The Cirrus Cartel

Nimbaterra Cartel

Written by Lunati

On a floating isle in the sky, the isle of Nimbaterra sits in the clouds, home to Club Nimbus. It's a pleasure palace of parties, fun, joy, love, sex, drugs and occasional bad decisions.

Late at night, after all the party goers have headed off and the bar has closed, a worn out tigress with blue stripes on white fur is wiping down tables, making sure everything is set for when things start up again. A smaller rodent with blue polkadots and blue hair on white fur, just a head shorter than the tigress, works on sweeping up and picking up fun items left from before. A gryphon with a purple vest and a bright green mohawk, standing behind the bar, wipes down the counters, and is checking the till for the night, making sure he balances out.

The tigress, Tacoma, grumbles back, "Do you really see us cleaning tables in the bar? I would think we'd hire work for that, and do more important stuff like constructing areas, and hiring people to do the grunt work. We're getting way too busy to be doing this ourselves."

Lunati, the blue spotted mouse, lets out a sigh back, "Well it's not like we can do much right now, we can either keep at this or hire out of our customers. Pretty much everyone who comes through here is looking for a party, some medication or fun on the side." She closes her eyes, and pinches her nose, "We could post help wanted ads or something. Asking the harpies might work out, but if things go sideways we'll find our front lawn covered in harpy shit, and I'd rather not deal with that right now." She shudders at the thought, looking a bit nauseated.

"We really don't have many good options. Poor Ruby at the front door can't really do anything, we're getting too damn busy and she isn't a bouncer!" Tacoma growls, kicking at a gold piece that some prankster glued to the floor. "I really don't want to deal with this now," irritation seeping into her voice.

The two spoke back and forth, going over all the options they could think of, each getting more and more resigned as time went on. Lunati fretted, worry seeping into her voice as the bar was cleaned. Tacoma clearly was getting upset, a note of pain seeping into her voice. Each option was considered and discarded, problems found as they were picked over. Of the species on Nimbaterra, each had their own unique problems, not fit for the job of helping run the club. Otters? Feral and frisky, too much trouble and not intimidating for the bouncers. Great cats? Too few, and no opposible thumbs. Pygmy Gryphs? Again, not enough of them, although a few might want to join the staff. Aside from a handful of stragglers of various species, they were understaffed, and they had no pool of potential recruits to take on, or the contacts for it. Without it, either they would have to stop farming opium, which Tacoma needed to help with pain, or drop the club.

Irritated by the bickering, Skye had retreated to the back, working on checking the stock, and seeing if anything had started to go bad. He rummaged through the larder, enjoying the quiet and peace that came with it as he chucked spoiled food, or what soon might spoil, so everything was safe to eat. It was a relaxing job for him and let him recharge away from the customers. Lately, though, something was bothering him. They were shortstaffed, and the upset and anger was totally justified from his bosses. Lunati had enough on her plate keeping the books alone, and making sure the club was running smoothly. Tacoma minded the poppy farm and the gardens, making sure the place was well maintained. They did most of the cleaning themselves, but the club was becoming a popular destination, and they couldn't keep up with the workload as it was, especially if things kept expanding. They needed more help, and the typical club goers occasionally had an interest in staying for longer and working, few could uproot their lives and move to Nimbaterra to join the staff.

Paging through his memory, there was his old drinking buddy, Biaggio Blacktalon. The two hadn't spoken in years, but with the way things were going, getting in touch might not be a bad idea. Depending on how his crew was doing, he would be a good source to at least point in the right direction to get some good talent and bodies to help with the club. After wrapping up and finishing his nightly cleanup, Skye headed out to rejoin Tacoma and Lunati, who were nearly done cleaning up for the night.

"So, I think I might have someone." Skye hinted with a bit of a smirk in his voice.

"Oh?", Lunati and Tacoma spoke in unison, both all ears.

"I had an old drinking buddy before I headed out here, Biaggio Blacktalon, who runs a dock crew back home. He pretty much always knows folks looking for work, and probably could point us in the right direction. I could get in touch, write some letters and see if I could get him on board, or at least see if there's anyone that he knows that could hook us up right." Skye filled in.

"You said old drinking buddy, are you sure he'd help you out here? You've been with us a couple years, he might have moved on by now." Lunati asked, pessimism leaking into her voice. "And what kind of connections does this guy have? Are you sure he wouldn't just unload his problems onto us?"

Tacoma nodded, agreeing with her wife, and buisness partner.

Skye smirked, chuckling a bit, "Big isn't that sort, nothing would irritate him more than a job gone bad, he'd make sure it was done right, even if things went south partway through. Also, he was a good friend. I know he'd help me out, and he won't just send a bunch of layabouts to take them off his hands. I'd give him a visit and throttle him myself if he pulled that kind of bullcrap with me."

Lunati clipped back, "Alright, we'll give you a chance. Write this guy, see what you can find out, and hopefully this helps. Still keep an eye out on anyone who passes by your bar for new hires as usual, hopefully it will be enough to cover in the meantime even though we've only managed to find a couple that way this year."

End of Part 1.