A Sin of No Name

[Red Thunder]

El Bandito Guapo
​

The thief stared down, face twisted monstrously into a sneer. Gurgling a plea of desperate confusion, a man lay at his feet. Crimson life bubbled from his throat, finding escape through a neat little hole. Smoke still curled from the barrel of the pistol the thief held, an ashen path for the dying man's soul to shortly follow. To their left, the thief's companions were rounding up several head of horses: excellent stock, to sell at inflated prices to the rich socialites of California who had more money than sense. The man, gray mustache now stained red as blood seeped into it from the puddle it lay it, reached out a weak hand. It grasped the thief's ankle, twitching in the last throes of persistence. His chest heaved, trying to force a cough that was wholly unequipped to the task of expelling the liquid from his lungs. Above him, the thief pulled back the pistol's hammer.

"Why, hermano? Jorge?" The words were barely discernable through the blood. The thief's sneer widened to a full grin. It had to; it was suddenly full to bursting with avarice, resentment, anger, and self-satisfaction.

"Because, cabron. Because he loved you more."

The pistol fired again. And again. And again.

Jorge fell to his knees, his stomach squeezing his supper enough to make it into a fountain of bile and filth. It made good on that threat, and only by shoving aside his neighbors did Jorge manage to avoid dousing them in his vomit. That- thing. It was- It was unnatural, he was certain. What was it doing here? What even was it?

And why did that girl from the Inn, that Eliza, treat it like- like it was a loved thing? No, it was a thing that Shouldn't Be. Jorge longed as he had longed for nothing else in his life to run screaming from the scene, disgusted by the very presence of that vile thing. Yet curiosity took him once more, and he returned for a closer look.

He should not have. He should have leaned into his inclination and left, returning to his bed with a bottle of tequila to drown the memory. Or, were that insufficient, he should have given himself to the wilderness, taking his chances. He later wished he had.

He pushed to nearly the inner-most circle, the crowd seeming to make easy way for him. The beast's eyes caught his own immediately. They seemed to look right into them, supernatural in their knowledge of his sordid past. They judged him, did those eyes. They knew. His deepest, worst offense. The one that, someone, the Law had never learned. He'd carried the memory around in his head, a secret weight; as far as his companions had known that night, the man he'd murdered was some random, poor rancher. No one knew that it was his-

But those eyes knew.

"You did not warn enough then, anciano."

Who the hell knew what the man was talking about? Jorge's own response came as a surprise to him, focused as he was on the corpse. Waiting- for what? No one appeared to want to act, to do anything. This girl, Eliza. She should not be sitting there like that. Even Jorge, for all his misdeeds, knew that. With a muttered mierda, he stepped forward and grabbed her by the back of the shirt collar.

"Come, muchacha. This is not a thing for you to see."

 

[Applo]

"Oh my lord."

Under her blanket shawl, Henrietta's hand tightened around the miniature pistol. The creature sprawled on the ground at her feet was a thing of nightmares. Even reposed in bloody death the thing was horrifying. Despite her best efforts, the red-heads' eyes kept being drawn to that twisted fanged mouth. Surely such a thing could only belong to a spawn of hell. It had been years since Henrietta had stepped inside a church; she had seen too many of the everyday horrors of frontier life to believe in a God that cared. Now though, now a chill swept through her that had nothing to do with the night air or state of semi undress. Snapping away from downed abomination, green eyes scanned the crowd for the priest, only to find something else entirely.

The faces that surrounded her weren't ones of horror or fear. The folk of town seemed neither shocked nor scared by what they were witnessing. They looked more like mourners at a funeral. Quiet, resigned, possibly even respectful. Stranger still, the inn girl seemed genuinely distraught at this creature's death. The tears that streamed down the girl's puffy face were all too familiar to Henrietta. They were the kind that came from a loved one's death.

In fact the only people who seemed to be acting as they should were herself and her fellow newcomers. The Mexican was the only one whose movement violated the sacrilegious sanctity of the scene. No one but her mother had ever accused Henrietta of being clever, but a person didn't need to know much to know that something wasn't right. It seemed that someone was trying to con her. Perhaps though it wasn't just the mayor. Perhaps it was the whole town.

"I believe I asked where the Sheriff is? This seems like something they should be dealing with."

