Fantasy Dons Pan-Dimensional Diner v 3.0

[MrMopp]

Aaaaaaaaright, wazzup ya bums! Names Don, and welcome to my Pan-Dimensional Diner, best bar and eatery in the multiverse.

Now this diner ain’t called "Pan-dimensional" cause I thought it would sound fancy. The place is a literal nexus world, free from continuity and context, where characters of all and shapes and genres can hang out from space aliens, to knights in shining armor, to caped crusaders, to cyborg pirates! ( Hell, I once had had sentient stepladders hobble up and order a Shirley temple. True story). All of them escaping their life stories for a moment to bum around and run their mouth with weirdos a reality over, or maybe just to drown at the bar, or maybe just to grab a burger and a killer sarsaparilla milkshake. Ain’t gonna lie, it’s flipp’n three ringed circus most days, but if you ain’t afraid of weirdness and wild ass bar fights, then I figure you’re gonna have some interesting stories to take home.

Lets lay down some rules though.

1. NO KILLING ANYONE! What does this look like, Mos Eisley?

2. BAR BRAWL?! Sure, knock yourselves out. But keep the safety on, would’ja?! If things get out of hand, there will be some Don Intervention goin on.

3. NO MIND CONTROL CRAP. Seriously, its creepy as f*ck and nobody likes it.

4. STAY OF THE KITCHEN. Our cook is a maniac an I will not be responsible for whatever he does to you.

5. MIND YA FUCKING LANGUI- aw, crap.

6. PANTS! WEAR EM, DAMNIT!

 

[MrMopp]

Dons diner is a diner like any other, except not in the least.

Theme alone seems to be the theme here. Like, all the benches, chairs and tables were where they ought to be- in two neat rows wrapping halfway around the bar in a J shape- but were all mismatched. The bench might anything from paisley, to plaid, to a super intelligent shade of blue. and the "chairs" ranged from boxes, to barrels to kingly thrones, to something made of evil silver that would convince you were the Lizard King if you sat in it too long. Tables might be cut from tree stumps, or polished marble, or might hover the air with a Superman tablecloth on it for giggles. And all around, trinkets from different dimensions from glowing battle axes, to alien swimsuit catalogs, to a sentient Big Mouth Billy Bass, to the steering wheel of a sky pirates airship, littered every inch of wall like the hoard of a draconic packrat (though only sparsely and orderly in the lounge corner, which had no lack of character on its own.)

Every other wall-table had a nice, scenic view outside. Or someone's outside anyway, since each window peered into a random scene in a random dimension ( and then there's that one on #5 with the curtains tied closed and the hand written sign saying "OUT OF ORDER. DO NOT PEEK. Seriously. Don't say we didn't warn you." Frankly, you're better off not knowing). But the real show you'll find inside, where dozens of people and creatures from different times and places gather to drink, dine, and for a while, leave their stories troubles behind.
__________________________
Today was just another day in paradise. Dishes were clinking, the smell of Boomers frijoles filled the air, and someone had put a Canadian quarter in the jukebox so now it was expressing its displeasure with nonstop Nickleback. Don was his usual post at the bar counter, mixing an orcish cocktail that could probably drop Godzilla while his senior waitress, a scrawny yellow caninoid creature named Yahlie, stood up on the counter behind him and was merrily touching up the dry erase menu with a hand drawn wreath of primary colored flowers around the edge. Bets were going around on whether Don would have a conniption fit when he turned around or an allergic reaction.

 

[Viper Actual]

The door bell rang cheerfully as a new customer arrived. Come to think about it, new was perhaps the not right term?
Yatarrak rubbed his hands together as the built-in filters of his suit cycled and filtered through the oxygen inside.
With slow steps he made his way over to the far end of the counter where he seated himself on one of the stools (in reallity a metal hand from some gargantuan machine) and placed his hands on the counter.

Yatarrak was one of the regulars and as such he knew not to bother Don but wait for Yahlie to pick up his rainbow of various smells.

