Of Cowboys and Kings

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Diana, Jan 12, 2011.

  1. See our OOC to join!

    Hiring Kidnapping Convincing people to join her country take two.

    Careen Calliente had an agenda as she stepped inside the shitty little watering hole this colony town considered a bar. It was the second time she was going to try it - getting people to join her country, that is. Apparently, trying to form your own country from the ground up was a hell of a lot harder than it seemed. Sure, she bought an assload of pure unadulterated land and had a fortune to start building and supplying with. ...But you kind of needed people in your country for it to BE a country. Couldn't be a Queen without subjects, right?

    So here she was. Looking around as she glanced at partially filled tables and a half empty bar. The place was more like a shack than a real establishment. Mostly built with wood and supplies that could be grabbed right here on planet. Though, the bartender clearly could afford to import a lot of variety for his booze shelf. That's how most of the colony towns were here on Moraz9. There wasn't even a major city on this planet yet. The closest place to "real civilization" was probably several solar systems away. Most places were built just like this one. It made for a really ecclentic and unusual combination of old school hand building and modern super tech. Careen loved it.

    Last time Careen walked in to a bar, she just straight up announced she was building a country and needed followers. That didn't work out too well. She managed to get one sucker, but she had to physically drag him out of the building. Not exactly a smooth way to start things off. THIS time, Careen walked up to the bar and sat down. Rapping her knuckles on the wood frame and raising a single finger for a shot to drink. After a sip, she was (trying) to casually eye the people around.

    "Soooooo... If someone owned, say, forty-five percent of the land on Moraz9 and needed, oooh. Lots and lots of people to help establish a town, city.. business. Perhaps a small personal army... Where would a person like that find some willing volunteers?" she spoke, directing it at the bartender but making sure she said it loud enough for everyone in the place to hear it.
     
  2. Celon came through the doors slowly and quietly. few people stopped what they were doing to look at what had just entered the bar. those that had stared for a long time, as the Amonkiran stood in front of the door, watching. few people on this world had ever seen an Amonkiran. they were rare, even on earth where they were most abundant in human space. he was tall compared to most humans 6,3 he wore a pair of jeans. he didn't wear anything on his feet, no human made a shoe that would fit on what looked something like a dogs foot. He wore a black shirt under a black duster. A long rifle hung on his back, everyone who knew guns knew it wasn't just some ordinary cartride firing rifle. it was a railgun.

    Celon saw who he was looking for. A man playing cards with six other people. he walked up to the table they were playing at. The men did not take notice of them. Celon reached into his duster and pulled out a piece of paper and placed it before the man he had been looking for. "what the hell is this?" the man asked. Celon just stood and stared at him. the man picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. he glanced at the contents, he looked confused. "what the hell does three seven seventyseven mean?" Celon stared for a while until the man looked back at him. " It is the symbol of the New Vigilantes." celon said. his voice was deep and rough"You have been marked for death."

    The man bolted upright."you threatnin me freak? Do you know who i am?" Celon tilted his head"Should I?" The man seemed to become enraged at the comment."I'm John Mavrick, I rule moraz9. No one dares challenge me." Celon continued to stare" Why so angry, I just asked a question. and in fact i do know who you are, I knew from the moment I saw you. You are John Maverick, the murderer and rapist of hundreds. the man who killed every lawman on half this world. You have gained the attention of the New Vigilance Committee, and now you must die."

    Maverick drew his gun, he was going to end this stupid creature. before his gun left his holster though, celon hit him in the face with his elbow. maverick hit the table, which collapsed under him, the other men who were with him began to rise. Celon grabbed the closest by the arm and pulled him closer. No one saw that Celon had pulled out a switchblade. He slid the six inched of cold steel between the man's ribs. he let out a scream and fell to the floor. Celon then quickly rwached into his duster and pulled out a submachinehun. he gave a quick burst of rounds in the five remaining men. he stood over Maverick now. he put the gun back."You cannot fight fate forever." he said to the man lying in front of him." I will make sure you will never harm anyone ever again." he pulled out a pistol, it was an old style revolver, although it was obvious this one used very large bullets.