Taking a step forwards with all the false confidence she could muster, Henrietta stared at faces both known and unknown to her until her eyes came to rest on a man with a thick, heavy beard.

"What did you warn them about? What is everyone hiding?"​

 

[Doctor Jax]

Na Zhao
Chinese Fortuneteller and Herbalist

The woman stood paralyzed in place as she stared at the thing beside Eliza's crouched form. It had taken her time to work her way into the crowd, but now that she was here... Her breath hissed in and out of her body, her eyes surveying it. Her mind could only go back to the I-Ching reading not so long before the cry had gone out. Never before had the World communicated so strongly through those three coins.

She was transfixed on it. No animal looked remotely close. It was almost like... A dim memory surfaced, a carnival showing her father mustered the money to see. She had hid behind him as she watched an ape with orange fur and long, long limbs swing from one bar to the other, goaded by a man with a mustache and stick to perform. The strange, illogical proportions of this creature reminded her of the ape, but this was so much bigger.

A hand touched her elbow, breaking her own trance, and she looked back to Teresa James, the shopkeeper's wife, only to catch her husband hush her and shake her head. Yet, she met eyes with the other woman, and she nodded her head.

She would come and ask later.

Hearing the rogue bandito's voice, though, coaxing Eliza to her feet, she rushed to do the same even as Henrietta did the same to the bearded man who had spoken. Her eyes flitted to Jorge, suspicion reeking from every pore, but she did not shoo him away.

"What kind of... place is this?" Na asked as she put a hand under Eliza's elbow, attempting to peel her away from the body. It was assuredly dead, the young girl's hands doing little to revive the creature.

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

NIGHT CRIER PT. II​

---

NPCS |ALL OF HIGHLAND

Upon closer assessment, the townsfolk were not quite as still and inert as previously thought. A few stirred from their deadened stares to regard the trio with varied interest. Still - no one moved. Somehow, in the interim, Perry the Drunk had slipped away unnoticed.

At Henrietta's approach, the man suddenly started, taking in the sight of her with a measure of shock.

"What-" He blinked slowly, regaining his composure. And then his countenance changed; he glared.

"Hiding? You're mistaken. There's no hiding in Highland. Your friendly sheriff - hell, all of them - should be here soon to clean up this- this mess he started. That you started. You!"

"Clevinger." A familiar Scottish brogue sounded from behind them, and Clevinger looked over to meet Mr. James' abnormally stern eyes. "Not another word."

"Why not?" He snapped. "She ought to know."

"There's no point, lad. They're sleep-"

"Don't touch me!"

Eliza's shouting, or rather, her shrieking, jolted both men out of their brewing argument. At the twin sensations of pulling from both collar and elbow, the girl jerked like a mad bull, throwing herself forward across the slain beast in an effort to break free.

"No! No! No!" She sobbed hysterically. "I don't- I don't want to go-"

As her elbow yanked free of Na's hands, something immediately caught her other one. She whipped around, red, puffy eyes meeting blue.

"Miss Eliza." Mr. Taylor - Angel - had crouched down on his knees besides her. Pity rimmed his eyes. "Come along now. It's getting to be too long we've been out."

Her lips wobbled. "But…"

"Can't leave you out here, miss. Me and...Miss Na and Mr. Jorge here," He went on, glancing over the both of them quickly, nodding in affirmation of their unspoken support. "We can't rightly leave you here. Either us or them."

"They coming."

Wicks loomed over Jorge like some malevolent spirit, and the scowl on his face portended impending doom. With considerable force, he pulled the bandit up and away from Eliza, and for all intents and purposes Mr. Wicks looked like he wanted pummel the man again. But the anger wasn't directed at him; the large man looked askance, eyes hard as two shadowy figures emerged from the gloom down the road, the shine of their badges unmistakable even in the dark.

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO​

It was only right, maybe, that his good deed should be met with hysterical rejection. The poor girl- she was clearly not thinking correctly. Loco, yes. Obviously. Jorge merely looked at Eliza, dumbfounded, his now empty hand hanging before him. Weak in the mind. An idiot. Or maybe distraught? Angel seemed to think so. The man's nod of- acknowledgement? Appreciation? indicated as much. Yet the feeling of wrongness did not leave the bandit's stomach.

