What I'm interested in:
- MUSH - Gunfight!
Main Saloon - Phoenix Inn - Vertaintown
A large room, yet somehow still cozy, a high roof held up by thick oak beams. At the far end, a cheery fire rages in the grate, and a few chairs surround a table by it. Several more tables line the walls, with a long table, seating eight or maybe more, down the middle. There are also three or four stools at the bar, and another beside the bar, where Maera can often be found seated. Behind the bar, as well as rows of casks and bottles, there's a kettle of hot spiced cider, its smell pleasant and welcoming. To the right of the bar, a flight of stairs climbs up to the inn's guest rooms. The decoration in here is plain, and somehow cozy and welcoming, rather than extravagant and ornate. At the edge of the bar rests a large book. It appears to be a registrar in which to sign for a room.
Contents:Leyira, People: Halft, Melody, Leyira, Elissa, Sionell, Ravenne, Sterling, Jocobus, Sidana, Marcel
STERLING
A brownish complexion accompanied by greasy black hair and beady black eyes on a round face define Sterling's basic appearance, the most remarkable thing about his Mexican visage being the gruesome X melted across it.
Mostly covered in dust, he wears standard outlaw regalia. Thick leather chaps over denim trousers, a colorful homespun poncho over a faded red cotton shirt, and a wide-brimmed sombrero full of bullet holes, to keep the sun out of his face.
Twin gunbelts cross Sterling's waist, each sporting a Colt six-shooter with mother-of-pear inlayed handles. A bandaleer of bullets drapes across his chest.
ELISSA
Only a little older than eighteen years, the young matron Elissa is possessed of quiet dignity. The auburn hair, so dark as to almost be brown, sets off her pink, glowing skin and clear grey-green eyes. When she blushes, rarely nowdays, her cheeks turn a soft red and the color works its way down. Her heart shaped face lights up when she smiles, and Elissa often speaks with a gentle melodic voice.
Twisted up atop her head in a modest bun, the length of Elissa's hair is hard to determine, though short whisps and curls fall about her ears and along the nape of her neck. The linen shirtwaist is high-collared, pinned beneath her chin with an ivroy cameo, and a row of ivory buttons runs down the front. Her simple skirt is made from a soft green calico, and it falls from her hips, over rustling petticoats, to just past her ankles, as is proper. Just teh tips of her best leather boots are visible when she walks and her purse hangs from the crook of her left arm.
RAVEENE
A dusty black Stetson shades a halfbreed's slant-eyed gaze; only one of the contrasts that make up this woman's apparel. In fact, it isn't immediately apparent that she's a woman. Her tall, lean frame is clad in denim and leather, snakeskin and Indian beads. Her hair, plaited in a single black braid, is adorned with two raven's feathers proclaiming her heritage. Yet her bronzed skin is just light enough to prove that heritage mixed. She walks with a man's swagger, sporting a six-gun belted low on her hip, and her tread is accompanied by the jingle of spurs.
JOCOBUS
Two cold, pale blue eyes stare out at the world. They rest in a tanned, rugged face, graced with high cheekbones and chisled, stern features. The broad, handsome face is marked, however, with a series of paled scars. The most prominent of these is a bullet graze that traverses the diagonal of the man's countenace from chin to eyebrow, narrowly costing the man his left eye. One ear his no longer of this world, have been neatly severed long ago. Blond hair spills freely to this man's shoulder, caught only in a series of braids scattered randomly through the gentleman's mane. Around his throat, a black cord circles, descending down under his shirt.
A shirt of deep blue covers the man's large torso, somewhat worn but very neatly kept. A pair of black trousersbandaleer crosses the thick garment, carrying a supply of shotgun shells within easy reach. Black worn trousers, still well kept for their age, cover his long legs, ending in the obligatory leather boots and spurs. Over this, a long black trenchcoat tries in vain to keep the dust and weather from the figure. As protection from the sun, a black cowboy hat is pulled somewhat over the figure's eyes.