    "You will pay for this you son of a bitch!" Maverick said through gritted teeth."Eventually." Celon replied. he aimed right in between the mans eyes. he slowly pulled the trigger. the round from the gun completely tore off mavericks head. Celon holstered the weapon and calmly walked out of the bar. Leaving a dozen confused and frightened patrons behind.
     
  3. Klaani walked into the bar, ducking for the low door frame as she looked around the inside. She had passed some other being on the way here, but hadn't thought much of it until she saw her target already dead. That had bothered her. She had been promised a damned good pay on that bastard if she had brought him to the client. They had wanted him alive, or not at all.

    Which meant she had just lost a LARGE sum of money.

    Her left eye twitched and she tossed her braid over her shoulder before approaching the bar, taking a seat next to some human brat of a girl. She then ordered a strong drink, not something a normal stomach could handle. The bartender pulled a bottle from the shelf and uncorked it before taking out a glass, akin to the one the use for whiskey, and poured a thick, sludge-like black liquid into the glass, a gray foam forming as he poured, filling it up to the brim juuuuuuust right. It had a smell to it that was sharp enough to singe the eyebrows off of someone, and as he slid it back towards Klaani, she looked at it for a moment, and then looked back up at the bartender for a moment, she quirked an eye at him and he nodded quickly, getting what appeared to be an orange ice cube and placing it in the drink. The reaction was immediate, the drink quickly turned a sort of heather-green in a chemical reaction, and it appeared to now be carbonated.

    Now that the drink was properly prepared, Klaani chugged down the glass, and sucked on the cube for a moment while she thought about ideas on what she could do next. How she could get her next buck. She thought about her other three clients, which weren't paying too highly for their requests.she would have to probably go back to them and tell them that complications had come into their targets and she'd need higher pay to do their work. She then spat out the cube and it spun in the bottom of glass for a moment as she watched it.

    What now?

    Then she heard the brat next to her trying to talk to the barkeep about.... what now? She was trying to make some sort of community? She almost scoffed, but then thought against it... Could she work this angle to help herself?

    She gave a sidelong glace to the girl and then turned to face her, crossing her legs as she moved. Klaani was going to attempt to be business-like as she conversed with this girl.

    "You? Establish a town, in place like this?" Klaani raised a brow at the human as she placed a finger back in her glass, a fingertip pushed the orange ice cube around for a moment as she paused and then the looked up at the girl. "The people here are low-down degenerates and the only big business ventures around this part is drug deals, hit jobs, and slave-trades. What makes you want to start a place, here?" Klaani spoke with disbelief coloring her voice.

    "You saw what happened to that bumbling idiot at the table over there....Why would you want people around here for your little... colony?" Klaani asked, her voice a little louder as she continued.

    "Either way, you'd do nothing but get yourself into trouble... What would anyone get out of establishing some sort of city with the likes of some girl?... This place is dangerous. Go home back to your little planet, human. You'll get yourself killed." She muttered as she finally picked up the glass again and poured the collection of leftover liquid and the dissolving ice cube into her mouth. There was a loud, crisp crunching sound as she chewed up the ice cube while looking at the girl.
     
  4. "Put'em down" a man grunted as he flicked the ashes from his cigarette, and placed his cards on the table gazing around the room at the group surrounding the table.

    Misa was included in the small group of high stakes gamblers. Here you have the money to play, if not you're simply killed, and its like you've never existed. The hand she held wasn't terrible, but it wasn't amazing. Possibly she could win if the other players have crappy hands. 'Maybe I have a chance.....' Her life depended her cards. This round she was playing for all the money she had lost. With a deep breath she placed her cards on the table. Her stomach churned, and her head was swimming. She wasn't sure if it was from the alcohol or from nervousness. In a way she enjoyed this feeling. The feeling of not knowing what's going to happen. Of your life hanging in hands of fate. Of always seeming to narrowly escape.

    "YES!" a man across from her yipped and jumped from his chair before grabbing at the money from the table as the others moaned and groaned from their lost.

    "Oh shit....." Misa grumbled as she buried her face in her hands.

    "Oh shit is right missy! You owe me a lot of money." the man glared at him "You owe ol'Antony a few grand." He pulled out his gun and pointed it at her "And I better get it soon or I'm gunna come a knocken at your door, and it won't be a friendly visit either."

