Within a few days after the show at the Muadhnait Fiachra, Project Thorns is underway.  Harry has gathered up the money from the benefit show, along with donations from a few particularly devoted patrons, and the “gift” from one of Deirdre’s “close associates.”  Deirdre has made her round of phone calls, collecting the loyal fans of the bar who have been avidly awaiting the promised repair project.  She has together some twenty regulars prepared to give it their all, and a similar number of others who’ll be working off and on.

Harry arranges the actual business deals:  the new tables and chairs, the new toilet fixtures, the paint and hammers and nails and miscellaneous supplies.  Along with all the new fixtures and fittings they’re putting in to the place.  It’s just a matter of getting the installment crews in during the days, and Deirdre’s volunteer crew will be coming in at night to work on the more aesthetic matters.

By the middle of the week after the pub show, Harry’s already gotten the toilets installed and the plumbing hooked up, and a few of the speakers are up.  He and Deirdre have knocked heads on the new design for the club, hoping to update it but at the same time keep what they can of the “vintage” feel.  Harry is still particularly pissed about his collection of posters and flyers being spray-painted over during the vandalism.  “Some of those were twenty…thirty years old; they’re classic.  I remember seein’ those shows when I was still in London.  That’s sentimental value there, never mind what price they were on the market,” he gripes one night while going through what remains of them.  He’s letting Deirdre take control of the majority of the creative aspect of the renovations, with his supervision.  He long ago gave up on any real artistic talent of his, and he likes her ideas.  Besides, this is as much her place now as his.

Right now, Harry’s busy nailing in new shelves behind the bar, made of a dark gleaming wood.  He used to work in some construction and renovation back in the day when he was scraping money together, and picking up a hammer turns out much to be like riding a bike.  With the right tools, he’s finding it rather easy to regain his former familiarity with everything.  Yes sir, given them another week – give or take – and the place will be back up and running.  Good as new…almost.  He’s personally hoping to keep some of that careworn atmosphere of the place, which told the story of years of love and devotion.  And they said he wouldn’t make a good family man.  Why, if he treated a family half as good as he treated this bar of is…

Ah, but that ship had sailed years and years ago.  And he’d never really much cared.  Sure every so often there was a little pang that he’d never married, had never fathered children.  Well, no, that probably wasn’t right.  With all the screwing and hellraising he’d done in his youth, there had to be a few little Harry’s running around various parts of Britain and a few other cities along the East Coast.

But no, he never much minded not having children.  That was some people’s things, not his.  Sure he was a loyal friend, and that was probably it – he liked to put his loyalty and devotion where he wanted, not where he felt obligated to.  Like that one kid.  The one who had come in every night, sitting in the corner tapping that coin in the table.  The one who had jumped off that overpass and into the path of an oncoming semi.  He’d never known the kid’s name, but every night he’s put a drink on the little corner table he’d always sit at.  And Harry plans on keeping that tradition with the new bar.

Nah, this place is his child.  Always has been, least for as long as its mattered.  No, second thought, he’d be no good as a family man.  This was enough for him, and quite satisfying it was.

((So any characters who want to get in on this scene are welcome – mortals, Kindred, whatever.  If you have reason to be in contact with the folks at Thorns and would have reasonably heard about this, come on in))

*Leaning in the entrance peering around the establishment is Kyle Lind, noticing the laboring folk inside.*

"OI!, Who's in charge here?, Deidre told me about this place thought I could offer an extra set of hands."

(OOC: I assume its still under construction)  

--Last edited by Kyle Lind on 2008-09-07 06:13:09 --

The front of the building is in perfect repair, at least as "perfect" as any old building in the slums.  Though the front sign has been removed to be replaced by a new one.  The new door has been installed, and leads down a set of steep concrete steps to the club below.

The middle of the floor is cleared of tables, stools, and chairs.  Boards of wood, buckets of paint, brushes, hammers, nails, screwdrivers the whole like are scattered about the floor.

