Akumart
Avid Affiliate
- Joined
- Apr 8, 2011
Ryona City: The Wayward Ewe
A heavy sleet of rain fell upon Ryona City... covering its high buildings and maze-like streets with its cold relief to the usual hot and humid days. Several people rushed through the rain’s rage, trying to find cover from it before they were fully drenched. Streaks of lightning streamed through the skies, illuminating it through the dark rain clouds only to be followed by loud, rumbling thunder. Some found it refreshing... others troublesome... Each their own thread of thought... each free to think as they wish. One could say that the rain was a good thing... being able to clean the city of its filth, but in the end—one has to ask if anything was cleaned at all... are those who cause chaos and ruin unto it truly cleansed by something as simple as rain, one can only be so wishful and idealistic... much like those who are torn in the crossfire of all these chaos.
The Wayward Ewe... a restaurant found in one of the inner downtown parts of Ryona City, despite its name, is actually one of those family restaurants who operate to serve good food for people at low prices (relatively). It has been established since the time that the gangs ruled the streets of America, serving to some of the most notorious mafia dons and their lackeys. There are even some portraits displayed within the shop that shows the first owner of the shop, Ewe Drawyaw, a Russian conscript during the Russian Civil War, hanging out with Al Capone and Pasqualino Lolordo right after the owner perfected the former’s request for some impromptu preparation of Capone’s favorite Spaghetti with Walnut sauce. He also had the honor of serving Charlie Luciano—after the known father of the modern organized crime searched far and wide around the state for someone who could cook his favorite childhood dish, Kosher Green Pickles. Drawyaw was able to provide the mafia world icon with one due to his mother also cooking the said snack for him when he was a lad. The restaurant from then on would have a lot of history behind it—forging it to the strong establishment that it was now. (And had a good history of being destroyed and rebuilt from its establishment on 1927 up to the current year of 2015. To date, the Wayward Ewe as been destroyed at least 125 times since then.)
Cyrille took a deep sigh then placed the small handbook containing the history of the shop in the front pocket of her apron and took out her large cleaver... mercilessly slicing the head of a naked chicken then moving the head aside and continued to clean and prepare the chicken to be grilled to perfection later when the order surge comes. She looked at the wall clock and saw that she had enough time to prepare most of the ingredients needed herself, no need to wait for the prep cooks to come back. “Those novices are always late.” She complained to herself—the call time being 5:00 am in the morning and it was already a good fifteen minutes after five. She gave an exasperated sigh deeming it hard to get good help nowadays and began rinsing the chicken properly before drenching it in a special marinade. She took a pen from her pocket then hurled it at a small radio in the side of the cookline counter. The pen coursed through the kitchen then struck the radio’s switch, turning it on. The news blared out as Cyrille busied herself with preparing some shrimp this time, deveining it completely in preparation for one of their bestsellers, Shrimp Gambas de Espaniolle. Her ears pricked up a bit as she heard some news about more chaos ensuing in the city, something about an insane clown attacking some bodyguards from Watcher Inc. She took a deep breath, finishing up on her task and cleaning up the shrimp, placing them on a bowl afterwards, prepared to be used for a meal. “Hm, seems they’re at it again—and here I thought this damnable city would finally get its peace.” She said to herself, wiping her hands with a clean rag and smiling a bit—seeing the entire cooking line and the sink, no, the entire kitchen sparkling clean and all the would be necessary ingredients already prepared without fail. “There, spotless and all prepared~” She said with a content nod then walked to the radio, and changed the station to something that didn’t speak about the city burning itself down. She also busied herself with thinking of an appropriate punishment for the late prep cooks, forcing her to do all the work by herself—mayhaps letting them deliver the food on foot might be appropriate... since the current delivery guy is out sick. “Hm?” She glanced slightly at the service crew entrance at one side of the kitchen, the doorknob rumbling open.