The feeling of fear, of terror, returned from before. Or perhaps it was growing. Something was desperately, fundamentally wrong with Highland, even if he couldn't place it. Even if none of the residents acknowledged it. Life on the run gave a man a sixth sense about danger, and that feeling was making his heart beat violently against his ribs.

It was time to leave, the attraction and promise of riches forgotten. Damn the town. Damn his horse. Damn his fellow travelers. Damn the child. If they were content to remain under this oppressive atmosphere, then let them. No promise of gold could keep him.

"They coming."

Like his terror made manifest, Wicks seemed to materialize behind him, the iron grip on his collar a silent answer to his private plans of escape. Worse, he was a herald of an authority greater than that of just brute force. Eyes nearly bulging from his head, Jorge turned to look. A cold sweat broke out on his brow. It was them. Specters of absolute, merciless justice. A distant but inexorable power, approaching and inescapable. And he was caught, unable to flee from Wicks' grasp. The thought was already dead, however; Jorge knew, as certain as he knew that the sun would rise in the morning, that he would be shot dead if he were to run.

So he remained still, slack-jawed and frozen and terrified.

 

[Applo]

As Eliza's hysterical cries stole the stage, Henrietta stepped back into the darkness of the street. She had been right, there was something going on, though what was beyond her. It seemed like more than a simple con being run by a two bit snake oil salesman mincing around as a Mayor. That thing, that creature bleeding into the dirt was testament to that. No, it had to be something bigger. Just like a con though, it was clear that near everyone else knew something they wanted her not to know. That Clevinger fellow had been close to spilling something, perhaps everything.

For a few moments, green eyes focused on the mustachioed man. Henrietta was determined to remember their face. In another time and another place, she could make sure that there would be no cooler heads around to reign in the man's tongue. It would just be a matter of working out exactly how to make sure they lost their composure.

Then, silently as an owl on the wing, the red-head turned for the light and warmth of the inn. Eliza needed no one else fussing over her and the sight of the strange corpse had left feeling of unease festering in Henrietta stomach that would only be settled by a locked door and a bigger gun by her side.​

 

[Doctor Jax]

Na was shocked by the girl's resolve to stay with the body. This was no creature to her - it was a loved on, a friend, someone she had cared for deeply, somehow. Her eyes cast over the animal features, her skin growing cold in the desert air, before her gaze was pulled to the old drunk and the sound of James' voice. She looked to James' wife, trying to lock gazes with her.

They knew. It was beginning to make sense. The barricaded door. The dead horse. The need to move the livestock, any livestock. The lack of people in the town, the decay as supplies dwindled. But why did they need them then? What was it that made her and Jorge and Henrietta so important that they lie to keep them here?

"Eliza... Eliza, please," Na asked in hushed tones.

The girl seemed adamant to stay with the body, even as others urged her to move. Na bent down again to try and lift her by the elbow, stroking her hair, consoling her. Someone warned of an approach, and she looked up - stars in the night glinting upon the chests of the men who would have answers. She felt an anger begin to stir, as if decades of resentment, futile running, and indignity were all coming to the forefront. No, she wanted to have answers.

Gold was not worth this. She stood by the corpse, unwilling to be moved.

 

[Kuno]

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Each footstep landed atop the gravel with impeding resolution. Unhurried was their gait, though the pair moved quickly, drawing upon the thinning crowd with all the authority bearing their rank. The people of Highland's eyes turned upon them, varying emotions reflected across their still faces. For all his brashness prior to, Clevinger was entirely silent, and he leashed his boy once more with a firm hand on his shoulder. Mr. James pulled his wife tight to his side, his jaw clenched.

Samuel stood, hands at his sides, and feet planted wide, an air of indifference about the big man as he swept a look over the townsfolk. At his side, Garrett looked as unpleasant as ever - and the rifle in his hands completed the hostility radiating from him. Without a word, both stepped further into the circle, and the townsfolk moved aside. Wicks pulled Jorge out of the way before releasing him, an angry glare still fixed on the two lawmen.

At the sight of them, Angel started, opening his mouth to speak --

"Shhh." Samuel put a finger to his lips. "Quiet now."

He pointed a finger down at the beast's dead form and Eliza next to it, and his brow raised. Angel looked away, discomfited. But Samuel pointed again, adamant, and Angel released Eliza and rose slowly. He stepped back and away, his face shrouded in shadows as he pulled his hat down. Wicks's scowl only deepened.