His last journey in particular had been a rough one. A world known as Warkis IX was known for its export of extremely rare and, supposedly, perfect shoes. The natives were not keen on trade however and as such negotiations had taken a staggering four months to complete.

Now Yatarrak was ready to relax for a while before taking up a new customer.

 

[MrMopp]

Yahlie would have whipped around at the bell if she hadn’t been so engrossed in her little masterpiece (she doesn’t cut corners when she draws a flower, y’know. Gotta put detail into that stuff). In fact, on hearing the ding-a-ling of customer service a’calling, she flattened her ears against her head, licked her chops and buckled down harder with the stubbornness of an artist with an unfinished project. Just one more petal....

She was also flicking her furry tail like a agitated metronome, and as Don was down there getting swatted with it (you could see his eyes rollllllll to the back of his head), the man was finally annoyed enough to care to wonder what his squirrelly waitress was doing back there in the first place. “Yahlie,” he growled, swatting aside the furry appendage aside as he turned. “What the he’ll are you doing up-“. Then he saw she was doing his menu board up like an elementary school luau. “-Aw, for real?!” He whined in exasperation. “I thought you were changing a lightbulb or something!”

Yahlie half turned her head to look at Don. It was the earnest, doe eyed look of someone who‘d always known they were too cute to get in trouble. “Sign was boring.” She shrugged honestly. She smiled honey-sweetly and waved Dons worries away in a pish-posh manner. “Yahlie make better. You see!” While Don was still sputtering, she noticed Yatarrak at the counter and abruptly shifted gears. “HI SALES GUY!” She waved.

“Sales guy?” Don whipped around like he was expecting to see Harold Hill himself with his striped shirt and big ass briefcase, but before the words ‘we dont want any, piss off ‘ got out of his mouth, he recognized an old regular of his and quickly changed his tune. “Ay, ay, ay! Yatarrak!” He said, throwing out his arms jovially, “Long time! Where ya been?”

 

[DovahBeat]

Sabjorn opened the door to hear the ringing of a bell, and strolled on up to the bar. He had been here a few times before, enough to be somewhat used to the chaos of the Diner, but not a regular yet. Sabjorn had first discovered this place by accident, and considering the outrageous shit he's been through, accepted it fairly easily. It became a place for him to relax between traveling, and honestly the chaos kind of amused him. Is this why people worshipped Sheogorath, Daedric Prince of madness?
Eh, didn't matter. He's had his fill of Daedric Princes, considering one literally ripped out and stole part of his soul.
"Hey, Don. And, Yatarrak, right?" He glanced between the two, he'd heard and seen the other a few times before, but couldn't say he really knew him.
He sat down at the bar, and grinned widely at Don. "Surprise me, I want to get fuckin' wasted."

 

[honeylemon]

Ruu
Ronu Kanim
The Diner

Ruu slinked in, a touch of smoke silencing the bell before it could announce his arrival. He never had a hand for the theatrics anyway, so no regrets passed his mind over the not-so dramatic entrance. He wasn’t here to put on a show.
Ruu’s eyes worked overtime for only a moment before he forced himself to calm down. This was not a hostile environment, so he shouldn’t feel in danger. He needed to stop assessing threats before the sheer amount of information made him pass out.
His human form was getting a tad uncomfortable, so he decided to make this quick. Feet carrying him over to the bar, a shadowed claw fished through nonexistent pockets in search of some form of currency. Ruu regretted not carrying more; that was the first thing he would do after returning to his world-hopping.
Having secured one of the runic chips used in a world he feared returning to, he took a seat- upon his smoke, he didn’t trust the odd conglomeration of multilated monster parts- as the smoke that often floated around his face faded. Ruu looked over the menu once, twice, three times before deciding. He flipped the octagonal “coin” in his hand a few times before speaking.
“I’d like both the stew and dessert of the day, please,” he said, not knowing what name to address. A not-clawed finger held the coin to the surface of the bar.