Seems like everyone in the Wild West is armed, even small children. This one is no different. A double-barreled shotgun usually rests in a casual grip, about half as long as this man's 6'6" frame. And what's a cowboy/bandit/average townsperson without his six-shooter? This one hangs from the man's right hip, nestled in a holster. Ammunition encirlces his waist with the firearm.
IN
Tall, burly and foreboding. Those three words can best sum up this large wood crafter, though wether he is truly as foreboding as he looks remains to be known for certain.
He is certainly tall, standing at approximately 6 feet 5 inches, with wide bulky shoulders and a heavily muscled frame all around. The only exception to this appears to be his abdomen, which displys a paunch, as if the home cooking has been good to him... but not too much overly so. His hair is dark, shot through with gray, and his skin carries an olive complexion to it. Most times there will be a fine sheen of sweat to his brow, especially if he has been working. His lively green eyes seem to almost dance with a hidden smile, and are constantly in motion, attempting to take in everything about them.
He currently wears a brown woolen tunic, woolen trousers, and a sturdy pair of boots, though well worn. He carries no sort of visible weapon, but tucked into the wide leather belt that circles his middle, is a small block of wood and a small matching carving knife.
Sterling turns away from the bar, toward Mad Ellie. He hoists up his pants, gripping them by the gunbelts, and puffs up his chest. "I'm in," he replies laconically, and jingles his bow-legged way across the saloon.
Ravenne jerks out the chair across from Sionell, turns it round, and settles into it with her arms draped across its back. "What are we playin' for?" she asks.
It takes Jocobus a minute to realize that, yes, Leyira is speaking to him. A blink, and the man nods. A silver dollar on the bar. "Marcel. I believe you heard the lady there."
Melody makes a moue of her lips and bats her eyelashes, then drawls "What's happening fellas?"
Elissa opens up her satchel and looks in it's depths, hand fishing about fro soemthing.
Sidana stands and leaves the shadowed table under the stairs.
Moving silently as most her kind to, the indian maid approches the card players.
Ever quiet and polite, Halft siddles over near Sterling. A quick flick of his wrist reveils his tape measure. He quietly gets the measure of Sterling's height and shoulder width.
Sionell lowers her boots to the floor and continues to shuffle, and licks her dusty lips deviously, "The usual, Rav..the usual." her eyes glitter dangerously. She glances up at Sterling and grins.
From afar, Sterling laughs! What're ya measuring me for?
You paged Sterling with 'You'll see...'.
Sidana gestures and speaks in broken english. "this game....not unknown to me."
Melody sauntrs over to the card-players and smiles.. "Do you mind if I sit in on a had or two?"
Sterling sits down at the cosy table by the fire.
Rubin saunters into the saloon, spurs jingling oon the rough hewn planks. 'Barkeep! Whiskey!'
Halft leans to murmur a soft question in Sterling's ear. "Velvet or satin lining, sir?"
Elissa lifts out a letter and hands it to Marcel. "for Miss Maera, if you'll give it to her when she returns?"
Sidana moves away again as the other female expresses an interest in the game.
Sterling looks up at Halft, a bewhildered look on his face, before he suddenly realizes he's speaking to the town grave digger. "Whal, ol' Carlos Halft! Havena seen you around here in a while!" Meanwhile, he plops himself down into a chair at Mad Ellie's table.
Sionell glances up at the frilly woman and snorts irritably, "If you feel like loosin' a finger or two.. sure." her eyes glimmer dangerously at Melody, "Care to make that kinda bet?"
You say "I've been ... digging... into my work. Do you like cherry wood, or oak?"
Leyira drinks deeply from her sasparilla and smiles, "Thanks, I shore was thirsty. Don't suppose you could front me into that game over there by the fire, do ya, handsome?" She lets loose with a fancy set of smoke rings.
Elissa smiles softly at Marcel's murmured assent. "I thank you. Tell her..." She murmurs. "no.she knows." The lady picks up her gloves and purse, but the purse string slips form her fingers and falls from the bar top to teh floor with a loud thump from something inside it.
