Setting
The Clubhouse features a fully stocked bar, free board for members and miniature armory. The flags bear the irish flag, numerous coat-of-arms and brands of alcohol and motorbikes.
A scarred, broken and battered Harley Davidson hangs from the roof on swaying chains, decorated a bright green with black outlines and diamond patterns, bearing a bright green skull on the left side.
The bar features hundreds of alcohol tabs, enough for a few hundred men and women and a dozen bartenders. An M14 is mounted above the counter with a large bayonet, numerous chicken-scratch markings on the stock.
The free-board hotel is filled with bunk-beds, two men per room with enough room to decorate how the current owners of the room wish their rooms to resemble. It can accommodate a large amount of people.
The armory is locked with several locks and chains, filled to the brim with conventional arms and non-conventional. The walls are mounted with assault rifles, shotguns, pistols and enough ammunition to wage a world war.
There is also a large shed filled with motorbikes and other vehicles next to the clubhouse. The shed is painted a vibrant green, and can hold several hundred motorcycles.
Gae Ceann Clubhouse
A facade with Gothic accents marks the entry to Gae Ceann Clubhouse. Inside is covered in club related flags and paraphernalia. The Clubhouse features a fully stocked bar, surly biker atmosphere and Irish hospitality.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
| "out" to East Lanterna Way » | ||
Gae Ceann Clubhouse is a part of 
East Lanterna Way.
2 Places in Gae Ceann Clubhouse:
10 Characters Here
Gerekn Kelluf [47]
Jack Ceann [45] Vice President for the Gae Ceann. Who happens to be an angry streetfighter and casual werewolf.
Awiti [45]
Yojimbo [37] "No comment.."
Croaker [35] Vampire Berzerker
Ub 'The Dealer' Refferand [13] "I suggest you buy or get lost..."
Hark [12] An enforcer for the Gae Ceann
Aiden Blar [5]
Drake scatter [1] Drake is 49 and 6'1 foot tall, he is a drunk and likes to drink whiskey. Altough he can be stubborn he is quite coolheaded and is smart, most of the time planning ahead before others can react to him. He has a soft side if people talk to him enough.
Chico Gallagher [0] A large Hispanic man dressed in black leather and kelly green.
Start Character Here »
- 123 posts here • Page 5 of 5 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5
It was that very night that Jack stumbled back into the bar, his leather coat falling to the floor and his shaggy wolf hide being dragged painfully across the floor, leaving a trail of thick crimson fluid. Everything was wrong with the way he moved to people who knew him, and even the way he was seeing things.
Jack's muzzle was coated in a thick layer of blood, his left eye was glazed over with a white viscous substance, all color was drained from the Iris and a thick gouge stretched down his chin in the shape of a panther claw. There was no amount of supernatural regeneration or healing that could fix that problem.
The werewolf stumbled though the bar, most of the late-night goers had retreated to their rooms and those that were still awake in the clubhouse were too drunk to notice the silent pining. Jack was very much a lone wolf, but he wasn't going to survive this one alone, and he knew just the person to go to.
The basement trapdoor had never been so far, his clawed hands had fallen short of every hold to help him along due to the lack of depth perception. All the wolf had wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but the poison would take care of him if he did that, he could feel the substance doing it's twisted work.
Jack's muzzle was coated in a thick layer of blood, his left eye was glazed over with a white viscous substance, all color was drained from the Iris and a thick gouge stretched down his chin in the shape of a panther claw. There was no amount of supernatural regeneration or healing that could fix that problem.
The werewolf stumbled though the bar, most of the late-night goers had retreated to their rooms and those that were still awake in the clubhouse were too drunk to notice the silent pining. Jack was very much a lone wolf, but he wasn't going to survive this one alone, and he knew just the person to go to.
The basement trapdoor had never been so far, his clawed hands had fallen short of every hold to help him along due to the lack of depth perception. All the wolf had wanted to do was curl up and sleep, but the poison would take care of him if he did that, he could feel the substance doing it's twisted work.
Perro knew when his brethren were bleeding.
