Emillion Mods (emillionmods) wrote in emillion, @ 2013-09-20 07:54:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !group thread, arielle chiaro, cressida karth, eden dire, fumiya sasaki, kiernan manley, peony min, rené beau, rin yukimura |
The roof, the roof, the roof is on fire~
Who: OPEN
What: HELP! FIRE!
Where: Laughing Champion House - A Tavern in the commoners district.
When: Early evening - 5pm-ish!
Rating: Mark accordingly!
Status: INCOMPLETE!
Notes: Feel free to have your character help put out the fire, save the people stuck inside, keep the crowd back, etc! What would help in a situation like this so that the fire doesn't spread? DO IT!
The cook, Adoven Asgood, was a loud, gruff and brash man. He rattled about pots and pans, slamming them into the stove top, each other and sometimes an unlucky server’s head. He could often be heard grunting from the kitchen a word almost never spoken as he hunkered over the stove with a chef’s knife in one hand, a scowl deep so set across his brow and jaw that the lines there were thick from years of use. The knife marks in the cutting boards were a testament to the years of his angry tirades through the kitchen and tonight it would easily earn a few more battle wounds before all was said and done. “Order for the T-bone! Black as night!” There were no words but an angry glare and a grunt. As the first server left the meal ticket stabbed through the ticket holder. “Order for pasta, the mushier the better!” Another grunt, as a metal pot was picked up with a free hand and slammed into the deep stainless steel sink, the handle to the faucet smashed so hard it spun all the way around, clearly broken. The disdain with the order welling up in a throbbing vein at his neck as the ticket was stabbed above the overdone meat. “One burger! No lettuce, no ketchup, no tomato, no pickles, no mustard, no onions, only plain cheese, and unsalted french fries!” The third ticket was slammed down onto the holder and the third server swept herself out the door with a twirl, a smile and a wave just as a fourth server come in through the side door. “Garden Salad!” Now this one should be simple. “No iceberg, only romaine. No hearts, no leaf ends, no horizontally cut tomatoes and they must be grape - not cherry, hothouse, roma, heirloom or beefsteak -, red sweet onions not white or yellow, Persian cucumbers only and carrots minced not shredded, diced or shaved!” And the ticket was slammed onto the ticket holder. With that, the chef stomped towards the grill, slamming the knife into a block of wood hung near the stove, and not even noticing how the blade of the knife had sliced through the gas hose leading into the stove. Flipping on the stove top, he slammed a meaty fist into the nearby door handle of the meat fridge to pop it open before digging around to retrieve the select cut of T-bone. After a minute of digging around - as it appeared it was the last T-bone they had available this night - and crossing the item off the special’s board inside the kitchen so that the staff would know it was now out of stock. Re-capping the pen and shoving it back in place, Adoven then made his way back towards the stove and flicked on the ignition which clicked once, twice, and then seemed to click off. Frowning another minute would pass as he searched for the lighter to ignite the stove burner with and then returned, victorious with the raw meat in one hand, the lighter in the other, flicked on the stove top burner again and barely noted the distinct smell of gas a millisecond in the air until he’d brought the lighter up and flicked it on. The explosion could be heard down the block, the flames licked easily out of the kitchen and into the rest of the tavern scaring some patrons and street goers alike. A stampede was made toward the door, but not everyone would make it leaving some patrons trapped inside, and others ducked for cover in the streets. Kitchen staff bumbled out and tried to assure each other had made it out safely when one noticed Adoven was missing. That was, admittedly, only sends before the man can stiffly staggered out, meat burned black enough to be completely unrecognizable. “I think the kitchen’s on fire.” It may have been the first full sentence he’d spoken in years. With that, the man - his front blackened, his hairline burned back and his eyebrows clearly removed from his forehead - collapsed on the spot in front of the crowd that had gathered in front of the tavern in shock and awe as it continued to burn. |