"The rest of y'all get on back home," Samuel went on. "We'll take care of this. Go on, now."

Like puppets on strings, they all turned on one accord and left: Ms. Whitacur to her saloon, Clevinger and his boy to the post office, Old Man Worth hobbling away and past Henrietta to the Inn, and so on and forth. Something scratched roughly against Na's palm; Teresa James caught her eyes as she passed, but soon she was towed along, her husband moving mechanically towards their home.

Angel and Wicks lingered. At that, Samuel said nothing, but his focus went to the three newcomers. He smiled kindly.

"I apologize for this disturbance. Me and Garrett here been chasing this beast for awhile now. Hell if I know what it is; just heard it was disturbing farms and such. Got a good shot way back yonder, and I guess it dragged itself into town." At this, Samuel laughed lightly, and Eliza curled deeper into herself stiffening. "Hell if I know why."

"Whatd'ya need to give an explanation for?" Garrett muttered.

The sheriff ignored him, instead pointing at Eliza. "Miss Liza's always been soft of heart. Got a weakness for animals, so I hear. Poor thing probably just about tore her pretty little heart up --"

"Liar." The hiss that came from Eliza was barely audible, and there was enough vitriol in it to melt skin.

Samuel ignored that too.

 

[Doctor Jax]

Frankly, My Dear
collab with @Kuno ​

Paper rustled like no other. The worn edges were soft against Na's palm, and as the edges unfurled, the small scrap of sheet paper threatened to be whisked away in the wind. Under the lights from the buildings and the gathered men, the note's message could be made out: a rough drawing of a shape resembling the Plains Indian teepee, but turned upside down. A blackened symbol like a foot was drawn at the top, and an arrow pointing towards the strange image's center was positioned on either side.

Na squinted briefly at it in the dim light before hastily curling it back in her palm. Out in the darkness, both the sheriff and deputy came back to disperse the crowd, but Na did not leave. There was a strange steel in her spine. She did not want to abruptly lose that feeling of self-determination.

"You asked us to put faith in your mine and your town. And this— it dies here, at the door step of your inn," Na said, soft but firm, pointing down with a single hand. "Is this the first time?"

Always the faster of the two, Garrett's unfriendly face jerked her way. "First and last time. It's only dead 'cause of how hard we protect this town. Nowhere's safer than Highland, woman."

"We tracked it down ten miles west of town, by Clearing," Samuel continued in that dragging way of his, his tone far more respectful than his subordinate's. "I've never seen anything like it before in this area; me and the boys will be sure to suss it out some more in the morning. In the meantime, I...wouldn't worry none about it."

At this, the sheriff tried an easy smile, but it came off as a grimace. Garrett merely scoffed.

Na's gaze was hard, black eyes unreadable. Their claim rang hollow to her.

"Then why did Miss Eliza cry this way over this creature? If this is the first of its kind you have seen. She grieved as if losing someone she loved. I find that hard to believe," Na pressed. "A safe town is a town where such things do not ever darken the boundary."

Samuel sighed.

"Youth, a gentle spirit, hysterics -- I don't rightly know. I don't pretend to understand fits of the feminine making." Shrugging a large shoulder nonchalantly, the sheriff eyed his deputy, who had fixed Na with an affronted glare. "We'll see to it she's settled before the night's through."

"I shall see to Eliza myself. No need," Na stated, and the sheriff raised a brow. "I will be checking on her tonight. You can be sure of this."

The paper crumpled in her hand. She would also make a visit in the morning to Teresa. The symbol inscribed only invoked more mystery. Not only that, but Eliza had known this creature as more than just a dying creature in need of a friendly presence.

"You are certain this is the only of these creatures? Where did it come from?" Na asked, drawing her shawl closer to her body.

"Now now. You leave alllll the worrying to us," Samuel told her, like a father to an inquisitive child. His smile was equally patronizing. "Grisly affairs are best left to the lawmen. As for Miss Eliza…thinks it's best we finish this."

He looked at Angel hard.

"Mr. Taylor?"

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

LIGHTS OUT​

---

NPCS |REMNANT OF HIGHLAND

Angel was conflicted. He did not say as much, but his expression spoke for him. He frowned, brows pulling inward, his eyes darting from the sheriff to his young charge in a manner unwilling to linger too long on either subject. It raised the hackles of his companion.