 

[Viper Actual]

Yatarrak bowed his head and shrugged. "This one has been to many places, friend Don." He made a gesture with his hand. "Business bring Yatarrak to many places. This one's latest business involved shoes. Perfect shoes." The merchant cleared its throat and pointed towards the menu with one hand while placing several rectangular platinum coins on the counter. "Friend Yahlie. This one would humbly wish to drink milkshake. Chocolate."

When Sabjorn spoke up the merchant tilted his head towads him and nodded. Another regular. "Greetings upon you, Sabjorn."

"This one would ask how the war on your world goes." Yatarrak snickered, a rare sound which was distorted by his helmet. "Yatarrak would also like to offer his services once more. This one recently came across rare footwear that supposedly make one faster."

 

[DovahBeat]

"Which one?" Sabjorn glanced back at Yatarrak, and raised an eyebrow.
"The Aldmeri Dominion is acting on their supremacist views as always, the Daggerfall Covenant and Ebonheart Pact are at each other's throats, Akaviri have invaded Tamriel, and Molag Bal is trying to merge Nirn with Oblivion. Oh, and dragons are attacking Elsweyr. World's gone to shit, and I'm left to sort through all this mess." He paused, detaching a bag of gold coins from his belt and putting it on the bartop between him and Don.
"I appreciate the offer, Yatarrak, but we're going to need more than some enchanted footwear to get us through this." He sighed, propping his head up on his hand and leaning his arm against the bartop.
"Don, whatever you make me, make it a double."

 

[MrMopp]

Yatarrak bowed his head and shrugged. "This one has been to many places, friend Don." He made a gesture with his hand. "Business bring Yatarrak to many places. This one's latest business involved shoes. Perfect shoes."

Don gave Yatarrak a queer look. “Shoes.” He asked.

The merchant cleared its throat and pointed towards the menu with one hand while placing several rectangular platinum coins on the counter. "Friend Yahlie. This one would humbly wish to drink milkshake. Chocolate."

“Dawwww, he say friend!” Yahlie gushed with a playful bat of her hand in Yatarraks direction. She made her way into the kitchen to prep the shake. “Make Yahlie blush!”

"Surprise me, I want to get fuckin' wasted."

Don lifted an rueful eyebrow. “Surprise ya!?” He laughed. “Well this ought knock your socks off!” He turned around and started searching the glass display cabinet wherein lied a hundred alcoholic treasures from different worlds, “Lessee...” he said to himself as he browsed the bottles. “Where did I put the Happy Jacks...”

“I’d like both the stew and dessert of the day, please,” he said, not knowing what name to address. A not-clawed finger held the coin to the surface of the bar.

Without looking, Don reached and swiped the coin off the counter (it’s a business owner thing. A sort of echolocation for clinking of cash), mumbled “Yup”, and opened the plastic slider in the service window. “EY, BOOMER!” He bellowed into the cacophony of pans and industrial dishwasher that was the kitchen, “A BOWL OF RING-TUM-WHATSIT AND ONE OF YOUR GODAWFUL PIES!”

“Ah’m gonna say this real slow fer yuh, Don!” Snarled a gruff, drawled voice from the bowels of the kitchen. “RING! TUM! DIDDY!”

“YEAH, YEAH, WHATEVAH!” Don slammed the window shut and continued looking for Sabjorns “surprise booze.

Ah, He found it! A bottle of Happy Jacks Undrinkable Ail! Showed a drunken navy man on the picture sailing through the rigging of some tall ship with wings on his heels and a stupid grin on his face while the words ONE MIGHTY SUP WILL PUT WIND IN YOUR SAILS zigged and zagged around the scene like a balloon on the loose. An artistic exaggeration, of course, but from what he had seen, not much of one. He popped open the bottle, took a eye watering, nose hair curling sniff which he instantly regretted and carefully measure the stuff out into a thimble.

"Don, whatever you make me, make it a double."

Aright then, two thimbles.

