Post by Kyla Monroe on Dec 30, 2012 19:13:39 GMT -5
Though not as old as it's home city, this bar has a history of its very own. Fifty years ago, in the dirty streets of Teporatz, two gangs competed for control of prostitution and gun running in the county. A business man at that time tended to pay two protection fees each month rather than just one, and for it's crime, the city was slowly dieing. A dead end road in the eastern end of the town, Song Street, had become the highlight of gang spats. The Alliance moved in en' force and effectively put a stop to the violence, leaving two gangs a lot of anger, with no firearms. Their story did not end there.
A hot dog stand on Song Street was one of the last legitimate businesses that survived, and perhaps it was the vendors moxy that kept him open. That and his alcohol. One night a fight broke out amongst his patrons right in front of his stand, and rather than call the authorities, the vendor wagered over which he believed would win. The other men matched his wager and in the end, the vendor was the richer man. If you asked him today, he would tell you that was his start. The next two weeks, the two gangs began to come to Song Street to settle their differences, and while it generally stopped at a knockout, their were some bloodier mix-ups. The only thing that shut them down at the nights end was the streetlight that automatically shut off at two am.
After those two weeks, the vendor realized he'd made more money over the fighting and alcohol, than he had being open all day. He stopped selling until after dark, where he began to more or less, create formal matches, with proper bets. This went on for the better part of two years. A local small turbine business on the corner went under, and the vendor bought the building with his income. The fights went from the streets, to his backroom. In the front, it was a respectable bar. Pool tables and the like. In the back, it was a cage match without the cage. The vendor named his bar, 'The Street Song.'
Several years later he had become a silent arena for the backside of the city. Gangs were no longer his only competitors, but any who wanted to take a chance. With so much continuous clientele, he could no longer maintain his allusion of being a simple bar, so the vendor got legitimate permits, and bought a real arena not far from his old bar, and named it "The Bout." In time this too grew, and his popularity grew as all manner of Persephonians would come to watch, bet, and indeed, take part in the fighting. One night in a slower year, the vendor started a last fight special. If a man could win the final bout of the night, he would drink free at The Bout for a month. This was done every friday night. As extra incentive, he extended his bar's inventory as much as he could with his finances. Some loyal patrons helped him in this endeavor.
If his business had been good before, it was now explosive. Every friday night the bar alone would generate enough income to fund the business for a month, and trying to decide a final bout could be downright difficult, as every man who laid claim to the belt, was hard pressed to let go. In time, he opened it up to Friday, Saturday and Sunday final bouts. This move netted the vendor enough profit to make one more expansion. He built a custom arena, with a 'coliseum' feel that could handle any volume. It's name change one last time, to "The Final Bout." It did not have one stage as it's predecessors, but five. And while there were still tables near the middle, there was now also an upper deck with private booths that one can rent for the night. Another feature the vendor added was the famous 'perimeter bar.' A single bar that stretched the circumference of the building. Under the glass counter is a list of every beverage available on the planet, in alphabetical order.
If your looking to drink, watch a fight, make some cash, or just want to knock someones block off, this is your place.
A hot dog stand on Song Street was one of the last legitimate businesses that survived, and perhaps it was the vendors moxy that kept him open. That and his alcohol. One night a fight broke out amongst his patrons right in front of his stand, and rather than call the authorities, the vendor wagered over which he believed would win. The other men matched his wager and in the end, the vendor was the richer man. If you asked him today, he would tell you that was his start. The next two weeks, the two gangs began to come to Song Street to settle their differences, and while it generally stopped at a knockout, their were some bloodier mix-ups. The only thing that shut them down at the nights end was the streetlight that automatically shut off at two am.
After those two weeks, the vendor realized he'd made more money over the fighting and alcohol, than he had being open all day. He stopped selling until after dark, where he began to more or less, create formal matches, with proper bets. This went on for the better part of two years. A local small turbine business on the corner went under, and the vendor bought the building with his income. The fights went from the streets, to his backroom. In the front, it was a respectable bar. Pool tables and the like. In the back, it was a cage match without the cage. The vendor named his bar, 'The Street Song.'
Several years later he had become a silent arena for the backside of the city. Gangs were no longer his only competitors, but any who wanted to take a chance. With so much continuous clientele, he could no longer maintain his allusion of being a simple bar, so the vendor got legitimate permits, and bought a real arena not far from his old bar, and named it "The Bout." In time this too grew, and his popularity grew as all manner of Persephonians would come to watch, bet, and indeed, take part in the fighting. One night in a slower year, the vendor started a last fight special. If a man could win the final bout of the night, he would drink free at The Bout for a month. This was done every friday night. As extra incentive, he extended his bar's inventory as much as he could with his finances. Some loyal patrons helped him in this endeavor.
If his business had been good before, it was now explosive. Every friday night the bar alone would generate enough income to fund the business for a month, and trying to decide a final bout could be downright difficult, as every man who laid claim to the belt, was hard pressed to let go. In time, he opened it up to Friday, Saturday and Sunday final bouts. This move netted the vendor enough profit to make one more expansion. He built a custom arena, with a 'coliseum' feel that could handle any volume. It's name change one last time, to "The Final Bout." It did not have one stage as it's predecessors, but five. And while there were still tables near the middle, there was now also an upper deck with private booths that one can rent for the night. Another feature the vendor added was the famous 'perimeter bar.' A single bar that stretched the circumference of the building. Under the glass counter is a list of every beverage available on the planet, in alphabetical order.
If your looking to drink, watch a fight, make some cash, or just want to knock someones block off, this is your place.