    With a sigh Misa leaned back in her chair and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at Antony "How about we go down to the bar and I buy you a drink and talk things over about payment. I can probably get the money wired to me from a few people who owe me money." it was a total lie. She didn't have any money hidden away, nor did people her owe her anything. It was simply a way get him drunk to the point where she may be able to slip away.

    A crooked grin quickly took over Antonys lips. He gathered his money and slipped it into his pocked before tipping his hat. "That's mighty kind of you." He replied as he walked across the room and yanked Misa from her chair and dragging her towards the door. "I'll see you fellows around." with a simple wave he exited the room to the outside world dragging Misa by the arm, heading down the street towards the bar. "Maybe you can pay me back in other ways Miss Misa." He suggested as he eyed her up and down.

    'Sick.....' Was all that came to Misa's mind. "Don't worry." she insisted "I have the money."
     
  5. At the opposite end of the bar was a small stage, where an employee swept the surface and set up a stool in front of a microphone. To the left of that stage was a woman tuning an acoustic guitar while she waited for her time to perform. She was dressed in her usual attire, which consisted of tight blue jeans, her tall, brown boots, a petite blouse and of course, her cowboy hat. This particular hat was special; it belonged to her Father. Even though he wasn't the most supportive of her decisions in life, he was an inspiration. Much more than her Mother was, for sure... Anny would rather shed her own blood than have this hat taken from her.

    "A'right, boys 'n girls! Here's Annette Walters!"

    Once she heard her name, she felt her heart skip a beat. No matter how many times she's performed, she still got that minor feeling of stage fright. Of course, when she got up there to sing, that would go away in an instant. Anny felt at home in front of a crowd of people, especially at a bar, since that's where her career began. It was nice to be able to relive old times... She'd savour this until she had to go on another tour, or record another album.

    Her boots clunk against the floor as she made her way to the little stage, taking her seat on the stool. The microphone was already the perfect height, so she smiled, looking over the crowd before speaking,

    "Howdy, all. I'm so glad to be here!" Anny tilted her had after her exclamation, while making a charming smile. She was pleased to see a variety of people here... Most of the bars from her past were all human, yet when she toured different world, some were entirely alien. This place, there was a mix of both. She wasn't a cowgirl out of place, after all.

    With a pick in her hand, she ran it over her guitar strings, which played a perfect sound. "Gonna start ya'll off with a song called Take Me Back to Summer," she announced, her eyes sparkling in the lights as she began the intro with her guitar.

    For those who were there to listen to her sing, or decided to get up from their solitude to be warmed by her voice, she began an upbeat song that involved some of the greatest childhood memories she ever had during one summer. It was how she started off all her shows, and would go into the more somber moods, if not just a slower, happy song. No matter what the song was, she put her emotion into every word. She intended to continue singing until she had to retire due to old age.
     
  6. celon stepped out into the daylight. He was used to killing, it didn't bother him in the least. He pulled out a small device. It was similar to cell phones the humans used to use decades ago. He selected a name and watched as the image of a man appeared on the screan. "It is done. When will the funds be transferred to my account?" The man smiled"i saw your work. bar security feeds are very insecure, I couldn't help watch him die." Celon's expression didn't change. It was common for employers to hack into security systems to watch their targets die. it was a way to help insure they weren't getting cheated."You avoided my question. When will I be recieving payment?" The man frowned"Well Celon the thing is I really don't want to pay you that large of an amount." Celon became angry"This is not the time to negotiate. The job is done. The man is dead. I want payment in full." The man smiled" I'm not negotiating a new price Celon. i am downright not paying you. We emptied your account as soon as Maverick died, and I am sure you aren't carrying enough cash to get you off world. That's the way things go, maybe you and your empty headed kind will finally learn that the universe isn't such a nice honest place after all." with that the screen went black.