Jack barely had to lift the trap door before the familiar masked man pushed it open. His breaths sounded hollow as he sniffed at his weakening brother in arms before wasting no time in bringing him to one of the chairs by the fire. Granted, the current size-difference between Perro and the wolfed out Jack made things a little awkward. He stared at Jack in his bad eye and clicked his tongue beneath the mask.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course. Whoever hurt his closest confidant in the Gae Ceann's days were already numbered. Perro could pick up a lingering scent as he worked, removing his gloves and placing fingers on Jack's muzzle, into the cut to numb it out and gradually heal it to a lighter scar. There was nothing he could do short of offering the blood and flesh of a god to the were...and while Perro cared about his friend, he wasn't ready for that sort of commitment. It was a communing, spirit-binding thing he wanted nothing to do with.
Instead he focused on the poison coursing through Jack's blood, closing his eyes beneath his mask to concentrate. Slowly, Jack's strength seemed to return as Perro's legs started to tremble as the godhound drew the poison into himself. He was immortal, it was nothing to suffer a little venom, but it was exhausting, and by the time he was done, he'd dropped to his knees and was shaking as if he were cold.
"It's- it's all I can do."
Jack barely had to lift the trap door before the familiar masked man pushed it open. His breaths sounded hollow as he sniffed at his weakening brother in arms before wasting no time in bringing him to one of the chairs by the fire. Granted, the current size-difference between Perro and the wolfed out Jack made things a little awkward. He stared at Jack in his bad eye and clicked his tongue beneath the mask.
"What the fuck happened to you?"
It was a rhetorical question, of course. Whoever hurt his closest confidant in the Gae Ceann's days were already numbered. Perro could pick up a lingering scent as he worked, removing his gloves and placing fingers on Jack's muzzle, into the cut to numb it out and gradually heal it to a lighter scar. There was nothing he could do short of offering the blood and flesh of a god to the were...and while Perro cared about his friend, he wasn't ready for that sort of commitment. It was a communing, spirit-binding thing he wanted nothing to do with.
Instead he focused on the poison coursing through Jack's blood, closing his eyes beneath his mask to concentrate. Slowly, Jack's strength seemed to return as Perro's legs started to tremble as the godhound drew the poison into himself. He was immortal, it was nothing to suffer a little venom, but it was exhausting, and by the time he was done, he'd dropped to his knees and was shaking as if he were cold.
"It's- it's all I can do."
"Th-Thanks." Jack replied, then slumped himself against the end of the wall next to the trapdoor, the werewolf breathed hard was the poison was drawn form his system, his legs kicked and scampered on the spot, scratching scars into the woodwork, the drunken members of the Gae Ceann were still stumbling about, and some had even fallen asleep on the various stools they'd been sitting on, in no position to help either party.
The wolf hadn't had a packet of smokes to grab, and it'd be awhile before he rescinded into his normal form, when Jack wolfed out, he wolfed out for weeks on end, months, he'd gone a full year once. Jack was marking this all down in his head, what was this? The fifth or second time that Perro had his back wherever he went, he owed him a lot.
"Do. Do I need to help?"
The wolf hadn't had a packet of smokes to grab, and it'd be awhile before he rescinded into his normal form, when Jack wolfed out, he wolfed out for weeks on end, months, he'd gone a full year once. Jack was marking this all down in his head, what was this? The fifth or second time that Perro had his back wherever he went, he owed him a lot.
"Do. Do I need to help?"
Perro was sprawled on the floor of the bar with nobody to help him. But he didn't want help, he didn't want to be coddled, just allowed to do his own thing. If Jack was stuck in wolfed-out mode for a while, he didn't expect the were to dote on him either. The only thing he wanted right now was-
"A bucket to purge this poison into would be lovely."
And.
"Maybe a blanket so curl up in to keep warm because if I change now I might break a few things..."
"A bucket to purge this poison into would be lovely."
And.
"Maybe a blanket so curl up in to keep warm because if I change now I might break a few things..."
The werewolf stood up, scampering to his feet and testing with his right foreleg. Jack pulled himself upwards, stumbling weakly over to the counter as his body got used to the rapid changes in his system. The wolf leaned over the counter and threw his hands outward to grab at a bucket inside the shelving and slid it across the floor.