Ravenne's lips twist in a smile, but that's as close as it comes to humor. "Now Ellie. Don't be scarin' everyone off with your talk. Deal 'em in, an' we'll play nice. Hmm?"
Melody hmms softly, her eyes lidding for a moment. "No.. if you aren't playing for money.. well.. what's the point?"
Jocobus chuckles deeply, reaching into his coat. "I don'tsee why not, ma'am. Yer good for it." The gunman pulls out several silver dollars, and a few golds pieces as well. They end up in Leyira's possession.
Elissa ohs, and she pauses to slip on her gloves before bending down to pick the purse up.
Sterling chuckles at Halft. "Now Halft, you know I can't afford me a coffin. Jes' you let me win some here at poker, then we'll talk." He glances over at Sionell, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "Y'all know them folks up at the Bloodstone Ranch have too much gold on their hands."
Sionell glowers at Ravenne and frowns, "Fine.. we play for cash then. You always were a yellow skin, woman." she sets the cards on the table. And waits for Sterling to cut then, "Ante is a half dollar!" she barks and looks about to whoever plans to join in.
Leyira sidles some, over to the gaming table. "Howldy, folks. Mind if I sit in?"
Melody folds her parasol and sits, smiling around the table..
You paged Sterling with 'this is like a costume party'.
[Darkwood] Elissa giggles madly...
Sterling pages: I know. :) It's fun.
Sidana watches the shuffling with some interest.
[Darkwood] Halft says, "Hey, what are you doing off the ranch, 'lissa?"
Rubin ips his hat to Elissa. 'Evenin' Ma'am.'
Melody pulls a coin out of her purse and tosses it on the table.
Rubin sits down at the shadowed table under the stairs.
Marcel nods as he takes Rubin's order, soon setting his whiskey down before him.
Ravenne shrugs as she tosses a half dollar onto the table. "Used to uphold the law, Ellie. Can't have folks bleedin' and dyin' left and right."
[Darkwood] Elissa grins..."the lady had two shots of whiskey...is dressed in her sunday best..and is up to something...
[Darkwood] Jan says, "Out branding them dem cattle, ayup!"
Sterling tosses his own four bits onto the table, scootin' back some and saying to Leyira, "C'mon, honey, jus' have a seat in my lap, maybe it'll gimme some good luck."
Leyira plonks her hiney right onto the meskin's lap, wriggling until she's comfortable. Or at least one of them are.
Halft leans close to Ravenne for a moment, asking "Why not?" then he pops back out of the way, the snap of his tape measure only a soft sound behind Ravenne's back.
From afar, Leyira laughs and laughs! I've also already posed Halft's hearse out in the street, but a little doggie peed on one of its wheels.
Ravenne smirks over her shoulder at Halft. "Vulture," she mutters, before returning her attention to the game. "No dealin' from the bottom," she warns Sionell.
Sionell grunts and gestures to Sterling, "Hurry up you curr and cut them! Ain't gonna be much longer an that bedamed grave robber will be busy as hell!" she winks at Ravenne and nods, "Wouldn't dream."
Halft seems delighted, "Why, _Thank You_ my dear!"
Melody glances over at Halft and blows him a kiss, then turns her attention back to the game.
Elissa looks upcomfortable to se the grave digger about his work, and then gathers her thoughts....picks up her purse and check the contents again
To (Elissa, Ravenne, Kellin, Halft, Sterling), Jareth pages: Jailbreak anyone? :">
Sterling scowls at Sionell, then cuts the cards, reaching past a few of Leyira's appendages to do so. "Jes' deal, Ellie," he says gruffly.
Long distance to Melody: Halft bets people don't forget Halft's working for Jade, after this!
Elissa walks over to the door, picking her bonnet off of it's hook and settling it atop her head again.