    celon stood in the same place for a short time. Fianlly he turned around and reentered the bar. he walked up to the bar and sat on a stool. he heard the woman next to him talk to the bartender, and then an alien said something to her. Celon didn't hear what it was he was too deep in his own thoughts."Bartender, i want a glass of echeron." celon said quietly. the bartender looked at him wqith contempt"You think i'm gonna serve you after what yopu did?" celon shot an angry look at the impetuous human. "If you want me to pay for the broken table then fine. But if you want to continue to be concious I suggest you give me the mind altering drink I ordered." that seemed to be enough for the bartender. he walked to a cabinet and opened the door with some effort. the cabinet was lined with lead and filled with bottles encased with lead. It was the cabinet for drinks that were radioactive. What Celon ordered was only barel radioactive, but it was still enough to interfere with human physiology. The bartender put the bottle on the counter with a heavy thud and left a glass. celon filled up the container and took a drink. He hated this world
     
  7. The Wasteland.

    That's what they called the stretch of the desert, on Moraz9. It was a giant waste. The land was cheap, with water wells buried so deep under rock and sand and earth that they weren't even worth the mining. The planet was populated, sure, but the population proved to be a hardy type. They were practical, rugged, no-nonsense. The type of people that just didn't want to be fucked with, else they just might fuck back.

    Wesley Colton was just fine with that.

    A dust trail kicked up behind the hoverbike he rode along the edge of a canyon in the Wasteland. It was the closest thing he could find to a highway, and he'd be damned if he relied on the wonky GPS of this planet. Getting lost in the Dunes was a quick way to die, and Wes had no reason to go out an die quickly, especially on this lawless planet.

    Wes had come to bring the law. He couldn't die before he set up Moraz9's first Frontier Marshal Office, and maybe, just maybe, stick around for the damn rock to be named something decent. Moraz9?! Maybe something from Old Earth's past, like... Juno, or Mjollnir, or... something. Anything but that bland old name. He'd be content with naming it after the planet's first official Panarch, or Monarch, or King, or President, or whoever wanted to take over and make some semblance of government.

    A conglomeration of shapes came up on the horizon as the canyon to his side dipped and became less death-trap and more actual running river. He could make out half-dead grass that grew up around the edge of the thin, trickling river. There had to be Water Farms nearby, so the colony town had to be a good place to set up shop.

    Wes slowed down the hoverbike tremendously as he neared the town-- it wouldn't do to go tearing through the main strip at several hundred miles an hour. He came to a crawl, barely skimming ten miles per hour, and peered around at the folk that went about their day to day. It wasn't bustling, per se, but the town was definitely populated. Wes tipped his hat to the first lady he saw and made a rather grim note that it happened to be the undertaker.

    Coming up on the cantina, Wes pulled into the proper bike-lock station-- one of two, it seemed-- and set his bike down. The motors of the 'lock station made a grinding sound, as if the mechanics were rusty and ill-maintained (which they probably were). Wes made a face, stepping down from the seat of his bike, and stretched out his back. He gave his numbed ass a pat or two and slid the goggles down from his eyes, dusting himself off as he took a few steps up and pushed the swing doors open of the bar.

    It was surprisingly lively. There was a beautiful woman singing in one corner, and he let his eyes linger on her longer than he should. He pulled his eyes away with some reluctance, consoling himself by letting her honey-like voice fill his ears, and took in the measure of the bar. It was broad, huge even, with two floors. One corner had a whole slew of gambling tables, one of which was caved in two with the messy gore of a man missing a head. Wes held back a face, keeping his features calm, passive.

    Stepping up to the bar, joining two very tall aliens and a smaller human girl, he threw a thumb over his shoulder as he spoke to the bar tender. "Didn't pay?" He asked with grim humour. Wes took up a place next to the human girl, feeling more comfortable being nearer to someone his own species-- he did this without conscious decision. Also, standing at this end of the bar put him closer to that gorgeous singer.

    "Double of whatever it is that's your House whiskey, and slip a little water in it." He tilted his head back and let his black hat fall down onto his back, hanging around his neck with a thin string. He wore a long black coat that hung just over his knees. It had once been a very fine coat, but it was covered in a thin sheen of dust that had settled deep within the fabric. Underneath that was a white linen shirt, loosely buttoned to show off his dark olive skin. His pants were also black, finely crafted as well, and his boots were well worn but quite functional, once more, black. The only hint of colour he had was a brilliant scarlet scarf that hung loosely around his neck, just underneath the goggles he had loosened from his face.

