Frontier Haven - IC

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Dr. Cigs smiled as Buck left, he wasn't much for a bar fight or any type of fight really. He honestly doubted there would ever come a time when he would stab someone with his sword, or fire the gun he kept hidden under his coat. Finished with his meal the good doctor exhaled and returned the pipe to his mouth, a action he felt himself wanting to do ever since he started eating. Now contemptly smoking away he got up, collected himself, formally said goodbye to the other patrons, and got three feet outside the Catus.

Dr. Cigs had just made it onto the road when a wagon pulled by a big, angry black bull came careening by, missing him by mere inches. His heart stopped and the man had to support himself with his cane to keep him from falling into a faint. After the sudden moment of terror had passed the doctor began shouting very gentlemanly things at the wagon, shaking his cane in fury. Or at least he would have if he didn't fall down as soon as he rose his cane. His foot was broken, and Cigs putting weight on it had sent a burning pain up his leg. He moned in pain, clutching his leg on the dusty road. "Some help would be greatly appreciated!" He yelled into the tavern.


The wagon came to a stop in front of the Royal Flush tavern. The extremely muscular black bull's bloodshot eyes darted around wildly as out of the folds of the wagon came a man. The wore tattered clothes and a black hat that shaded the upper part of his face. Only his burned skin and broken smile could be seen as he approached the teenagers and the men accompanying them. "Morning children. Here to talk business yes?" The man said in a raspy voice. "Y-yeh..." The lead teenager nervously muttered, looking up at the towering man. "Good answer. I'm certain we can come to a solid agreement, of course we should wait until we're inside. Some unfortunate soul might think differently." With that the man turned back to the wagon. "Get going you lot, this won't take long so don't go too far." The wagon immediately turned and swiftly arrived at the Howling Jackal.
 
Johannes Robertsson had done his walking, and now: after what felt like miles of tracking trails and looking for hotspots, he finally found what he was looking for. Infront of him was a hill, covered by numerous stray-rocks and such things, but he was definently close to his goal. Based on the maps, the smoke signals and lastly what his friends tribe had said, this hill would mark the beginning of a town's border. He scattered up the hill, his shoes slightly torn up due to the strain that he had underwent, his stomach howling at him to find the nearest stop and grab a good bowl of corn with bread, soaked in fat to keep him going. He had just the idea as he was approaching the town of how to start finding it. It was morning, so no doubt people would want a good place to eat at, as oppose to a drinking tavern, and as he went over the hill: his rather sensitive nostrils picked up a scent through the rather dry climate. Meat. He quickly descended the hill and approaching the town, probably looking like a mad man at this point- but Johannes was willing to admit one thing: he couldn't care less about how he looked. Being social just wasn't his thing, or fitting in with the trend for that matter.

He barreled through the town, dodging pedestrians left and right, some of them donning black clothes, others whites- some even wore proper dresses, but he couldn't tell exactly what they were as he passed them with their appearance becoming all but shady to him. He stopped in his midst run, and looked upwards to see the tavern that had called for him- and seeing that there were a few patrions inside, he could easily tell that this was a good place to eat food at. No doubt about it in his mind, his reptile brain working over time to identify what was edible inside. However, in a moment of self-concioussness, he glanced over at his general posture, as if he was a wild man. He knew what happened last time he barreled in- hungry as a wolf with eyes as scary as a snake. Kicked out, no food, shift through trash. He straightened up his posture, coughed into his right hand and lowered it back down- dusted off his overall's top portion before he walked inside at a calm pace. He pushed open the doors and took a good look inside from where he was standing. And he could tell already he was late to something.

He saw a group of people according to his eyes, but focused primarily on three people. Two feminine figures, one with unusual grey hair, revolver at her side and a hat to cover it up. As oppose to that, she wore usual clothing- nothing out of the ordinary. By the way she sat, he was able to cypher information from her. Not an outlaw, nor is she in a fixed group of some kind- she seemed too aware of her environment to be in a group, and too relaxed to be an outlaw. By her guns, he tried to cypher out her job: He guessed either a Bounty Hunter, or a Gunslinger. She was one of he first persons in the saloon that confused Johannes right from the start: he was not really able to read her like he often did with the rest. Johannes tried not to distract himself with her only, and looked over to the others. The other feminine figure had unnaturally long, blonde hair. Freckles on her face, mole on one eye, posture was too confident. Her guns, without a doubt proved she must've been a gunslinger. The third one donned a hat, much like the other two- but had a masculine build, wore a poncho, had a coin around his neck and had the kind of "Don't screw with me, I won't screw with you" kind of attitude behind him. Due to his overall build, gruff look and gun on his side- Gunslinger came to mind.