With a shit eating grin and a chuckle, Don dumped the minuscule measurements of
potent ail into the biggest tankard he could find- for giggles, you know?- and slid it it over to sabjorn. “Aright This it it fellas!” He announced to everyone at the bar, “A double dose Happy Jacks Undrinkable Ail verses the mighty Nord (Uh...what was it?) Sabjorn! Place your bets!” He gave Sabjorn a challenging smirk. “Hey, when your conscious again, tell me how it tastes. If you can remember.”

That oughta make the guys day.

 

[Specialist]

Vasu 'Koromai

Interacting with: N/A (intro post)
​

The world faded into a flash of white as the Zealot stood on the bridge of the CSO-Class Supercarrier. Yet, something felt off as soon as the jump commenced. Before Vasu could react, the world suddenly exploded into gravity, and... pavement. Letting out a surprised roar, the armored alien slammed face-first into the ground as the shields flared a brilliant blue-white; absorbing the brunt of the kinetic impact. Vasu wasn't knocked unconscious, but he was now on high alert and he was pissed. And the first thing he just so happened to see in front of him was a Human building as her turned his head and pushed himself upright with a vicious snarl. Striding toward the door, the seven-foot tall beast awkwardly wrapped his hands around the metallic door frame and pulled. The door groaned in protest as it was pulled open, and as the Sangheili ducked down to enter the building, three visible indentations of the grip the Elite had were indented into the door handle. Th creature looked around, snarled, and spoke fluent English as his mandibles parted with each spoken word in a low, guttural voice.

"What is this place?! I demand an answer!" He didn't show it, but the characters of the establishment caught him off guard. From what he could tell, only some were human. Others seemed to be... Specters. Another species? Humanoids? It didn't matter. Should he not receive an answer from anyone in the building, they will surely meet the wrath of his blade. They had to be responsible for his sudden arrival here.

 

[DovahBeat]

Sabjorn looked at the ale inside the tankard. Really? This was supposed to get him wasted? Eh, he'd still drink it, then ask for more when it proved to be not enough. He had an especially high alcohol tolerance, partly because he was a Nord, and partly because he was a poison based Dragonknight. He had a resistance to all sorts of poisons and venom, alcohol included. He shrugged and downed the drink, instantly feeling it.
"Holy shit, that's strong!" He shook his head to try and clear the sudden haze, but found himself getting dizzy. Oh well. He was still standing--er, sitting-- though!

Then a new face came in, drawing his drunken attention. "'Ey, relax, you're in a good place. Unless you want to get into a bar fight, Milk-Drinker." He grinned at his insult. He always got rowdy when drunk, didn't help that he actually enjoyed bar fights.

 

[MrMopp]

"Holy shit, that's strong!" He shook his head to try and clear the sudden haze, but found himself getting dizzy. Oh well. He was still standing--er, sitting-- though!

“I know, right?” Don chuckled. He held out three fingers. “Hey, how many you see?”

"What is this place?! I demand an answer!"

Dons looked at the angry monster and his smile dropped. “Weeeell crap.”

 

[Viper Actual]

Yatarrak watched with amusement as Sabjorn downed the beverage with relative ease. "Friend Don, this one would suggest finding a stronger recipe. This one would of course be at your service."
Then, when the new arrival fumbled itself though the door, Yatarrak watched. Sangheili. He had dealt with their kind only once or twice. Such dealings had been with hermits of their people, rare cases of lone and secluded craftsmen perfecting weaponry.

It was probably no surprise that some citizens of the known galaxies beckoned for powerful tools of war. What better place to look than a world known for its powerful plasma weaponry and proud warriors?

Yatarrak bowed his head towards Vasu. "Blessings upon you, son of Sanghelios. This one's name is Yatarrak." He gestured towards Don. "That one is Don. Owner of this establishment."

 

[Specialist]

Vasu 'Koromai

Interacting with: Viper Actual
​

Vasu's head snapped toward the individual who said that. Releasing a growling snarl, he stepped further into the establishment as the door closed behind him. Ignoring his own introduction, Vasu growled out in a disbelieving tone. "How do you know of my homeworld. Why am I here." In all honestly, the Zealot could give less of his care to the esteemed 'owner of the establishment'. The being that had addressed himself as 'Yatarrak' clearly knew of Sangheilios, and its race of proud warriors for whicht he Covenant employed. Surely, he must know more.