    The bartender settled the drink in front of him and, without a moment's hesitation, Wes took it up and gulped down the whole thing. He slammed the glass down and sucked in a long breath through pursed lips. It was strong.

    "Wow, good stuff," he said, turning to the girl at his side. It was one way of starting a conversation.
     
  8. Careen wasn't sure what she was more annoyed at. The bartender snerking at her instead of answering her question. The bitch sitting next to her and warning her about the 'big bad world' like Careen was some twelve year old fresh out of school. The Assassin taking out his bounty and the whole room not giving two shits. To make it worse, some drunkass gambler came busting through the bar doors dragging some wench with him. Here madam glowy-eyes was trying to give Careen the 'danger' speech, when there was a damsel right over there.

    She should have went with the flashy entrance today.

    "Sorry chicka, you're preachin' to the choir." Careen, who was trying very hard to give one of those toothy Hero grins instead of snarling at the glowy-eyed alien woman next to her, slammed her hands on the bar-top as she slid off her seat. The fact she didn't have the height of the woman, or the impressive vicious stature of the Assassin didn't phase her a bit. Careen had something way better. Balls of steel! ...Figuratively!

    First thing, first. Rescue the damsel and earn respect of the people!

    Careen turned away from the bar and walked three paces until she "accidentally" found herself face to face (okay, face to hairy man chest) with Antony the Gambler and his wench of the week.

    "Pardon me. Saaaaaay," she said loud enough for most of the people close by to hear over the music. Drawing attention was exactly what she wanted now. "Isn't that a nice piece of ass you've got there. Don't really look your type. You wouldn't be interested in sellin' her, Hmm?"

    SUMMARIEZ: A verbal middle finger to Klaani, a mental gripe about Celon killin' someone and no one caring, and Ms Careen steppin up to rescue damsel Misa!
     
  9. Antony glared at the woman standing in the way of the bar. "Little girl unless you have three grand to cover her debts, then you ain't gettin' shit. If a don't have that then step aside so I can get a beer, and go to the tables."His grip tightened on Misa, he was over joyed that someone might be giving him his money right this instant, and that equals more money at the gambling tables at the bar.

    Misa looked at her savior. 'Wow.....Some one on this planet actually cares about other people.' She was happy, but at the same time kind of mad. Slave life isn't exactly glamorous, but hopefully it will just be a working off the debt. Or maybe it would be a slavery then. What kind of slave then..... All this thought just kept swimming through her head. She hadn't even noticed that the bar went silent, except the singer, to watch them. Quickly she took a glance around the bar and noticed an unusual mix at the bar. 'A couple of aliens....This day is quick interesting indeed.' She looked at the girl in front of her and gave her a small smile before mouthing the words 'Thank-you'. The woman seemed like a hard-ass, but even if she was she was glad that she'd be her slave instead of being killed or being Antony's slave. 'I guess life cuts you a break some times....'
     
  10. Since this wasn't a regular venue, Anny had to keep her performance short. There were other performers, supposedly, and she didn't have the attention of everybody like she did at concerts. Even so... She would have liked to keep singing until her vocals hurt and her fingers couldn't play any longer. There was something cozy about this environment, however she still felt a little paranoid.

    "Thank ya," she spoke softly into the microphone, smiling sweetly at the people applauding her. Anny could recognize a couple of the faces, who were die hard fans of her. They were a pair of girls, sisters if she remembered right, so she saw no harm in it. The two of them received a tip of her hat before she got off stage, and then they went back to their sisterly conversation.

    The first thing Anny did was slip her guitar into its case, which was just material with a zipper. The gig bag was then slung over her back, the strap nice and secure. It felt odd to have to carry this on her own; none of her crew was here with her. This was far from heavy, though.

    Anny figured she should take her leave soon to someplace she'd feel safer. So far, her hotel room sounded like the best bet, but perhaps she'd come across some lovely scenery to enjoy. Being cooped up in a room by herself all day long did not sound very fun.

    "Water, please!" She stood at the end of the bar, knocking at the counter with her fists while humming to herself. It didn't take long for a glass of water to be slid in her direction, which she gulped down in a matter of seconds.
     