Cyrille expected that one of the crew decided to come around sometime before the opening of the store... but she was surprised to see a strangely dressed woman entering her shop... it was one of those Harleyz that were mentioned in the news so much. Cyrille remained calm and unfazed, despite the Harleyz holding a sawn-off shotgun with one hand as she entered the restaurant and looked around. “Hellooo~ Is anyone there~?” The Harleyz said in a sing-song tone then grinned widely as she saw the lone female cook, not noticing any guards or anybody else for the matter—deeming that this would be an easy catch. “Hey, toots—give me something to eat, pronto!” The Harleyz said, snapping her fingers at the cook as her gun was aimed for Cyrille. “And don’t try anything stupid-like—” The Harleyz said, pounding her own chest. “I’m bulletproof all over~” Cyrille looked at the Harleyz silently then shook her head. “Sorry, the Ewe’s still closed up.... come back at seven.” The cook responded in a calm manner. For an intense moment, the cook and the murderous clown looked at each other—their eyes meeting each others as one’s hand was on a sawed off shotgun, excellent for close ranged scrapes and the other atop a large kitchen cleaver, good for slicing through thick meat—both of them ready for the worst.
The Harleyz eyes widened then shook her head in disappointment. “What, no way! I thought this place was 24/7?” She reasoned out then the cook nodded. “We’re supposed to be but we’ve put up a sign that we’ll still be closed now, although we’ll be happy to serve you when we open.” The Harleyz gave out a groan then shrugged her shoulders. “Whatevez—I’ll just come around later on... geez, to think that we’d actually get free meals in this business. Being badass criminals and all, amIrite?” The Harleyz gave a slight wave with her sawed off shotgun before turning around and leaving the shop, still brandishing her weapon loosely... though fortunately, the clown left without shooting anyone or trying to kill random people this time around. “For a moment there—” The cook said as she took the cleaver from atop the counter and loosely twirled it around her fingers as her eyes still trailed the Harleyz as the clown went to its merry-mad way. “—I thought I actually had to mess up the kitchen.” Cyrille gave a smile then chopped down the cleaver, burying it deep against a thick, wooden chopping board. Then the front door bell rang as several overly familiar faces entered the restaurant, judging by their footsteps and hushed conversation—they were the supposed to be early prep cooks. “Well, I guess I spoke too soon.” The cook said with a smirk upon her lips.
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(End of Story, ze.)
BGM (Yesh, because I'm epic, ze.): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byYxWKdKrNU
Side Notes
-Facts may or may not be historically accurate, ze.
-Niet on the drawings yet, ze. My PC's down, ze. (I might follow up with it though)
-Address any other questions to me directly, ze.
-And enjoy, ze~ ;3
A heavy sleet of rain fell upon Ryona City... covering its high buildings and maze-like streets with its cold relief to the usual hot and humid days. Several people rushed through the rain’s rage, trying to find cover from it before they were fully drenched. Streaks of lightning streamed through the skies, illuminating it through the dark rain clouds only to be followed by loud, rumbling thunder. Some found it refreshing... others troublesome... Each their own thread of thought... each free to think as they wish. One could say that the rain was a good thing... being able to clean the city of its filth, but in the end—one has to ask if anything was cleaned at all... are those who cause chaos and ruin unto it truly cleansed by something as simple as rain, one can only be so wishful and idealistic... much like those who are torn in the crossfire of all these chaos.
The Wayward Ewe... a restaurant found in one of the inner downtown parts of Ryona City, despite its name, is actually one of those family restaurants who operate to serve good food for people at low prices (relatively). It has been established since the time that the gangs ruled the streets of America, serving to some of the most notorious mafia dons and their lackeys. There are even some portraits displayed within the shop that shows the first owner of the shop, Ewe Drawyaw, a Russian conscript during the Russian Civil War, hanging out with Al Capone and Pasqualino Lolordo right after the owner perfected the former’s request for some impromptu preparation of Capone’s favorite Spaghetti with Walnut sauce. He also had the honor of serving Charlie Luciano—after the known father of the modern organized crime searched far and wide around the state for someone who could cook his favorite childhood dish, Kosher Green Pickles. Drawyaw was able to provide the mafia world icon with one due to his mother also cooking the said snack for him when he was a lad. The restaurant from then on would have a lot of history behind it—forging it to the strong establishment that it was now. (And had a good history of being destroyed and rebuilt from its establishment on 1927 up to the current year of 2015. To date, the Wayward Ewe as been destroyed at least 125 times since then.)