Sionell scoops up the cars and with her wild eyes locked on Ravenne, she animatedly deals to all, "Five card draw.. no wilds." she snears faintly as the last card lands and she sets the deck aside.
Right on cue, the old granddad back in the far corner goes into his recital of _The Face on the Barroom Floor_. Same time every evening. He can count on a shot of whisky from Marcel for it, if nobody else pops.
From afar, Melody grins true..
Elissa ties the bow of her bonnet, looks over her shoulder. "remember Marcel...put that note in Maera's hands alone.
Sterling scoops his cards off the table, fanning them with a practiced ease, then turning aside to lob a wad of tobaccy-blackend spittle into a nearby spitoon.
Rubin arches a brow, watching the exchange between The little lady and the barkeep, and arches abrow. He gets up and heads fer the bar.
Rubin stands and leaves the shadowed table under the stairs.
Elissa opens the door, letting in a chilly draft of air, and steps out into the courtyard.
Ravenne leans back in her chair as she reviews her cards, her expression carefully neutral.
Long distance to Valentin: Halft waves
From afar, Valentin waves.
Long distance to Valentin: Halft is decidedly Out Of Character at the saloon...;)
From afar, Valentin is going to go there once he descs himself.
Leyira manages, pretty easily really, to get a look at Sterling's cards. Pokerfaced, that's the look. She smokes the last of that handrolled Bull Durham and drops it to the floor. "Darlin', would you stomp that out for me, hon?" A curling stream of smoke rises from the sawdust down there.
Melody picks up her cards, covering the backs with her hands, and keeping a tight fan, her nose crinkles as she considers what she has, then she glances around the able looking at everyone else's face.
Long distance to Valentin: Halft cool!
Rubin crosses behind the crad playing table on his way to the bar.
Halft slinks low, scurrying like a hermit crab around the table. Two hands reach up in back of Melody, a tape measure strung between them. The shoot down again, and a low voice mutters "Size two."
D'jaevle enters quietly, leaning into his staff. D'jaevle pauses near the door, scanning the room. D'jaevle steps into the inn from the courtyard.
D'JAEVLE
Amused, silver-hazel eyes look out from under dark black hair (with a silightly violet tinge) that comes down to the shoulders. From the lack of wrinkles and lines on the face, this person can be assumed to be fairly young. Perhaps what is disturbing about the person is that there is no definite gender identity - the features of the face, cheekbones, nose, chin, seem to be elegantly sculptured but give no hint to the sex. Perhaps what is disturbing about the person is that there is a lack of any determinable age, or perhaps it is this person's almost casual scrutiny of all things around him.
Somewhere between the height needed to enter a doorway without ducking and sitting with the feet on the floor, he doesn't seem to be very strong, but appears to be neither frail nor weak. The right hand is often visible, long slender fingers that ussualy is found clasping a solid oak staff. His other hand is often hidden in the sleeve of the black traveling robe upon which a black rose has been sewn. Around the waist is a brown rope from which hangs one small pouch.
Carrying: Bones, Darkwood staff
Sidana watcha Halft with dark, seemingly unblinking eyes.
Sionell picks up her own cards slowly and her face glimmers with a wild spark. she aranges her cards slightly and holds them close to her chest, she raises her chin slightly to the old marshal and murmers, "You first woman, place a bet."
Sofeia steps into the inn from the courtyard.
SOFEIA
A tall woman, black hair swept up into a deceptively simple hairstyle, allowing curls to fall loosely about her bare shoulders. Bare...since the sleeves of her rather low-cut, cheap satin dress have been pulled down to reveal them. Her skirts have been hiked up a bit to show some leg...although the knife strapped to her calf would seem to indicate 'look, don't touch.' The expression on her overly-painted face backs that up. While openly cheerful and almost challenging, she has a no-nonsense glint in her eye.
You paged D'jaevle with 'you do realize this is April first...?'.
D'jaevle pages: Yup.
Long distance to D'jaevle: Halft laughs.
Halft stands, pointing one, long sallow hand at D'Jaevle. "I'll get your business yet, pardner."