  11. Klaani watched the human brat and the others in the bar for some time, finally watching as the brat tried to save some girl, shaking her head at the scene. She just didn't understand that human woman. Why here, of all places? It was almost unheard of for some run-of-the-mill girl to just up and decide she wanted to make herself out to be some kind of leader for the masses. She then watched as some singer came down to the bar.

    All these humans. Like fucking flies.

    And here she was, trying to deal with the fact that her one big hit for today was dead....

    She could move up to the next day and try and reap in that reward, but it wasn't worth nearly as much as the messed-up shit today. Klaani groaned slightly before ordering another of the same drinks.

    Her glowing blue eyes swept across the bar before taking a sip of the drink, she lowered her head for a moment and shook it slightly. She had needed that cash.

    She downed the rest of the drink and then watched the others in the bar for a bit, silently.
     
  12. "Water?" Wes said loud enough for the woman at the end of the bar to hear. She had just finished that song of hers on stage; she had a heavenly voice, and wonderfully skilled fingers to go along with that guitar strumming of hers. He wondered if she was looking for fame, or if she simply enjoyed playing and singing?

    "Haven't seen a straight-water ordered at a bar in a pretty second, though," he eyed her with an appreciative tilt of his head. "I guess for a pretty girl, it ain't such a crime." Smiling, he twisted on his bar stool to face her.

    "The name's Wes. Just got here. You got a name?"

    Before he could get a proper response, he heard in a loud voice, not necessarily shrill but not really pleasant, either: "Isn't that a nice piece of ass you've got there. Don't really look your type. You wouldn't be interested in sellin' her, Hmm?"

    His face flushed a bit. The voice had been so loud and omnipresent, that he thought that it had been directed at him!

    "Now wait a secon..." He voice trailed off as he turned around and saw the short girl he had sat down next to staring up a towering man casting down an annoyed, angry look, another small girl in tow. What the hell was going on there?

    His attention away from the stunning singer (much to his quiet chagrin), Wes felt a certain pang in his chest and deep in his... gut. His instinct was screaming at him that violence was imminent, if something didn't happen, and quickly. Perhaps he should step in?

    Throwing back the flap of his black long coat, Wes let his hand rest on the pearl-handle of one of his zip-guns. It bore a striking resemblance to a revolver in Old Earth history, even worked similarly, requiring the pulling back of a hammer before squeezing on the trigger. The similarities ended there, however; the cylinder was actually a power source for a magnetic coil running up the barrel of the gun, and behind the cylinder was a tiny block of matter. Every pull of the hammer, a small chunk would pull away from the block to serve as the projectile, and the gun would charge up with a soft 'zipping' noise, thus the nickname for the gun.

    For all intents and purposes, the Old West Revolver looking gun was actually a coilgun!

    "We got a problem here?" Wes said loudly in a very commanding voice. His expression was severe. He had been pulled away from a beautiful woman, after all, and he was seeing more women man-handled before his very eyes!




    SUMMARY: Wes says hello to Anny before turning around and seeing Careen, Misa and Antony having a 'spat.' Angry and annoyed, he shows off his iron in a threat to hopefully force peace. Maybe.
     
  13. Max was in the bathroom, uncaring to what was happening in the rest of the bar at the moment. His other business concluded, he was more concerned at the moment with the red band around his neck, the contours of the rope faintly visible at the edges. It tingled lightly as he ran his fingers across it. "Not quite at your best." He said to himself, his voice still hoarse, a hoarseness he was starting to doubt would ever go away. He held one finger up in front of his left eye, slowly trying to track it through the foggy lens. Damn hanging. He wouldn't be having his problem if they'd done it right. Then again...

    He shook his head as he turned to exit the restroom, his grin toothy and skull-like, as he pulled his collar back up around his neck and tipped the brim of his hat down, pulling his duster closed around him as he stepped into a bustle that was not present just a few minutes ago.

    Chick the first was confronting some guy grabbing at the arm of another, an alien at the bar was doing her best not to be noticed, and another man at the bar was going for his piece. His curiosity was piqued now, as nonchalantly as he could he walked towards the situation, taking a seat at a table not too far, half-turned towards the mess as he leaned back, a thought starting to making it's way through his head as he watched Tony. Now he and Tony and one of the men who'd killed him had all gambled together, which was starting to make Tony a good place to go so far as leads go, although... not in this bar, he decided. That would just be rude to the other guests, making them watch Tony meet an old, "dead" "friend."
     