Currently Deirdre is in the process of directing some of the volunteers in scrubbing off the spraypaint.

As she hears the shout from up top the stairs she turns around and calls out "Aye, c'mon down here.  Th' party's jus' started."  

--Last edited by Tara532 on 2008-09-08 11:48:32 --

Slater come with a small army of street kids. He has all the squater from his land giving a hand to help save the music. " Hey boys get to work." You see that Slater knows most of local underground art scene and they begin to paint. "Hey Harry and Deirdre you mind giving them some creative freedom and let them go wild."

"Friends of yours?" Harry nods to Deirdre and asks as he sees Slater and his massive unorganized crew wander in.  When the giant punk makes mention of "artistic license" Harry casts Deirdre a worried look.  "Better get 'em something constructive to do...I don't want my club lookin' like some easter egg."  Granted, the cans of paint are mostly in dark shades of black, grey, and some white.  No pastel greens or pinks or anything too dangerous.

Deirdre diverts herself from her own task when Slater walks down with his veritable gang of followers.  "Well, fer righ' now we're jus' strippin' the spraypaint off th' walls.  Then we'll be paintin' 'em o'er.  Nothin' fancy mind ye, though we do have a special design fer 'round the stage.  If any o' yer folk can use a hammer 'n' nails we need some folks to help put in some lightin' fixtures."

"well before you shot my guys down here at least look at their design and it would fit on the left wall." He pull out a the plan.


http://i42.photobucket.com/albums/e343/nalzalk/ThroughTheThornsTmp18.jpg


We can change background to a deep blue if you want.  

--Last edited by Matthew Slater on 2008-09-08 13:57:30 --

"Oh yeah, i  have gift for the thorns. Fucking A I work my ass off on these" He digs through his bag and pull out two fabric wrap rod. He hand one to Harry and one to Deirdre. "this clubs has done so much for music in this city and allow people refuge from this fucking hell hole. I just wanted to give you my thanks personally as a preformer and an artist."

You guys unwrap two black onyx rose taps. The taps are about foot and half tall and  two and half inch thick base but 4 inch rose bud .  


Slater rolls 7 dice to stone shaping rose (used willpower)
6,9,6,7,10, 1,7 (6 successes)

They are identical to roses in every way and when you look at them they give a sign of life.


"I thought the bar could use a little more flare and i think that these will do the job. I just hope you keep on allowing te punk band to come trough your club."  

--Last edited by Matthew Slater on 2008-09-08 14:49:54 --

Deirdre unfolds the plans for the design and strokes her chin.  "Hmmm...actually, we were thinkin' 'bout puttin' a design 'round the stage.  Like borderin' the stage with a thorny vine.  But, I like the looks o' this.  Mightin' we put this as the border 'round the stage.  We'd have to figger a background color...aye maybe a dark blue o' some sort, kinda a slate color."  She looks up at the ceiling, contemptlating.  Or, we could put it all 'round the ceiling...like the Sistine Chapel 'r somethin'."

"my boys can handle any terain they been taging for ever just let us shine." a group of 10 have started to help with building and base painting. They are keeping busy with work but their are a group 5 with back pack of spray paint ready to go on slater order.

Deirdre walks around the place, hands in her pockets, gazing up at the ceiling.  The more she thinks about it, the more she thinks she likes the idea of a ceiling mural with the thorn design.  Maybe painting the thorns in a dark burgundy-blood red, against a black background.  With a few tendrils starting to creep down the wall.  Yes, that would look quite striking, especially with the new light fixtures.  In her mind's eyes she can see the mural extending, growing organically almost as it spreads over the ceiling in a spikey lattice of briars.  Like the wall of thorns the evil witch erected to surround Sleeping Beauty's castle.

She's so absorbed in her imaginings, she doesn't notice Slater revealing the gorgeous handmade taps.