D'jaevle coughs, brushing dust from his robe. D'jaevle takes out a small vial, "You stay away from my apothecary."
Rubin glances down on his way by. As he looks up his eyes catch Ravenne's.
You say "Calls back to D'Jaevle. "You stay out of my embalming fluid!""
From afar, to (Halft, Jareth): Elissa is inspried to write a west whois....
Sofeia strikes a pose near the doorway, surveying the room and various patrons with a calculating glance.
Kellin steps into the inn from the courtyard.
KELLIN
D'jaevle grumbles, moving deeper into the room, leaning against his staff, "Not my fault the dead like my business better."
She's strong, self-confident, and tough as an old boot; the term 'lady' is definitely a misnomer for her. Slim and wiry of form, dark of face, her long brown hair cascades down her back with precious little attempt to tame or brush it, or even tie it up as any proper lady should. Liquid brown eyes shine out of a dark face that looks as though it is patterned with long-healed burn scars that are only now beginning to fade. She wears a man's clothes -- dust-covered shirt and sturdy pants over riding boots that are noticeably missing spurs.
Rubin is walking toward the bar, by way of the fireplace, and glancing down at the card players as he goes.
Leyira drapes an arm around Sterling's neck, ostensibly the better to sit comfortably on his lap. Uh-huh. She mutters to Sterling, "Yer... cutest... you... that,..."
Jocobus breaks his stare from the card game to the newcomers by the door. One draws an intense frown, and a casual hand on his shotgun; the other seems to keep said activity from growing worse.
"Quiet, girl," Sterling drawls to the young lady in his lap. "I'm tryin' ta cossentrate." He peers at the other card players, almost as if he can divine what's in their hands by the looks in their eyes. Or the backs of their cards.
Jan comes down the stairs from the upper hallway.
JAN
A young boy, about eleven years old, and unmistakeably gypsy, from the dark eyes to the color of his skin. His hair seems the only thing detracting from the image - it is pure black, yes, but with a pure white lock of hair that dangles over his forehead, falling into his eyes. The rest of it is held back by a string of beads wrapped around his head and serving as a headband. A few thin white scars are evident on his throat and wrists, and his right forearm is scarred rather badly, though it doesn't impair his use of the arm.
His clothes are indisputedly of gypsy make, but the formerly bright colors are faded down into somberness. Even the green sash tied around his waist seems faded. It contains a small knife and a vial holding some kind of liquid.
Kellin walks in, letting the door swing shut behind her. Her stride is steady and calm, her smile wry as she ignores the others in the room,making her way directly over to the fire.
D'jaevle sits down at the shadowed table under the stairs.
Sofeia tosses her head and sniffs, abandoning her pose near the door in favor of swishing through the room, in search of a seat.
D'jaevle take shis seat, leaning his staff against the table. His hand goes through his dusty robes, taking out a long slender scapel.
Ravenne's eyes dart across the table to Sionell for a split-second...and then to something just beyond her. Expression still bland, she tosses a 5-dollar piece onto the table. "There's my bet. One card."
:Jan appears on the stairs, darting into the room, snatching a few coins off the table by the fire. "Mine!"
Rubin seems to nod slightly as he continues on to the bar.
:beams, "Ah.... work?" He watches Jan scamper arc ross the as aloon.
Halft beams, "Ah.... work?" He watches Jan scamper across the saloon.
Ravenne's gaze wanders momentarily, and she notices Kellin finally. Her poker-face cracks as she shoots her a smile.
That wispy curl of smoke earlier coming from down by Sterling's boots in the sawdust is now a little bit more than a wisp, I would say so. The butt of Leyira's roll-yer-own down there has caught the sawdust shavings and little flames now lick up the table leg in a small, spreading circle.
Kellin's smile doesn't change or flicker as she approaches the table by the fire, snagging a nearby empty chair with one foot and dragging it over to watch the card game. "Evening."