It was going to take awhile for the werewolf to get used to the blindness in his right eye, the lack of depth of perception was something he took for granted when he still had it, only now did he realize he needed it for a lot of things. The blank iris swiveled around in it's furred socket uselessly.
The werewolf stumbled down the hallway containing all the doors to the various bunks of other members, opened a door, there was a loud scream and went in. There was a still pause and the werewolf came out with a thick woolen blanket in both of his hands, steadying himself on the hallway walls as he stumbled back over and held it out.
"They didn't need it." Jack growled.
It was going to take awhile for the werewolf to get used to the blindness in his right eye, the lack of depth of perception was something he took for granted when he still had it, only now did he realize he needed it for a lot of things. The blank iris swiveled around in it's furred socket uselessly.
The werewolf stumbled down the hallway containing all the doors to the various bunks of other members, opened a door, there was a loud scream and went in. There was a still pause and the werewolf came out with a thick woolen blanket in both of his hands, steadying himself on the hallway walls as he stumbled back over and held it out.
"They didn't need it." Jack growled.
"Thank you," Perro rumbled as he took the blanket and wrapped it weakly around his shoulders before doing something that was so rare it probably took Jack by surprise: he removed his mask entirely.
Fuck. He was handsome underneath that painted grin, sharp eyes that denoted a strangely Asian upbringing, despite his state as a cwn annwn, a fine nose, high cheekbones, a chiseled jaw. If you were going to be a god, might as well be a GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL ONE.
His beauty paid off because even when he started to vomit black, noxious venom mixed with bloody stomach contents, it was still eerily graceful.
He glanced up at the wolfed out Jack between heaves. "H-how are you feeling? HUUURP..."
Fuck. He was handsome underneath that painted grin, sharp eyes that denoted a strangely Asian upbringing, despite his state as a cwn annwn, a fine nose, high cheekbones, a chiseled jaw. If you were going to be a god, might as well be a GODDAMN BEAUTIFUL ONE.
His beauty paid off because even when he started to vomit black, noxious venom mixed with bloody stomach contents, it was still eerily graceful.
He glanced up at the wolfed out Jack between heaves. "H-how are you feeling? HUUURP..."
Jack wanted to quirk an eyebrow, but with all the messed up bones in his head, it was all designed for being a big bad monster of the night, the werewolf stumbled his way to the bar counter and hunched his back against it, laying his long furred arms on the stools and letting his head drop onto the counter.
Jack responded with a slight shrug, trying to convey the feeling of being unsure about how felt.
Jack responded with a slight shrug, trying to convey the feeling of being unsure about how felt.
Perro pushed the filled bucket away for somebody else to deal with it, dabbing daintily at his lips with the corner of the blanket.. He stood up and wobbled his way to a bar stool. The effects of the venom would wear off after a little bit, and until then he ordered a hot tea to stave off the chill. He observed the wolfy Jack some more, especially his dead eye before asking. "What happened...exactly?"
Jack's leg twitched violently, scratching another scar upon the woodwork floor as his body got used to the fact that there wasn't any poison in his system anymore. The wolf held up a hand to his dead eye, waving it around before he answered. "Not so important. Panther chick... Hybrid buddy." The wolf coughed out in a husky voice.
"I'll find em'."
"I'll find em'."
Unused to being so easily moved about, Philius looked at the bouncer with surprise. He paused to take in the room around him, eyes wide as they fell upon the hanging motorcycle and the bayoneted rifle, then turned back to the large man. "I, uh..." Blinking and marshaling his thoughts, he continued. "My name is Philius Wolfinson. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance and wished to thank you for intervening with that awful harridan." He held out the book.
Hark grinned. "Hi, Phill. I'm Hark." The bouncer introduced himself, moving his hand forward to shake the book as if it were a hand. "That was nothing." The biker crossed to the counter and swiped up two empty glasses, pouring something cheap into the two glasses and holding one out. "Gae Ceann's here to help, especially when it comes to fuckheads like that."
The room was filled with bikers playing pool, talking about motorcycles and some were even disassembling rifles resting on booths, laughing and drinking as they did so. It wasn't your typical bar, that was for sure. There was something vaguely irish playing in the background and the bartender behind the counter was missing a huge chunk of his face.