"It ain't on him," Wicks snapped, "It ain't right-"

"Man's got a mouth to object hisself."

Samuel regarded Wicks coolly, unfazed by the large man's intensifying glower. For a moment, it looked as if the stable hand wanted to come to blows - a sight, to be sure; the two men rivaled each other in size. But Angel took a step forward, and the tension was abruptly diverted as he crouched down beside Eliza.

For all her protestations earlier, the girl was still and silent as the man took her up into his arms. She curled into him, her face burying itself into his shirt like a babe. For in actuality, she really was just a child; just shy of thirteen, she was no more grown than Clevinger's boy.

"Go on and take her home," Samuel ordered. "Mr. Wicks - stay here and help us tidy things up."

Garrett spat off to the side. "Yer forgetting something."

"Am I?"

But of course he wasn't. Slow and lackadaisical he may have been, but forgetful he most certainly was not.

The slow whine of wind through the near empty town was fading, though it continued to push and pull at their clothes and exposed skin. Nearly imperceptible, the darkness crept in from the corners of their vision; slowly, in tandem, windows in homes blackened, encroaching shadows bleeding into the small circles of light cast by the sheriff and his deputy's lanterns. The opposing forms of Wicks and Garrett were consumed by the black, and as the sheriff himself began to grow dimmer and dimmer, he smiled.

"Nightmare's over. Wake up."

 

[Kuno]

Alfa
Eczar
Waiting for the Sunrise

DAY THREE

---

The sudden burst of light was a far cry from the smothering dark of night.

The ceiling was laid awash in the golden glow of the rising morning sun. Aged wooden paneling greeted each of their eyes: Henrietta's, Na's, and yes, even Jorge, who found himself not in the cell, but in his own room at the Inn, the layout identical to the other's. A sturdy sensible bed and a small desk and chair abutting it. The wool blankets scratched at one's skin with familiar warmth.

How they had gotten into their beds eluded them, no matter how hard they tried to remember. Memories of the last night lingered, though the mind struggled to retain them. The images blurred at the edges, like a fleeting dream. Through the window beside their bed, the street below betrayed nothing of the night's previous events; the dirt road was clean and undisturbed. Not even a hoof mark, foot step, or wheel imprint marred its surface. From below, the heavy movements of Old Man Worth could be heard, and the same mouth-watering scents from yesterday wafted from beneath the crack in the door. And another familiar sight: a note slipped under the crack of the newcomer's door.

In bold, elegant font, the paper read: "THE MAYOR CORDIALLY INVITES YOU TO JOIN HIM AT HIS OFFICE. OPPORTUNITIES FORTHCOMING."

It was a repeat of yesterday morning. The same note. The same message. The same sights, smells, and sounds. Deja vu.

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO​

Jorge was used to nagging feelings. He had to be; he carried so many, burying each beneath layers of hedonistic tenancies, anger, and guilt. Even as he opened his eyes to the new day, fresh with promises of wealth and prosperity, something itched at his brain.

This itch was different. Maybe. It whispered, in a tone just beyond hearing, that something didn't- wasn't right. Something he'd done? It was likely, given personal history.
He sat up, noting his day clothes discarded on the chair, tossed carelessly as was his wont.

They coming.

Head throbbing, Jorge caressed it in his hands, trying to massage the pain away. Grunting, he stood, eyes squirting against the sunlight that filtered in through the curtain. The water in the wash basin was cool against his face; it felt like a fresh start. Maybe it could be, today. Hadn't the mayor promised gold? Gold! Wealth unclaimed! Just waiting to be freed from the cold stone. A sudden energy in his step, he moved to make himself- less unpresentable, stopping his dressing only long enough to glance at the letter on the floor.

Breakfast time, it seemed to him. So it was that he was practically scampering down the stairs five minutes later. The invitation had been stuffed into his pocket, for the brief moment forgotten in favor of the promise of a morning meal not inside a cell. Grinning his characteristic sneer, Jorge found himself a seat.

"Ay, Dios mio! A warm breakfast to begin a day of riches. Oy! Hermana!" He raised his voice, calling to no one in particular. "What are we having today?"