Sionell folds her cards in her hand and pulls her gun out, "Come back here yah varmit! Tain won yet!" she roars and rises from the table slightly.
At the same time she smiles at Kellin, Ravenne also jerks her head in Jan's direction and barks, "Someone stop him."
D'jaevle removes a bone from his pouch. scraping along it with his scalepl.
Jan ducks into the crowd, then under a table.
;'s beaming smile nears ecstasy and he Sofeia saunters over toward Jocobus, skirts a-swish as she moves. "Well, hallo there," she drawls, dropping a wink toward the man.
notices Sionell pull her gun.Sterling sniffs at the air. "Sumthin' burning?" he mutters, glancing around and then stomping avidly at the fire on the floor. "Dag nabbit! Floor's on fire! Marcel! Git some water!"
"I hear the Bloodsti one's are a _rich_ family, " he croons.
Halft's beaming smile nears ecstasy and he notices Sionell pull her gun. "I hear the Bloodstone's are a _rich_ family," he croons.
"An' make sure it's water!" Ravenne hollers. "For Christ's sake, don't douse it with whiskey. Or ol' Halft there really *will* be a rich man 'for the night's out."
order Jan appears near Sionell unexpectedly, trying to nab her gun as well. "'ere, Mexxie, gimme that."
Jocobus allows a slightly lop-sided grin on his face, at Sofeia's greeting. A short nod, as the blond gunman never takes his eyes off of her. "'Evening, ma'am."
D'jaevle scraps the scapel along the bone over and over again.
Melody rolls her eyes a little and sighs, dropping her hands (with the cards still inthem) into her lap, and watching all the guns come out.
Sofeia sidles a little closer. "An yer not havin' anyone t'share it with?" she asks, mock-pouting. Nudgenude, winkwink.
Leyira slurps at her sasparilly.
Sidana rises and swiftly looks about for a saddleblanket....cost..something to smother the fire.
Sionell snarls and lets the hands that hold her cards fly for the little indian whelp. Intent of knocking the little buckeroo out.
Kellin rolls over backwards out of her hcair as the table catches fire. "Oh, for the love o'....can't y'all smoke without bringin' the place down around our ears..." A faint smirk tickles her lips as she turns to face Jan, and she drawls, "Business end first, I would..."
Rubin takes the opportunity while Marcel is distracted, to snag the Note Elissa left for Maera. He quickly makes his way out of the saloon in the confusion.
pl ook
Main Saloon - Phoenix Inn - Vertaintown(#633RDJM)
A large room, yet somehow still cozy, a high roof held up by thick oak beams. At the far end, a cheery fire rages in the grate, and a few chairs surround a table by it. Several more tables line the walls, with a long table, seating eight or maybe more, down the middle. There are also three or four stools at the bar, and another beside the bar, where Maera can often be found seated. Behind the bar, as well as rows of casks and bottles, there's a kettle of hot spiced cider, its smell pleasant and welcoming. To the right of the bar, a flight of stairs climbs up to the inn's guest rooms. The decoration in here is plain, and somehow cozy and welcoming, rather than extravagant and ornate. At the edge of the bar rests a large book. It appears to be a registrar in which to sign for a room.
Type 'menu' and 'prices to see what the Inn can offer.
There is a sign in the bar that proclaims that all weapons (except those carried by *on-duty* town guard, Cross or Rose members) must be left with the staff at the bar, or the owner will be asked to leave (and this will be enforced by the Watch).
Contents:
Leyira
People:
Jan
Kellin
Sofeia
D'jaevle, at the shadowed table under the stairs
Halft
Melody, at the cosy table by the fire
Leyira
Sionell, at the cosy table by the fire
Ravenne, at the cosy table by the fire
Sterling, at the cosy table by the fire
Jocobus
Sidana
Rubin
Objects:
Marcel
OOC Note: please read
Exits:
Stairs Kitchen
Outside
Sterling stands now, dumping Leyira out of his lap as he continues stomping at the fire, which seems to have caught on his boot now. "Dag nabbit!" he growls again, shooting a glance back at Marcel. "Whut, they don't pay you enough? Get a move on it!"