"Harridan? Who even uses that word anymore, Phil."
The room was filled with bikers playing pool, talking about motorcycles and some were even disassembling rifles resting on booths, laughing and drinking as they did so. It wasn't your typical bar, that was for sure. There was something vaguely irish playing in the background and the bartender behind the counter was missing a huge chunk of his face.
"Harridan? Who even uses that word anymore, Phil."
Hiding his astonishment at the bartender's countenance, and frozen to the spot for a moment, Phil moved to keep up with Hark "Do people not use harridan anymore? I find it to be a particularly satisfying pejorative. Well, nevermind that. This... club, Gae Ceann, is sort of a local neighborhood watch?"
He accepted the offered drink graciously, sniffed, noticed that it was whiskey, and downed it like a shot, not missing a beat. Phil again offered the book. "Anyway, this is a copy of Cyrano de Bergerac, one of my favorite plays. This is from its second publishing run in 1900. The first was in 1897, the year the play premiered."
He accepted the offered drink graciously, sniffed, noticed that it was whiskey, and downed it like a shot, not missing a beat. Phil again offered the book. "Anyway, this is a copy of Cyrano de Bergerac, one of my favorite plays. This is from its second publishing run in 1900. The first was in 1897, the year the play premiered."
Hark took up the book and opened it, eyeing the first chapter with amusement. "Nah, local motorcycle chapter friend." Hark gestured to the Harley attached to the roof with chains. "First chapter, original and the first, man." Hark threw down the whiskey and slammed the glass on the counter, tip down.
"We live here, just as everyone else does, we look out for each other, Phil. We're all in this shit together, that's what the Vankoryth taught us." Hark continued, grinning. "My bike was made in 1988, not far off in the production line of this here book. I might give it a read, thanks friend." Hark hefted up the book, flicked though the pages once more and slammed it on the counter.
"I've got a feelin' those fuckheads aren't done though. If it's one thing those outsider dickheads do, it's do things in the extreme."
"We live here, just as everyone else does, we look out for each other, Phil. We're all in this shit together, that's what the Vankoryth taught us." Hark continued, grinning. "My bike was made in 1988, not far off in the production line of this here book. I might give it a read, thanks friend." Hark hefted up the book, flicked though the pages once more and slammed it on the counter.
"I've got a feelin' those fuckheads aren't done though. If it's one thing those outsider dickheads do, it's do things in the extreme."
"I should probably get going soon. I've a lot of work ahead of me and not a lot of sleep behind me, but if you really think they'll come back, why not set some traps for them? I mean, that truck was big, but what good would a plasma cannon do her if she wound up falling into a covered pit with molotov cocktails raining in from above?"
Phil sat down on one of the stools, giving the problem some thought.
Phil sat down on one of the stools, giving the problem some thought.
Hark laughed and saluted the bartender with a mocking salute. "Show im'." The bartender nodded, stepping though the door blocking people from going behind the counter and pulling the rug away, shoving a key into the lock and yanking it open and gesturing inside with a middle finger. "We're more than prepared, Phil."
Hark refilled their drinks, slammed his down and walked over to the trapdoor, jumping down and pulling some form of rocket launcher from the bottom, patting the barrel and shoving a leg up on the grooves that held the trapdoor and throwing it back down.
"Not the first time we've had trouble here. Don't worry about it, Benji and his gang of ultimate bad-asses will protect you."
Hark refilled their drinks, slammed his down and walked over to the trapdoor, jumping down and pulling some form of rocket launcher from the bottom, patting the barrel and shoving a leg up on the grooves that held the trapdoor and throwing it back down.
"Not the first time we've had trouble here. Don't worry about it, Benji and his gang of ultimate bad-asses will protect you."
Phil's eyes were as wide as saucers. "That was... a rocket launcher. A giant gun... that shoots rockets. How often does this... I... should head home. This is a lot to think about. I should get a nap before Nora comes over. I mean... before I open the shop. Thank you again, Mr. Hark, and I will sleep easier knowing you fellows are here and keeping an eye out."