 

[DovahBeat]

Sabjorn's attention snapped back to Don, making himself extra dizzy with how fast he turned. "Uhhhhh, four? No, three, definitely three." He answered.
Then Vasu stepped in further, grabbing his attention again.
"'Ey, calm down, buddy. Would be a shame if someone got hurt." He reached for the handle of the greatsword on his back, a warning. Even if he would have trouble standing, he would fight if it came to it. He liked this place, and wasn't about to let some newbie dumbass ruin it for him.

 

[MrMopp]

Yatarrak bowed his head towards Vasu. "Blessings upon you, son of Sanghelios. This one's name is Yatarrak." He gestured towards Don. "That one is Don. Owner of this establishment."

Don raised a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t exactly smile. He had a feeling there might be a scuffle and was thinking There goes my uneventful afternoon. He kept his eyes fixed on the guy and his snapping fingers at the ready incase the guy turned out to be armed.

Vasu 'Koromai

Interacting with: Viper Actual
​

Vasu's head snapped toward the individual who said that. Releasing a growling snarl, he stepped further into the establishment as the door closed behind him. Ignoring his own introduction, Vasu growled out in a disbelieving tone. "How do you know of my homeworld. Why am I here." In all honestly, the Zealot could give less of his care to the esteemed 'owner of the establishment'. The being that had addressed himself as 'Yatarrak' clearly knew of Sangheilios, and its race of proud warriors for whicht he Covenant employed. Surely, he must know more.

The whole diner got quiet as a church. Conversations halted, heads popped over booth walls and seat backs, that one redneck cyborg at table #10 stopped stirring his coffee with his 40 mile an hour finger, and even the jukebox shut itself up as the big, imposing alien warrior strode up to interrogate the merchant.

So naturally thats when Yahlie had to barge in, dancing without a clue through the big kitchen doors with a milkshake in one hand and Ruu’s stew in the other. “Milkshake for Sales Guyyyyyyy...!” she sang as he placed the cup in front of Yatarrak, complete with a complimentary straw and tiny umbrella (cause he called her friend! Tee hee!). She slid over to Ruu. “....And stew-stuff for-.“ she stopped dead, spilling a little of the stew on the smoky man, when she felt the angry vibe in the room and turned to see the guy it was coming from. “Oh.”

Don rolled his eyes. “Yup.”

 

[Viper Actual]

Yatarrak clicked with his tongue with the sound reverberating through his helmet. "This one know a great deal of things. Your homeworld is but one of these things. This one is a Reclaimer, much like yourself, yes?" Yatarrak wasn't lying, not entirely that is. He left out the convenient part about him selling the items he procured. "You are in a place between places. Why? Yatarrak cannot say. Some find themselves here by chance, others through intent." The merchant shrugged.

"It matters not to Don. He will provide. If you pay, that is." Yatarrak snickered. "If you lack coin then this one will help...for a favor."

Yatarrak then broke the silence by deploying a thin metallic straw from the bottom of his helmet which was bent, stretched and then unceremoniously shoved into the milkshake which invoked a faint ssshhhhrrrrrrr sound as the content was sucked into one of his many mouths.

"This one would express his gratitude, friend Yahlie."

 

[MrMopp]

(oh, what the heck)

Yahlie totally forgot about the angry jerk for a moment to give a little bashful wiggle. “Awwwww, so princey! You welcome!” She rolled her head towards Don and pointed at Yatarrak. “He gentleman.” She told him, but obviously wanted the whole diner to know.

But Don wasn’t listening. He was giving Yatarrak an exasperated face for his chosen moment of soliciting. “Seriously?” he interjected, turning up a palm. “There’s a time and place for that, Tarr!” Don then turned his atention back to the brute. “Ok, look pall,” he said gruffly. “As far as I see it, If you walked yourself through that door then, my condolences ‘n all, but you being here is your own problem. Don’t like it? Get out.” He took on a softer tone. “OR maybe sit your ass down and tell us what exactly the crisis is. Getcha a drink on the house and everything.”

