A man in imperial guard regalia walked quickly down a corridor. He stopped at the door to the bar and hesitated. He shook his head and entered. He looked at the foreign faces looking for any in his regiment. He saw none, the harakoni Warhawks were probably still in the rack. Thomas Brantley shook his head, he had no idea why he and his regiment were here, nobody did.
He sat at the bar and took off his helmet, and unslung his rifle, setting the former on the counter and latter next to him propped up.
"What's on tap?"
English
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[b][i]Aliza smiles and hands you a menu. "Basically anything as you can see" she states as she cleans a glass. You see everything from light beer to human blood.[/i][/b]
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He shrugged. "I'll have a craft beer then, surprise me."
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[b][i]She cracks open a large bottle and slides it to you, it's freezing cold. It smells quite strong.[/i][/b]
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He sniffs it for a moment then shrugs and begins to drink it. "So, do you have any idea what's going on here?"