He got up and walked toward the door, looking a bit stunned by all the recent revelations regarding what he thought was just a sleepy little berg with some vampires running around.
He got up and walked toward the door, looking a bit stunned by all the recent revelations regarding what he thought was just a sleepy little berg with some vampires running around.
David shoved his hands into the pockets of his coat as he stepped just inside the bar. Calculated eyes searched the patrons as he activated a pair of shock grenades and tossed them into the room. The first landed in the open floor as it rolled a few feet and detonated, and the second was tossed to land behind the bar-counter.
The black spherical objects briefly emitted an output of intense light and sound, and those caught within their radius were swift to crumble to the floor unconscious - though alive.
Those that managed to instinctively take cover were spared the debilitating effects of the grenades, though David was quick in throwing his coat off to reveal the heavy arsenal of weapons beneath. It was the plasma pistol that he unholstered to fire a shot into the chest of one of the bartenders - a young woman that had been unfortunate enough to be outside of the blast radius of the shock grenades.
The thought briefly crossed his mind that it seemed a waste to kill the young woman, but he didn't relish the thought of her going for that gun that hung above the bar.
He extended his left hand out towards the stairway with his palm raised to unleash a wave of kinetic force from the device on his hand should anyone attempt to enter the bar from that route, and the pistol he turned on the entryway to open fire should the bouncer, Hark, make an appearance.
The black spherical objects briefly emitted an output of intense light and sound, and those caught within their radius were swift to crumble to the floor unconscious - though alive.
Those that managed to instinctively take cover were spared the debilitating effects of the grenades, though David was quick in throwing his coat off to reveal the heavy arsenal of weapons beneath. It was the plasma pistol that he unholstered to fire a shot into the chest of one of the bartenders - a young woman that had been unfortunate enough to be outside of the blast radius of the shock grenades.
The thought briefly crossed his mind that it seemed a waste to kill the young woman, but he didn't relish the thought of her going for that gun that hung above the bar.
He extended his left hand out towards the stairway with his palm raised to unleash a wave of kinetic force from the device on his hand should anyone attempt to enter the bar from that route, and the pistol he turned on the entryway to open fire should the bouncer, Hark, make an appearance.
As David made his way into the bar, a single black Rolls screeched to a halt outside. Should Hark still be outside as the chaos ensued inside, four mobsters emerged from the windows and opened fire with Disruptor RCW assault rifles. It was like an epilepsy light show as brilliant and rapid flashes of green light lit up the front of the clubhouse as the Ha'la'tha mobsters tore into it from outside.
On the inside streaks of green seared through walls and windows alike, screaming and crackling as they splintered furniture, stone wall, and wooden decor.
The black car suddenly drove off, tires screeching as it made it's way down the street, Sam Adama waiting in a third black sedan parked in an alleyway across the road.
On the inside streaks of green seared through walls and windows alike, screaming and crackling as they splintered furniture, stone wall, and wooden decor.
The black car suddenly drove off, tires screeching as it made it's way down the street, Sam Adama waiting in a third black sedan parked in an alleyway across the road.
The projectiles whistled though the air, chipping off flakes of concrete from the entrance and scorching windows. The people that weren't taken out by the shock grenades were shouting, a majority of them were bikers and they were hauling themselves into cover and dragging the stunned or shot into the cover, it was a frantic display.
Benjamin looked up from his desk. The President got to his feet, pulling a hatchet from the nearby rack and sliding it though his waistband, taking up a shotgun and racking the pump as a shell filled with bone fragments, human nails and teeth was shoved into the chamber with a loud click.
Hark wasn't stupid, he hit the floor and as soon as they drove off, he hit the entrance and slammed his back into the corner, taking a few deep breaths and peeking around the corner, that was a lot of damage these assholes were inflicting. Hark held a hand infront of his face and fired blindly at the chains supporting the large motorbike hanging from the roof, which promptly snapped and begun to fall, hopefully landing on David's face.
At the same time somebody dived off the balcony, tearing off his jacket and letting the wolf take over, hitting the concrete and scampering off after the car, following the noises and smells. The wolf quickly gained, leaping up onto a roof and aiming for a leap unto the black car's roof, six inch claws looking for a solid grip.