Jan flies back against the wall, nearly landing in the fire. He screeches like a coyote, something about his eagle feather, which is left lying near Ellie.
Rubin says, "Anyone mind if I emit Marcel?"
Sterling says, "Go ahead. :)"
Melody says, "go ahead."
Melody says, "jinx"
ooc Go for tit !
Halft says, "Go for it!"
"Someone grab the little squaw's brat an' get my money back," Ravenne protests, while stamping around her own chair with one foot. She shoots a dark glance at Leyira. "An' from now on, light up outside. Christ, this place is dry as tinder. Wanna kill us all?"
:beanm s at RavD'jaevle looks out at the room, curious, Screeeeeching, bone against metal.
enne. "What a lovely idea!?"
Halft beams at Ravenne. "What a lovely idea!"
Marcel takes his time in fetching a bucket of water. He brings it over to where the little fire has strated and dribbles enough on it to put the flames out. The he looks to Sterling, and throws the rest of the bucket in the man's face. 'NO. Matter o' fact, they don't pay me 'nuff to put up with the likes of you.'
Jan curses, "Damn place's full of them damn Mexxies. Here, Halftie, gimme a hand up afore they kills me."
p br ubin=:cheers!
Long distance to Rubin: Halft cheers!
In a moment, Kellin's own six-shooter is out of her shirt and trained on Halft. "Sounds like a real good idea. You wanna be first?"
:offers a "UHN! Damn! OW! Sheesh *^890^)$!!" Leyira lands hard and fast on the floor on her backside, caught offguard when Sterling dumped her.
cold hand to Jan. "Here than, I'; ll get you some other D'jaevle says "Looks like a few more boxes to build tonight...."
day."
Halft offers a cold hand to Jan. "Here than, I'll get you some other day."
Sionell approaches the lad, ignoring the feather and reaches to grab the boy before the coroner can get to him. "Wheres the damn money you little ..." she starts to growl at the boy.
Stumpy the Kid steps into the inn from the courtyard.
Stumpy the Kid has arrived.
l stuValentin steps into the inn from the courtyard.
Valentin has arrived.
mp
Young and seemingly full of life, this new recruit to an already elite Darkwood Rangers seems to be slightly bored in his duties and persuits, no doubt dreaming of two fisted justice, defending the honor of the West, and winning the hearts of young ladies. His equipment sports a six shooter when appropriate, but you believe him scarecly able to draw it properly, or even able to use it. And all that aside, he looks unintimidating.
Drab olive is his color of choice, his eyes shine bright green. Flushed skin gives him the extreme of youth and vitality, complete with a frekled nose. A gapped tooth smile lights even the gloomy twists of the gnarley forests.
Jocobus looks a bit disconcerted, what with the number of firearms being brought into play. His shotgun levels at the crowd in general, taking a bit of lead towards Kellin.
cal
Five cards flutter to the floor, most of them damp. Sterling's fist, incidentally, is headed right for Marcel's face.
Huh? (Type "help" for help.)
l val
Old Man Valentin. That's what the locals call him. To look at his face--when it ain't shrouded in the shadows of his wide-brimmed hat--you wouldn't think it. His skin's smooth, his eyes sharp; he's the model of young vigor. But there's something else about him. Mayhap it's an attitude, a way of looking at the world... or maybe it's just that humorless set of those thin lips. It could be that black suit lightly covered with dust--like he just got back from a funeral... or is headed there. Or maybe it's the way his hand never strays too far from 'Glummy' that legendary six-shooter of his, like he knows the way of the world's too harsh for anything less. Yep, some people are just born old.
:grabs Jan, Jan rolls away, money clenched in his hand. "Awww, you be touching me, Mex, the fire gets the money!"
"Jesus Christ in a wheelbarrow!" Ravenne exclaims as s
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