  14. Varkas

    Wrapping a gloved hand around his clear glass of whiskey, Varkas watched the goings on of the small bar with no particular interest apparent on his face. The man himself would more than likely not draw any attention to himself from his attire which gave most folks the impression that he was a duster like the rest of the inhabitants of Moraz9. Like most of them he carried his own little pistol grip of Law as well... Two to be exact, and both were nestled tightly against his sides just underneath his leather duster for ease of draw, and concealment. One had to be capable on the rim of society, and some of the worst lived on this floating rock people called home.

    His long black hair hung loosely over the front of his face, hiding his eyes as they carefully moved around the bar to dissect people for their worth, their courage, and their motives. Cataloging them in his mind for later reference, he lifted his whiskey glass to his lips, and took a large gulp from it, allowing his hair to unfold around his face for a brief moment, and then leaned forward once more, letting it curtain around his face. The man could smell the fights that were brewing and the blood that was racing. This was the kind of place he remembered growing up in, and the sensations in the air were comforting. Not as comforting as sleeping on a bed of money, but close enough for his taste... though sensations didn't pay for shit.

    The little altercation between those at the bar did catch his interest, as he rolled a small explosive through his fingers as it rested in a pocket. Dismissing the idea, Varkas finished his glass, and rose from his seat. Walking to the bar, he rested his glass rim down indicating he wanted another glass, and as he did, his free hand slipped out, and deposited a small crumpled piece of paper into Careen's pocket with such skill that it may have been teleported there. Varkas then took that hand, and lightly rubbed his neck as he waited for the bartender.
     
  15. Anny nearly blushed when a stranger commented on her order for a glass of water. She had favourite alcoholic beverages, but as a singer, she had to take good care of her vocals. Sipping water after giving a performance remedied the burning pain she felt in her throat, plus cooled her off. Hopefully he could see that...

    Just when she was going to give him her name--since obviously, he's never heard her music before--he turned around to a situation unfolding not far from them. She watched as Wes pulled out his gun, and then looked to the women who were getting involved. This, honestly, was terrifying enough on her end to get up and leave.

    She gently bit her lower lip, scraping off the layer of gloss that made it shine. A hand wrapped around the strap of her guitar bag as she sidestepped from the counter, trying to inch away from these people. These days, nothing terrified Anny more than an intimidating man who treated a lady like some property. Coming face to face with an space monster that wanted to eat her even sounded a little less frightening.

    What a terrible day to be without her bodyguards!

    With a timid smile, she tipped her hat to Wes, as well as the other gentleman who just walked into the bar. She rushed out of that bar as quickly as she could, heaving a relieved sigh once she got outside.
     
  16. Varkas

    With a muted sigh, Varkas reached into his pocket, and set his money under the glass with a modest tip. It looked like the man would have his work cutout with the yahoos waving insult, and iron, so he decided to take his leave from the establishment for the moment... probably return once it cooled down a bit, or perhaps have a chat with that Careen lady... since she was spouting off about building an army... or was it a country? Either way he figured she had money, and that was a good a thing as any to know about someone in his mind. As he turned around he noticed a guitar pick on the floor, and recalled that lady with the cowboy had had played some music. It was more than likely her's. Tucking a cigarette between his lips, he knelt down and plucked it from the ground as he began after Anny. He liked smoking outside anyways, and she was probably on his way... if not, then he'd have a pick to use if he ever tried learning that instrument.

    The door swung open as he entered the sun, and closed his eyes a moment. The light breeze blew the random strands of black hair from his face, giving it nothing to hide behind as his brown orbs looked right then left finally spotting Anny. Dragging his step so he didn't startle her, he extended his hand out, showing the guitar pick in the palm of his hand, and didn't say at hing... considering he couldn't, but she'd likely not know that. As he stood there, the red rim of his cigarette's ember began receding as he took a long drag then exhaling it through the right corner of his mouth, away from Anny.
     