Johannes Robertsson approached a nearby empty table, and quickly settled down, placing his backpack down next to his chair, the opening of the backpack angled towards him. He was able to take in the scent of food just in time as he was suddenly greeted by someone- looking at him rather patiently. He felt his throat clog up, but quickly recovered and said "Two bowls of Sofky, thank ye kindly, and uh... water." just as the person turned around in response, and approached the back area. Johannes coughed slightly after the figure had left, his voice felt hoarse and sounded like gravel grinding against wheels. Johannes sighed in relief now that he didn't need to talk anymore and leaned back against his chair. He reached up for his back and straightened out his wolf head, ensuring that it was staying ontop of his head as he looked around, curious about the people that were inside- as it had been quite a while ago since he last saw any signs of humans.
 
Little Wolf, know as Lara to the townspeople, finished up her morning choes. She had milked the two cows her family owned and fed the chickens and the pigs. She now went to the corral where a band of horses grazed. A young black stallion, barelyout of colthood, lifted his head and whinnied a greeting. The young half Cheyanne woman smiled and entered the corral as the horse trotted up to meet her. "Good morning Nightwind." She spoke in her mother's tongue, the Algonquin language. She wore a Deerskin dress and leggings, as she had planned on riding that day. She opened the gate and Nightwind followed her out. She rested a riding rug on the stallion's back and slipped a rope bridle over his head. Her father used leather tack and a saddle, but Lara rode as her mother's people did. She tapped her heel against the stallion's flank and he trotted off. "We'll stop in town before we go out onto the plains." She said.
 
Tori stuck her tongue out at buck as he left then smirk stretched across her face when she turned back to Liz. She clapped the grey-haired girl on the back approvingly. "Couldn't have said it better myself," she praised.

"Though really, if it's bounty yere after then I could help you out. It's better ta do it with someone you know won't shoot you in the back for your earnings." Tori stifled a yawn at this point, she'd just about done all there was to do here. Various things popped back into place when she stood and stretched.

"Well, I'm fixin' to see what else I can get myself into." she raised her had in a weak wave goodbye to Liz before heading to the door. Not forgetting to send a gruff looking man at a table a wink and a hat tip before she exited. The man had looked pretty ragged, and it just seemed like he could use a smile. That done, she left The Cactus behind.

The first thing she saw was a very disgruntled Cigs on the ground. She ran up to his side and helped the man up, retrieving his cane.

"Sheesh what the hell happened, Doc?" she asked
 
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Johannes let his mind wander as he waited for the bowls to head his way, seemingly eager for it to arrive. He looked on over towards the other people sitting on the nearby tables- and eyed the silver haired girl one more. She might've lived here for a long time, and since Johannes was a new-guy around here, it might be for the very best to ask her if she knows what's going on, and where to find the traders that he was the most interested in, next to the food. He eyed his surroundings as he felt a shadow graze the back of his eye, and came face to face with the person who had went up and asked him for what he wanted, and placed down two bowls next to him, along with a good glass of water. Johannes reached over for his side, and began to pull at his sacks of goods, until he came across with a fist of what seemed to be green bills, and passed the man five of them. "Uh... keep the change." Johannes uttered as the figure took ahold of the dollar bills, and went on his way. Johannes picked up the spoon quickly and scooped up a good amount of cornmeal, meat bits and grease to keep it all together, and munched down on it. By the time he went to stop eating from one of the bowls, he noticed they were both empty, and the glass that had contained water was mysteriously empty. A healthy eater, that's what Johannes was, no doubt about that. He looked on over towards the silver haired girl once more, whipping his lips clean off the bits that were left and decided it would be best to ask her the question.

"Heya, miss. You wouldn't mind if a Hunter asked you were a trader could be found? I got pelts and teeth to sell, and I need to get ahold of some .50-70 Government and Salt Rock shells, if you know of a good smith around the town." He spoke in a calm tune, his voice indicating he was more relaxed now with a belly full of sofky than before, his gaze showing a hint of certainty over something that she probably wouldn't be able to decypher.
 
It felt like she did something she shouldn't do. Helping people is the only thing she's good at anyway, and by refusing to help someone, it means that she didn't do what she's good at. Liz was wondering for a few moment whether what she did was right or wrong. The guy did looked down on her friends, but maybe due to his gruff look and aura, he didn't actually dissed them away, it's just how he goes. The guy was outsider, and was only trying to get some information. Then again, if she did give some information to the guy, Liz could picture Tori getting mad and threw a punch or two. Maybe. Well in any case, it ends in peace, so nothing bad came out of it.

