Thunder Dome

Finding himself in a bar, Molly settles into his beer with a slight cringe. They literally let anyone in here apparently, no one even accosted him at the doors. Rai was right, this world was really fuckin weird. As per usual reaver fashion, he was unaware of how out of place he looked as off-white linen shorts and a loose fitting set of lace front trousers weren’t really the peak of couture for going to a bar. Tack on the heavy head of ram’s horns and black markings peeking just above his shirt collar and he really did not seem to belong here at all.

He was in minor shock that the place was this clean, no dirt, no ladies of the night, or at least not obviously so, a cool game with little stone balls and sticks that made really interesting noises that he spent more time than he cared to admit trying to figure out how it worked but no luck. Apparently some balls you weren’t supposed to hit and some you were. With a sigh and a second beer he hops up and decides to try his hand at it, taking a stick and jumping into a game with some large beared biker,  who at least was trying to be understanding in the fact that somehow a grown man had never seen a game of pool before. Sadly one very badly played game of pool was enough for the biker as apparently being able to discern colors was a prerequisite to the game.

Strange world in deed. "Stupid game anyway" The grouchy bastard mumbles into his beer as he plops himself back into a barstool.