 

[Specialist]

Vasu 'Koromai

Interacting with: Viper Actual , MrMopp , DovahBeat

​

Vasu reached for his own hilt, but simply snarled at the man who reached for his sword and instead took a step closer to the strange being known as 'Yatarrak'. "I see... A reclaimer? Then certainly you know of our history with the Humans." Vasu said with a venomous undertone; spitting the word out in his speech. He waited for the strange entity to be served before continuing to speak. "Tell me, Reclaimer... do you know of the Prophet's betrayal? What was to come of it?" The Sangheili asked, looking around the room wearily at the occupants. Well, really, it simply just looked as if the massive alien was consistently locked in a devilish snare; incapable of seemingly any other facial expression due to his anatomy. He didn't care what the others would say or do beyond combat, but this entity piqued his interest into dialogue.

 

[Viper Actual]

Yatarrak snickered, ignoring Don's plea. In a way this conversation with Vasu was amusing to him. Almost like trying to outbid a rival. "This one know many things. History is of little importance to Yatarrak. This one search, but this one also collects. This one provides, but this one also expect payment."

"Your Prophets is of very little interest to Yatarrak. Controlling. Warmongering." He sneered. "War is good for business. Crusades are not. Tend to kill potential customers, no? Yatarrak have hard way to care for family without clients." Yatarrak clicked his tongue. "As for your Schism it is difficult to tell. Yatarrak see many versions of the galaxy. Difficult to keep track of. Hard to keep customers. Bad for business, yes? Try to stay in one galaxy at a time when not here, at Don's."

The merchant nodded. "This one could help you get more information, yes? New clients good for business. Friends even better. Perhaps you will tell your brothers about this one?"

 

[MrMopp]

Don rolled his eyes.

 

[DovahBeat]

Sabjorn's interest was piqued at the mention of The Prophet. Did he mean-- no, impossible. It couldn't be The Prophet he knew. He watched for a moment longer before he shook his head and let go of his weapon. This wasn't worth his time.
"Jus' listen t' Don, aight? No need attackin' nobody."
He turned back to lean against the bartop, suddenly feeling jaded and a bit depressed. Fuckin' alcohol, being a depressant. Damn Wars, fucking with his head.

 

[honeylemon]

Ruu
Ronu Kanim
The Diner

Ruu flinches, a swirl of smoke catching the soup. The climbing voices and arguments in the background only add to some instinctual fear as he shrinks into his chair.
He physically begins to “sink” into the smoke, his form changing within the darkness. Ruu remains cloaked in his smoke, opening a small window to see through. He’d need to thank Miss Yahile later.
His smoke snakes along the ground, prepared to throw up a wall if need be; though his magic held no force, it could hide one quite well.

 

[Specialist]

Vasu 'Koromai

Interacting with: MrMopp , Viper Actual
​

Vasu relaxed as the entity spoke, snorting as the entity redirected the Sangheili's inquiry into a paywall. Releasing is grip from his hilt, he lowered his arm back to his side and spoke."I see.. This would not be the first time I was attempted to be bribed for information. You are similar to a Kig-Yar in that respect, Yatarrak. Trust, information and alliances to be bought are foolish. They should be earned." Vasu snarled, before looking to the Human owner, Don, and growling out, "What.. exactly do you have, Human? Seared Colo? Grilled Doarmir?" The question was directed as a bemused challenge by the Zealot. Surely, this establishment only had proven catering to Human-like beings so far.

 

[Viper Actual]

Yatarrak hissed and gestured with his hands as Vasu compared him with the Kig-Yar of all people. "Gah! Kig-Yar bad for business. Pirates firsthand. No honor, no respect. This one have not dealt with them in a long, long time."

He pointed towards Vasu. "Sangheili honorable and fair. Good at trading. Yatarrak likes fair trading. Means good business."

When the Elite spoke of food Yatarrak snickered. "Ask about the one they call 'Boomer.'"