(OOC: time wise I'll assume that Kyle is showing up after Slater and did not see him and crew enter Thorns)

*Kyle comes bouncin down the stairs with a playful look in his eyes*

"oh my.."

*Kyle mutters to himself with a wide eyed look around the place and spots Slater*

"Holly shit!, who let this art fag out of the asylum"

*Kyle blurts this out and walks up and pats him on the back and notices the spacy Deidre staring at the ceiling and joins here*

"Howdy Deidre nice place hey Slate' you guys plannin on something for this ceiling"

*and yells out to Harry or Deidre mostly whoever's in earshot*

"I'm no artist but i can use a saw and hammer just point and shoot this aint my first rodeo."  

--Last edited by Kyle Lind on 2008-09-09 09:43:33 --

Harry chuckles to himself as Slater unveils the taps.  "Well I'll be damned," he says.  "That's some nice work."  He takes the taps, hefting their weight.  "These're gorgeous.  They'll be just the thing to give a little bit of class to the place."  

He glances up at the ceiling as Deirdre makes mention of the mural.  "Actually, I think that would look rather nice.  We're already planning on putting some art or something in...still figuring out the particulars on that."

Slater first look at Kyle, "Hey phish is not playing you fucking mud hippy and we don't want buy any of your jewerly. ohh it just kyle.I thought i smell Patchouli Oil." he start to laugh really hard.

He turn  to 5 guys and give a thumbs ups and they began to pull out scalfing equipment from a van. They start to set up for a long night, "take your time boys no cops here to rush your passion.He look back at harry, "if your looking for local art i can see what i can pull up from the beating heart of the streets." He shrug as he began to give order to his men.

"HA!"

*Kyle gives Slater a little shove with his elbow, its obvious these two know each other form way back*

"Be careful who you call a hippie, ja ol' dirteh bastad"

*Kyle tries to make himself useful with the putting together of the scaffolding*

Deirdre turns from her daydream as Slater and Kyle spar with their insults.  She can tell enough that it's only a playful exchange, like brothers and their sibling rivalry.  

"So I take it you two know each other," she says, walking back to the pair.

"Well," she says to Slater after his comment about the artwork, "we still havent' figured what we're doing.  We're thinking about putting some of the old posters in cases and placing them around.  And maybe getting some large black-and-white photo prints.  I don't know, we're still on the fence about that."

"i would just put the word out and see what the people can create you never know what can be made if we just believe in each other and more imporatantly the city. you guys hold up local band so it only make since to show local art. i've scene alot people overlook in this city beacuse no one would give them a chance."

he points to kyle, "Hey that my good friend kyle. He just got back into town." he look at him as he help build the base, "Hey chode introduce yourself to the striking Lady."

Deirdre chuckles.  "Actually, we've already been introduced.  We met at court."  Yup, she definitely detects a bit of rivalry here.  Like watching two boys on the playground.  Slater is definitely the alpha-dog, Kyle the whipping boy he needs to use to assert his authority.  

"I understand ye're enthusiasm fer helpin' out, an' it's greatly appreciated," she says to Slater.  "Howe'er," she tries to say lightly enough, "this is Harry's bar...an' me own.  I appreciate yer suggestions, but let us make th' plannin'.  We're jus' lookin' fer somethin' simple.  We d'nae need anythin' too fancy."  

--Last edited by Tara532 on 2008-09-09 20:25:46 --

"hey there no such thing as a bad idea and i just thought i trow couple out there for you guy to bite. I know use guys place and i respect that." He shrug his shoulder and then hand a couple can of spray paint up to the boys.

*Kyle saunters past Deidre and Slater on his way to introduce himself to Harry.  On his way by he leans into their conversation and nudges Slater, and says to Deidre.*

"pfft... all this guy needs is a beer enema to clean his brain out, ha ha!"
" 'olly crap!  Nice work on these taps Slate'."  

"Howdy, you Harry? I'm Kyle Lind brief acquaintance of Deidre and ol' friend of Slater"