 

[Doctor Jax]

Na Zhao
Chinese Herbalist and Fortune teller

The world was a soft cotton swaddling cloth, about the mind and the body. Everything was in watercolor softness as consciousness bled through Na's head, her eyes squinting shut against the light. Memory was not so much recollection as impressions, without structure and dissolute. She wondered, first, whether her father would make the morning congee, and how she could bear to leave the soft confines of her bed and blankets. Second, was the realization she had long left her father and his breakfasts, some time ago, and only mental inertia would have her believe such an idea even after so many years. She was in a new town, and something had happened the night before, something that had had her wishing her father could give her counsel.

Her third thought... was Eliza.

She bolted upright, realization coming to her swiftly. Her memory felt suspiciously blank, as if she were grappling something slicked by oil. Hurriedly she stood up and threw on her day-wear, forced to sacrifice some propriety for speed. Her hair was left down, a shawl thrown around her shoulders, before she bustled out of the door and down the stairs. Quickly she read the note left under her door, eyebrows furrowing.

First, she should see to Miss Eliza. She needed attending. But where was the Old Man?

In the dining room, she caught sight of a familiar face, and she steeled her expression as one of cool politeness.

"Ah, yes. Have you perhaps seen Miss Eliza? Or the owner?" Na asked, her voice soft as she stood in the doorway.

@Red Thunder

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO​

His call had caught the attention of one of the women, though not the one in charge of providing food. Jorge barely gave her much thought.

"Eliza? The owner? Pah. What of them?" A chuckle rumbled in his throat, and he sneered. His chair leaned back on the rear legs as he draped one arm over the back of it. "Unless they are bringing breakfast, they don't matter! I have a meeting, hermana! A meeting with the mayor!"

He finished with a crack of a laugh. There was no mention of the gold promised. Yesterday was- fuzzy. Did the others know about it? Had the meeting only included Jorge and that bastardo of a mayor? And what had happened after? The midnight awakening still tickled his brain, though the actual events eluded him.

The mirth was a concealment, quickly turning transparent. At the Easterner's mention of the girl's name, Jorge's stomach had tightened. Why did that name feel significant? Why, Dios mio, why had his hands gone clammy?

Red eyes. Empty. Seeing everything.

They coming.

"Not, ehm, not that I care," Jorge said, shrugging his shoulders most in a most unbelievable nonchalant fashion, "but what do you want with them?"

@Doctor Jax

 

[Applo]

The ornate invitation looked out of place in the simply furnished room. Henrietta sat on the side of her bed and stared at it. Something about the slip of people tugged at unknown strands of her mind that brought flashes of images into the red-head's mind. Impossible images. They felt like a dream. They had to have been a dream. The memories were certainly fragile like a dream, the more Henrietta reached for them, the more they crumbled.

At the same time though, there was a vividness to them. The ghost of a metallic tang hung in her nose. The whisper of fatigue lingered in an arm. Dreams were never that vivid. However intense the images the mind her, in Henrietta's experience, the rest of the senses were left idol and detached.

Lifting her eyes from the paper, Henrietta scanned the room for empty bottles and found none. That only added to her confusion. Perhaps she had been drinking at the saloon? That idea didn't seem right, but if the truth was to be told, the redhead had no idea how she had ended up in the bed she had woken up in.

Lifting herself from the bed Henrietta tried to push the confusing thoughts from her mind and focus on the day ahead. Meeting with the Mayor would require her to be dressed in better clothes than the ones she had ridden into town in. They were traveling clothes, not for meeting a town official. As ever, impressions mattered. This was doubly true for the mayor. Opportunities may have already proffered themselves for her in Highland, but that didn't mean there wouldn't be more to take advantage of.

For a moment, the former saloon girl fingered a low cut green dress. He had bought her not too long before the evening that had led to her winding up in highland. Cut lower than her parents would think acceptable around the neck, but not so low as to make her look like a working girl, the dress was if nothing else, the least worn of Henrietta's options; and therefore the best for meeting the mayor in. Henrietta let emerald fabric fall from her hands. Instead, she plumped for a slightly worn blue dress that was a common enough sight in the praries she had grown up in. It was an inferior dress, but it was also not hooped.

Placing the garment on the bed, Henrietta spent a few minutes fussing with the awkward straps of the holster she had bought for His six shooter. She felt uneasy in a way that she couldn't quite explain. Normally her deringer would have been all the security she needed, but the images that occasion flashed their way through her head made her feel uneasy to her very core.