Benjamin begun to break into a run for the stairs down into the bar.
Benjamin looked up from his desk. The President got to his feet, pulling a hatchet from the nearby rack and sliding it though his waistband, taking up a shotgun and racking the pump as a shell filled with bone fragments, human nails and teeth was shoved into the chamber with a loud click.
Hark wasn't stupid, he hit the floor and as soon as they drove off, he hit the entrance and slammed his back into the corner, taking a few deep breaths and peeking around the corner, that was a lot of damage these assholes were inflicting. Hark held a hand infront of his face and fired blindly at the chains supporting the large motorbike hanging from the roof, which promptly snapped and begun to fall, hopefully landing on David's face.
At the same time somebody dived off the balcony, tearing off his jacket and letting the wolf take over, hitting the concrete and scampering off after the car, following the noises and smells. The wolf quickly gained, leaping up onto a roof and aiming for a leap unto the black car's roof, six inch claws looking for a solid grip.
Benjamin begun to break into a run for the stairs down into the bar.
As the car continued down the road, one of the Mobsters caught sight of the werewolf chasing them. With a brief exchange in Tauron, the Car accelerated even harder, as the wolf descended with an audible clunk on the roof.
"What the frak?" One of the Mobsters said, growling as he looked back, a third Mobster holding up his Disruptor RCW And firing through the roof, sending searing bolts of green up through the roof at the Werewolf as the car jerked and swerved to shake the creature off.
Alongside the black car, a white pickup pulled up similar to Cally's. It was however unmarked. The white clad mercenary swiveling his rotary plasma cannon on the back, and holding down the trigger. The weapon barked it's report and sent a flurry of superheated plasma, with the intent on either killing, maiming or harming the wolf, or at the very least, force him off the car.
"What the frak?" One of the Mobsters said, growling as he looked back, a third Mobster holding up his Disruptor RCW And firing through the roof, sending searing bolts of green up through the roof at the Werewolf as the car jerked and swerved to shake the creature off.
Alongside the black car, a white pickup pulled up similar to Cally's. It was however unmarked. The white clad mercenary swiveling his rotary plasma cannon on the back, and holding down the trigger. The weapon barked it's report and sent a flurry of superheated plasma, with the intent on either killing, maiming or harming the wolf, or at the very least, force him off the car.
David heard the screech of car tires before he heard the opening gunfire and he knew well what it meant. He dropped to the floor, just as much in the line of fire as the other occupants of the building. With his back to the wall and the windows overhead, he was under the spray of plasma, but bits of broken glass, charred wood, and chips of concrete rained down around him until at last the vehicles drove off leaving a moment of silence in their wake.
The silence was short lived as both David and Hark went into motion.
David's eyes followed the line of trajectory from Hark's guns to the chains overhead. He dove forward from his position against the wall to take cover behind the length of the bar. He took only a moment to withdraw another grenade from his belt to toss over the length of the counter. As it detonated in a bright flash of light and sound, he rose back to his feet and turned to return fire on Hark in a spray of plasma bolts.
Benjamin's appearance in the stairway would be met with a wave of kinetic force from David's open palm that if it struck would lift him up and toss him back against the steps like a rag-doll. Within the narrow confines of the stairway the focused pulse of kinetic force from the device on David's hand would be difficult to physically evade as there was nowhere to take cover from it.
The silence was short lived as both David and Hark went into motion.
David's eyes followed the line of trajectory from Hark's guns to the chains overhead. He dove forward from his position against the wall to take cover behind the length of the bar. He took only a moment to withdraw another grenade from his belt to toss over the length of the counter. As it detonated in a bright flash of light and sound, he rose back to his feet and turned to return fire on Hark in a spray of plasma bolts.
Benjamin's appearance in the stairway would be met with a wave of kinetic force from David's open palm that if it struck would lift him up and toss him back against the steps like a rag-doll. Within the narrow confines of the stairway the focused pulse of kinetic force from the device on David's hand would be difficult to physically evade as there was nowhere to take cover from it.
- 123 posts here • Page 5 of 5 • 1, 2, 3, 4, 5