"Yeah, i'll consider it sometimes" Liz said to Tori, who seemed really tired. Her job probably lasted throughout the night, which is normal. It's not like you can sleep while your horse gallops at full speed, neither can you take a rest while the caravan still going fast, nor could you ask at the client to stop for several hour to get some sleep, since they'll be sleeping in the caravan. That also puts another thing on the pile of 'Things to consider if you're trying to do some jobs'. Being a freelancer has its own merits afterall. Tori has been out from the Cactus at this moment, and Liz is still wondering whether she should try the bounty thingy.

Then someone brought her mind back to reality. The guy was, unique. He's definitely not one of the Indians, yet his getups and stuffs indicates that he was indians from birth. Not to forget that he's towering tall. His voice denies those outlooks though, since his voice is pretty calm, unlike the gruff guy from earlier. Well no matter, the guy is here for information, and it's her job to help anyone who needs help, and is polite in asking. Still, the thing that the guy asked was, unique as well. She's pretty sure she never heard the term salt rock shells before, other than salty shells, salt rock, or rock shells, but never in the same sentence, but it's definitely an ammo type, since he said the caliber, and shells.

"Uh well, there's the Wesley and Winston's General Store near here,they also buy some stuffs, not sure how much they'll pay though. For those, salty shells? You can try asking the gunsmith at Old John's, i'm sure he can answer your question better than i did" Liz said, tilting her head, smiling sheepishly. "I can show you the location if you want" Liz offered.
 
Lara had reached the town and guided her horse to the general store. She tied him up to the hitching post and went inside. The young half Cheyanne woman looked around for provisions to take with her for a day or so out on the plains.
 
Soon after it pulled up out of the the bull-drawn wagon came a contingent of men in dark clothes, all with the same red bandanna around their necks. Finally the wagon creeked in relief as a man the size of a large bear heved himself out. As the group of ruffians entered the Howling Jackal, his shoulders and bald head brushed against the sides of the doorway. Tattoos of horned skeletons hitting pleading men with barbed whips covered his bare chest and back, seeming to move as his muscles tightened and released. The rest of the men seemed to wait before he spoke to sit down, which he did, in a voice so deep, cold, and booming with command that the glasses behind the counter shook. "Round o' whisky fer us all. Keg o' yer strongest stuff fer me. Make it quick too, wench." After launching those words at the salon girl he sat down, as the seat he sat at hardly took up half his bottom and gave a desperate creek the others sat around the bear of a man, smirking fiendishly.


"I thank you immensely Madam Chanes." Dr. Cigs's words sounded like a bomb about to blow, as if poking him on the shoulder would result in being shot several times. "I believe my foot has been broken by some rather careless driving on part of the occupants of that wagon there." He pointed quickly with his free hand at the wagon now sitting in front of the Howling Jackal. "If you would be so kind as to inform them of their mistake I would gladly pay for any bullets you use in the process and not charge you for any more appointments you have this year." With that the good doctor made a slow hobble for his cynic, muttering very terrible words under his breath.
 
Johannes gave her a solid nod and began to boot himself off the chair. He dusted himself off and gave the man who had served him the food "Thank you very much for filling this belly, was definently a dish worth eatin'." to which the man responded to give him a nod, and recommended him to head back if he was hungry. He approached Liz calmly and said "Aye, I'll be taking you up on that offer. This town's relatively bigger than those that I tend to handle and haggle with. That and I could use a bit of socializing with someone every now and again." He approached over to the exit and stood there for a second, as if he was calculating something in his mind, or trying to come up with an answer to a rather hard question. He turned around to face Liz once more, and asked "I suppose the guided tour's gonna cost a bit? I got a few dollars left and all, but I'll have to get to the trader to fully pay you back." And if Liz decided to walk out of the tavern with him, he'd tag along: letting her lead on.
 
Tori grinned "Why I'd be glad to Doc," she called to the disgruntled man's retreating form. This ought ta' be fun she mused. She was just fixin to raise a little hell. The Howling Jackal wasn't no Cactus. There won't be any complete innocents dining in there. She stalked up to the cart and eyed the muscular bull warily. Thing was pretty skittish for such a proud animal. She shrugged it off and swaggered familiarly into the Jackal. She'd spent some time here in many occasions, was the top pick if you were lookin' to get full as a tick. There was the usual beat, benders, no-goods, the works. All up to their own business.

Tori wasn't one for long searches, so she decided to get her info from everyone at once. She brought one hand up to her mouth then let out a loud attention-commanding whistle. For the most part, the patrons quieted and focused in on her. She smiled in a friendly way and tipped her hat. Most the patrons were familiar with the gunslinger "Whatcha' after now Chanes!" One man asked, the crowd murmured in agreement. "Nothin' much," she said causally to everyone "Just need to have a few words with the owner of that black bull n' cart out there," she finished simply, nodding her head to indicate where the cart was.
 
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