Once the gun was secured to her leg, the redhead lifted the dress above her head and let the tired fabric fall past her face. A few moments more were spent fussing the garment away from the larger of her two weapons before she once more picked up the invitation. Again, the paper triggered flashes of impossible memories. This time however Henrietta let it fall to her side rather than lose herself to that madness again. Instead, she shut her eyes and focused on her breathing until she could fix a smile on her face that even she might believe. Just because she was having a strange morning was no reason to let the mask slip. Breakfast was waiting.



"Good Morning, my dears."

Sweeping into the inn's dining room with all the airs and graces of a European lady, Henrietta beamed a smile that hid her disappointment. The only people in the room were the Chinese girl, Naw or Nar or something similarly strange and the Mexican that had ridden into town with them. The presence of the latter struck the redhead as a little odd. For some reason she felt they shouldn't be here, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out why. The room was wholly devoid of the figure of Moeses which was a shame. Moses was quite entertaining. Henrietta couldn't recall if Nar or the Mexican had said anything at all that she could remember. Maybe they didn't speak much English. Lots of foreigners didn't.

How did you sleep? "The words came out slower than was usual for the saloon girl and bore the well practiced and readily available charm of the best dressed kind of criminal. "Did you receive an invitation from the mayor?"​

A collaboration with @Applo

 

[Kuno]

Eczar

THE INN-MATES​

---

NPCS |PERRY THE DRUNK

Food was the purpose for their being there. In the back of the dining room, petering from behind the partition to the kitchen, the sounds of cutlery being used echoed lightly in the foreground. Someone was preparing earnestly for their meals, though there was no reply at Na's inquiry.

With weighted sighs, the floorboards creaked softly in the hall. A shuffling gait could be heard creeping down the corridor, and then a figure appeared in the entryway. An unkempt, dirty figure with the pungent scent of rye and a toothy, mischievous grin. The town drunk had arrived.

"Whoops– don't mind ol' Perry."

Nothing moved but his eyes. They darted from woman to woman, woman to man, and his smile broadened, growing grotesque. With a light chuckle, he inched forward, scratching his bearded chin.

"Well, well, well. Looky here," He drawled, "Youse beat an old miner to the punch. Came for some breakfast vittles, did ya? Coursin' you did–'scuse me."

Unnecessarily, he squeezed past Jorge and sat down directly beside him. A cloud of dust lifted from him as a result, and Perry swatted it away wildly. He was quick to smile again.

"Now uh, 'scuse the raisin' of a Perry, but the brain's a-wondering: did the ears hear you folks say you're meeting the mayor?" From within his long, disheveled beard, his lips smacked together satisfactorily. "My my my. After such a night, too."

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO​

Jorge's question, and indeed the privacy in which it was asked, was shattered. Not once, but twice. First, the American woman, the redhead, sauntered into the room. She never dropped the pompous air, it seemed, and the smile she opened up dripped with arrogance. He would know; it was his primary emotion. Then she had to speak, Dios mio, as if she was utterly ignorant of the conversion going on prior. Or maybe she just didn't give a damn. It was likely; his eyes were drawn to the generous crevice below the gringo's almost against his will. Not that he fought the inclination. What was her plan: seduce the mayor? To what purpose? To take the yellow treasure for herself? To ply the idiot administrator into denying all access to others? He'd have words, were that the case. Wicks be damned. The Lawmen be damned. The beast be-

The scream echoed in his mind again, the red eyes resting on him in unfocused accusation of- something. The weight of a small arm was in his hand, and he looked down. The girl. The girl was-

Jorge was jolted from the memory, however, as the second interruption entered. "Perry", apparently. Jorge's nose wrinkled at the noisome scent that heralded the drunk's entrance. His face grew dark, though it had been pleasant enough at the conversation with Na. Even considering Henrietta's faux pas hadn't affected him this angrily, though his knees still trembled.

"Ay! Mierda!" he cursed as Perry shoved past. It was fortunate that they'd as yet had no breakfast; the stale stench of spirits on the vagrant was upsetting his stomach badly. He stood, seeking another seat. "Cabrón! Plenty of seats to take! No need to be so neighborly!"

