there is a hunter coming here? Who is the friend?" He asked, closing the window and turning to look at Mr. Smith and Checker.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Peter Rosevault scowled at the three Killers, not liking what the conversation was hinting at. "If there's going to be a face-off, take it outside." He said gruffly, sliding the newly made Snake Bite over to the kid. "No fights are allowed in here." He made eye contact with each of them in turn.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Checker clenched his teeth and looked down at the floor when Mr. Smith mentioned the 'hospital'. He didn't answer. Upon hearing the bartender warn them about fighting, he glanced up at Rosevault and narrowed his eyes when he saw that the bartender was glaring at him. Finally Checker gave up and looked away, feigning interest in his drink. He picked it up and swirled it around a bit. "I think..." He muttered, "I think he's talking about Red Rain. I bloody killed him about four bloody hours ago. Now he's gonna kill me." He sighed and jumped off the stool, still holding his drink. He strolled over to the window that Carlyl was at and leaned to the left, looking outside. Although he couldn't see anything, he knew that didn't mean anything. Especially in Red Rain's case.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Carlyl frowned at the bartender. He hadn't even gotten his drink. "Fine. I'll be outside." Carlyle jumped through the window only to land on the grass outside. He walked a couple steps from the window before spreading his wings and pushing himself off the ground. He flew in circles around the Inn as he eyed the forest. He wouldn't bother with fighting if there was another killer. However, if a hunter was coming there he'd gladly help.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Mr. Smith put a few bills on the bar to cover his drink. He goes over to the window. "I'll be nearby, Checker, but it would be best if you appeared alone, in my opinion." He clambers out the window, awkwardly. He breathes in the air and suddenly flies up into the sky.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Checker Character Portrait: Mr. Smith Character Portrait: Carlyl Character Portrait: Peter Rosevault
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Checker rolled his eyes. Of course Smith could fly. Of course. Why not? Looking down at the ground, he pondered his situation. There was a crazy indian guy with a bloody sword hiding out in the woods somewhere, waiting for Checker to step outside. Red Rain had the element of surprise. Checker pondered his own assets. He had two...allies(?) who both disliked Hunters, and Checker had already killed Red Rain once. He could do it again. He unsheathed his hooked knives from inside his sleeves and fingered them. Of course, Red Rain would probably be a little smarter this time. He probably wouldn't want another killer headache. He smiled. Two jokes in one sentence. He sighed, swallowed the rest of his drink, and set it down on a nearby table. He blinked and opened the door, feeling frigid air wash over him. He inhaled deeply, and began walking with a confident gait, heading straight to the forest, openly displaying his knives