Cyrille took a deep sigh then placed the small handbook containing the history of the shop in the front pocket of her apron and took out her large cleaver... mercilessly slicing the head of a naked chicken then moving the head aside and continued to clean and prepare the chicken to be grilled to perfection later when the order surge comes. She looked at the wall clock and saw that she had enough time to prepare most of the ingredients needed herself, no need to wait for the prep cooks to come back. “Those novices are always late.” She complained to herself—the call time being 5:00 am in the morning and it was already a good fifteen minutes after five. She gave an exasperated sigh deeming it hard to get good help nowadays and began rinsing the chicken properly before drenching it in a special marinade. She took a pen from her pocket then hurled it at a small radio in the side of the cookline counter. The pen coursed through the kitchen then struck the radio’s switch, turning it on. The news blared out as Cyrille busied herself with preparing some shrimp this time, deveining it completely in preparation for one of their bestsellers, Shrimp Gambas de Espaniolle. Her ears pricked up a bit as she heard some news about more chaos ensuing in the city, something about an insane clown attacking some bodyguards from Watcher Inc. She took a deep breath, finishing up on her task and cleaning up the shrimp, placing them on a bowl afterwards, prepared to be used for a meal. “Hm, seems they’re at it again—and here I thought this damnable city would finally get its peace.” She said to herself, wiping her hands with a clean rag and smiling a bit—seeing the entire cooking line and the sink, no, the entire kitchen sparkling clean and all the would be necessary ingredients already prepared without fail. “There, spotless and all prepared~” She said with a content nod then walked to the radio, and changed the station to something that didn’t speak about the city burning itself down. She also busied herself with thinking of an appropriate punishment for the late prep cooks, forcing her to do all the work by herself—mayhaps letting them deliver the food on foot might be appropriate... since the current delivery guy is out sick. “Hm?” She glanced slightly at the service crew entrance at one side of the kitchen, the doorknob rumbling open.
Cyrille expected that one of the crew decided to come around sometime before the opening of the store... but she was surprised to see a strangely dressed woman entering her shop... it was one of those Harleyz that were mentioned in the news so much. Cyrille remained calm and unfazed, despite the Harleyz holding a sawn-off shotgun with one hand as she entered the restaurant and looked around. “Hellooo~ Is anyone there~?” The Harleyz said in a sing-song tone then grinned widely as she saw the lone female cook, not noticing any guards or anybody else for the matter—deeming that this would be an easy catch. “Hey, toots—give me something to eat, pronto!” The Harleyz said, snapping her fingers at the cook as her gun was aimed for Cyrille. “And don’t try anything stupid-like—” The Harleyz said, pounding her own chest. “I’m bulletproof all over~” Cyrille looked at the Harleyz silently then shook her head. “Sorry, the Ewe’s still closed up.... come back at seven.” The cook responded in a calm manner. For an intense moment, the cook and the murderous clown looked at each other—their eyes meeting each others as one’s hand was on a sawed off shotgun, excellent for close ranged scrapes and the other atop a large kitchen cleaver, good for slicing through thick meat—both of them ready for the worst.
The Harleyz eyes widened then shook her head in disappointment. “What, no way! I thought this place was 24/7?” She reasoned out then the cook nodded. “We’re supposed to be but we’ve put up a sign that we’ll still be closed now, although we’ll be happy to serve you when we open.” The Harleyz gave out a groan then shrugged her shoulders. “Whatevez—I’ll just come around later on... geez, to think that we’d actually get free meals in this business. Being badass criminals and all, amIrite?” The Harleyz gave a slight wave with her sawed off shotgun before turning around and leaving the shop, still brandishing her weapon loosely... though fortunately, the clown left without shooting anyone or trying to kill random people this time around. “For a moment there—” The cook said as she took the cleaver from atop the counter and loosely twirled it around her fingers as her eyes still trailed the Harleyz as the clown went to its merry-mad way. “—I thought I actually had to mess up the kitchen.” Cyrille gave a smile then chopped down the cleaver, burying it deep against a thick, wooden chopping board. Then the front door bell rang as several overly familiar faces entered the restaurant, judging by their footsteps and hushed conversation—they were the supposed to be early prep cooks. “Well, I guess I spoke too soon.” The cook said with a smirk upon her lips.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(End of Story, ze.)
BGM (Yesh, because I'm epic, ze.): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byYxWKdKrNU
Side Notes
-Facts may or may not be historically accurate, ze.
-Niet on the drawings yet, ze. My PC's down, ze. (I might follow up with it though)
-Address any other questions to me directly, ze.
-And enjoy, ze~ ;3