 

[Doctor Jax]

Na Zhao
Herbalist and Fortuneteller

So this man is meeting the Mayor as well. She thought back to the invitation that was tucked in a pocket. No wonder he was so excited, though deep somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she was aware that he had no business speaking with the Mayor. He had been in jail, hadn't he? But then again, he had also been there when the Mayor had also shown him that gold. She gnawed her bottom lip. Something seemed to grate somewhere inside her brain.

Why was he wondering why she wanted to find Eliza? Wait -- why did she want to find Eliza? Yes, she was getting out of here, after getting her share of gold, and she had wanted to convince Eliza it was worthwhile to come with. After all, two hands made light work, and there was work to be done for sure. With two of them, perhaps they would make better money in a larger city like San Francisco, especially where she had others of her kith, if not her kin. Her face looked years younger with her hair down, her form still as a tree.

But telling the bandito might attract unwanted attention if he knew two women - largely unarmed and alone - were to depart the town at some date.

"She wanted her fortune read to her, and I was willing to do it for her. Young girls, they all love finding out what the future has in store for them - a handsome husband, beautiful children, a good place to live," Na stated simply.

And then in bustled the American woman, followed by the drunk, whom Na discretely made a face at as he bustled past her. How rude, the both of these Americans. Henrietta spoke slowly to her, and Na's expression was a kind of blank that bespoke not so much lack of emotion as the restraint of them.

"I slept quite well, thank you, Ma'am. I would assume you too are seeing the mayor this morning, then. I did receive an invitation," Na said in slightly accented English. While she may not read quickly, she certainly was fluent. Her dark eyes slid to the drunk sliding into place beside Jorge.

"Last night? What of it?" she asked him. "I do not remember it much. Perhaps I was so tired from the day's activities..."

No, there it was again, oil slicked through her mental finger tips as she attempted to recall what had happened after the sun went down. There were only vague impressions. Like the crumple of paper in her hand from a po--

A hand wandered into her leftmost pocket, finding a note there. A deep unease filled her. Why could she not remember the particulars of something that had only happened the night before?

@Kuno @Red Thunder @Applo

 

[Applo]

"Ignore this silly old fool."

Despite the words meaning, Henrietta's tone was as benign as dawn light as she slid into a seat a respectable distance from the others. Only one thing betrayed the red-heads air of easy calm; as she settled back in her seat, there was a heavy dull thud as the handle of the revolver strapped to her leg connected with the worn wood through her dress.

Henrietta dealt with this by ignoring it. It would do no good for anyone to suspect she was armed. In her experience men became nervous if they knew a woman held the same tool as them. If she was to try and explain the un-explainable feeling discomfort that had made her pick up the weapon, well then she would be called silly and hysterical. No. The best thing to do was to act if nothing had happened and remember to act with more care.

"Perry here rather enjoys telling tall tales and being the center of attention, don't you Perry?"

Pausing to take a bite of meal, the former saloon girl stared at the town drunk.

"I met our friend here the day we arrived in town. I met him in the saloon, behind the bar, helping himself rather freely to the drinks. I imagine his tales of last night can be found there, in the bottom of his glass. You would do better to think of the day to come rather than worry about such stories."​

 

[Red Thunder]

EL BANDITO GUAPO​

"No, I do think I would like to hear." Despite his initial impression, Jorge had questions hungry for answers. His belly gnawed at him, as the holes in his memory gnawed at his mind. "I am no stranger to drink, senora, and what you see is not always hallucination."

His demeanor had changed significantly. What was it about last night that ate at him so? Na was lying about the girl; that much was plain. A liar knows his craft, even when constructed by others. Her own bearing was too refined, too controlled. He spared another glance at the Asian girl. No, she knew, or perhaps suspected, something. Did that mean the gringo had some recollection as well?

She certainly came prepared. The thunk of pistol on wood is a distinct sound for those raised around firearms, and Jorge had spent nearly all of his life holding one. He smiled, though he made an effort to hide it; he was not allowed weapons, but how difficult would it be to take hers, should the need arise? Should the opportunity arise?

Ah, but the gold. No, Jorge would not run. Not yet. Not when there was the chance for riches.

And yet, the nameless fear of the night prior was a spike in his mind. Doing his best to hide his disgust, Jorge turned back to Perry.

"Please, tell us about- last night."

@Kuno @Doctor Jax @Applo