  17. Klaani watched the commotion, and then as people came and left. Meanwhile, she kept trying to figure out what she could do with herself. She hadn't expected someone to get the jump on that prick before her, though, she should have known. So she ran one of her pale fingertips around the rim of her glass as she thought about what to do next. She was runnin' low on cash, and that one kill was supposed to have made her live REALLY comfortably for the next year or so, but no. Nooooooo, shit had to go the wrong way.

    She then decided to watch the human girl, Careen. She had intrigued her, and was at least worth watching for entertainment reasons. How would she fair against some sexist human pig who was planning on using a girl's debt to persuade her to use other methods to free herself from the mess she had gotten herself into. Perhaps if Klaani was surprised enough by the little human girl's actions, she'd be more than intrigued for what this girl had planned for this planet.
     
  18. Finally. She had people's attention. ...Er, sort of. A couple people's attention and that sure was better than nothing.

    Swallowing her desire to grin like a cat in a canary cage, Careen scowled at Antony's comment. "Three thousand? The little chicka is barely even worth one. Look at her! You can break her in one night!" Three thousand was a drop in the bucket to Careen. But paying all that cash right up front not only was suspicious, but it gave people stupid ideas to come try stealing her cash. She wanted her personal army constructed before she had to defend a fortune.

    "We got a problem here?" Somebody stepped up. The guy kind of looked like a Marshall. Dang Marshalls made her nervous, but it's not like SHE was doing anything illegal this time.

    Careen had to bite back another grin again. She motioned a finger at Antony and his damsel. "It could be a problem, yeah. He's got this snip of a girl, and I think 1500 would be a much more fair price. I bet that's way more than you'll get out chicka."

    Careen stuffed her hands in her pockets, with the intention to pull out a little cash for temptation. Her fingers came across a crumpled piece of paper. She masked her surprise, only casting a quick glance around the room before she left it be and pulled out what she wanted. Careen held up circular piece of metal. It looked like a coin, goldish in color but not gold. Something much more valuable! Here in the outskirts, credits and cash were never as useful as real tangible metals.

    "This is a Yetanese disc. Y'know one of them fancy little do-dads they use to boost the power in their runner ships. Worth way more than I should be offerin' but I'll let you have it if you hand her over."

    SUMMARIEZ: Careen offers something precious for the precious! >:3 and finds that paper in her pocket.
     
  19. A smile spread on Antony's lips. If their was one weakness of his, it was money. His eyes gleamed as he looked at the golden disc. He took a quick glance at Misa before looking at the coin once again. Chuckling, he reached his hand forward to receive the coin "Sold." 'Ehhh.....This stupid girl probably wouldn't have paid me anyways.' He released Misa's arm before giving her a quick push in the direction of the girl and the marshall who had just stepped up. "She's all yours."

    Misa stumbled, but kept from falling to ground. "Jerk." she mumbled as she stood up and straightened out her hair and shirt. She looked at her savior. 'Yeah.....She doesn't look like a hard ass. Though I don't think I've seen her before, maybe she owns the bar.' She thought back, trying to see if she could recall this girl from any where before. With a glance around the bar she noticed that their commotion had caused a lot more attention then she realized before. "What a day...." She mumbled as she glanced around the bar again before watching the girl who saved her intently.
     
  20. A man showed up outside with her while she was standing there, trying to decide where to go from here. She looked down at his hand; it held one of her guitar picks. Anny made an embarrassed smile and reached out to take it, but then paused to close his fingers around the thin, triangular tool. She noticed how tiny her fingers were in comparison to his as she did this. For some reason, that was always something she noted when touching a man's hand. To not make him feel awkward, she pulled her hand away to slip it into the back pocket of her jeans.

    "Naw, you keep it. Thank ya for returning it to me, though."

    Anny had plenty more of those guitar picks in her bag, and even more back at the touring vehicle that dropped her off here. She studied Varkas for a moment, half smiling as he blew some cigarette smoke out of a corner of his mouth. He was polite; that much she gathered. What did puzzle her is why he didn't say anything. If he was just a man with few words, or just didn't care to talk, she could respect that.

    "I must have dropped it when I ran out. I'm scared by even the silliest of things," she told him a bit bashfully, looking to the doorway of the bar she exited. Honestly, Anny had no intention of going back in there, even if that situation was over with. Times like those made her regret the times she refused her Father trying to show her how to handle a gun and street fight.