Scion: Legends of the Wild West - Part 1a: A Fistful Of Scions

[Ouroboros]

August 1875, The Town of Deadwood, Dakota Territory Badlands

The saloon was boisterous and busy. Saturday evening was the storm before the calm in Deadwood. Sunday the church bells would ring, their tolling punishing the wicked (who's hangovers would amplify the sound to painful levels), while the virtuous went to services. The saloon, the bordello, the gambling parlor; all would do good business this evening however. The wicked would play and the just would stay away. Which is all for the better. Myth is rarely made of the stories of the chaste and abstinent.

It was just prior to dusk, and things would get busier still before they became less so. Inside the saloon at round table covered in ratty cheap green felt Luke Njorling dealt the cards. The deck was his, the backs of the cards showed a mighty tree. Yggdrasil, the World, Asgard, and the underworld Hel all nestled in its roots and branches, or girded about its trunk. For the scion of Loki the cards were more than simple printed paper, they were a link to the chance itself, the power of Chaos. He dealt the next hand, seven card stud, nothing wild. It was a hand he would win because with a touch of his power he'd decided what he would deal before the cards ever left the deck. This hand wasn't fair, but this hand would ensure that the rest of the evening wold be ... mostly fair.

Main street was a wide thorough-fair of dirt, horse leavings, and wheel ruts left by the occasion wagon. Running through the dead center was first street, slightly narrower, but otherwise a near mirror of its companion. The crossroads was a broad square, not even a basic well marked the center of town. That a pair of Scions of Loa were both approaching the square was something neither was aware of but both would likely find rather unsurprising. The Loa and crossroads went together like booze and whoring. From the East Kentucky Cooper rode his horse at a plodding pace. This was a new town to him and its sights, such as they were, were worth taking in. Liv Jennings rode in from the South, her men flanked her. They rode with purpose, looking to secure room in the town's inn. They had ridden long and hard from Sioux City, fleeing from an angry rancher and his sons who'd had their plans rather abruptly ended.

Craig Rogers hauled the man who had been laid over his saddle down to the ground. He made little effort to brace the man's fall and he was greeted with a grunt as the outlaw returned to consciousness. Grabbing a handfull of shirt Craig hauled him up and shoved him forward like he was little more than a rag doll. The Sheriff's office was almost empty, a lone deputy lounged in a chair, his feet up on the desk. He looked up from the whittling in his hands and then stood. "Who's this then?" he asked, appraising the criminal first and the lawman second. Craig was unsurprised, Trig Coventry was not a man with a large price on his head, but he was a bad man nonetheless. Shortly he would be a bad man behind bars and Craig would be sixty dollars richer for it, money to spend on a night in a proper bed and maybe a drink or three. What more could a Scion of Thor ask?

Daena Saighead left her band of followers behind, they had camped their wagons at the edge of the town and now she and Paddy Niclaus were headed to town to get news and see if provisions would be available at this hour. They led a pony behind them, its bags empty save some coin. They approached Roberts' General Store which was next door to the saloon, the music, shouting, and laughing from the second greeted them in stark contrast to the professional silence from the still open general store. "Perhap we could stop in for a bottle ma'am? I'm sure the others would appreciate a stiff drink or two to ward off the colds nights?" Paddy looked at the saloon, his eyes bright at the idea of getting some time with a bottle of whiskey.

OOC: Deadwood was established in 1876 but I'm taking enough liberties in having gods and monsters, what's one more

[Trace]

"Why, thank you kindly, Elsa." Luke smiled charmingly out from under the brim of his hat at the saloon girl as she brought over his whiskey. The young woman smiled back at the roguishly attractive gambler as she sat down beside him, cosying up to her currently favorite patron and bringing her lips to his, her dark eyes flashing at the other players around the table as she kissed his cheek.

"You're welcome, handsome." she stage-whispered, the low neckline of her dress as she leaned over catching all eyes present. Even Luke, who'd promised her a cut of the profits for playing the part of arm-candy, spared the impressive cleavage a second glance before smiling ruefully at the other men, apparently flustered himself by her affections. Inwardly he was laughing at the expressions on their faces. Part of being a high-roller was image. Have the clothes other men wanted, the money other men wanted, and the women the other men wanted: that was the way to ensure that the clothes, money and women would continue to flow.

Besides, this game was almost as much fun as the poker itself.

"Well, I reckon I'll call too, fellas." he decided, noting the subtle disappointment in some eyes and the tightening of anger in others as he tossed in the coins and laid down his cards. "Full house: Sevens from heaven, and aces high never lie." Good-natured groans and a few foul curses met his revelation, and Luke grinned and pushed his hat back on his head as he raked in his winnings.

"Should know better 'n to play cards with a man named 'Lucky Luke'." One grizzled cowhand grumbled with a reluctant smile.

*Quorrrk! tokk* "Lucky! Lucky!" The harsh croaking voice overhead made everyone look up at where the gambler's raven was perched on the antlers of a stag's head over the mantle, it's shiny black eyes peering down at the antics below with the air of one that has seen it all and has been well-jaded by it. Cynical as only a raven can be, he preened his feathers for a moment, then eyed the group again and croaked "Lucky bastard!"

"Hush you." Luke smiled as he tilted his head right back, meeting the bird's eye before tossing up a piece of jerky with unerring aim. The large black beak snapped, and the raven subsided into grumbling satisfaction as it tore at it's prize. Shaking his head, the youthful gambler looked back at his fellows. "Sorry about that, gents. He gets darned feisty if he feels he's bein' ignored. I swear, his daddy must'a been a peacock."

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv tilted her head, blocking the red, bright rays of the setting sun from her eyes. Her men were tired and their horses were worn out, but she and Coby could still keep going. She had her divine heritage to aid her, while Coby was descended from a long line of horses who survived by their ability to keep going when predators stopped.

People stepped out of their way as they rode, partly to get out of the way of the group of people and partly because this was the Jennings Riders’ third visit here. Last time they’d been to Deadwood, the six of them had been riding down a band of horse thieves. They’d run into the varmints just outside Deadwood, and the resulting fight had drawn much attention. In particular, people remembered the slight black woman ending the fight with a single blow to the gang leader’s jaw, knocking the larger man to the ground. The local sheriff hadn’t been too pleased that he’d been shown up by a gang of black people but the wanted posters for the men had kept them out of trouble. The sheriff had friends, and their reception in Deadwood had been a bit cold after that. That had been several months ago and Liv had judged that things would have glossed over a bit. So they had returned to Deadwood, intent on taking a few days of rest while looking for the next challenge.

Coby snorted suddenly and tossed his head, neighing loudly. His head twisted to the side and Liv saw his nostrils flaring. “What is it?” she asked, her hand moving to the blacked bone sticking out from under her girth strap. The last time Coby had acted like this had been outside that ranch in Kansas, and that had been a mess.

Mare! her stallion said with another sharp neigh, his eyes showing white as he bobbed his head in excitement.

“Oh for… pull in your horns, Coby,” Liv snapped. “Get yer brains off the ladies.”

Froggy laughed. “Ya shoul’ cut that rip, stud’s never got his mind on his master,” the man said, his teeth white against his dark face.

“I ain’t his master,” Liv said. She saw Pete open his mouth and added, “Or mistress.” She patted her horse’s neck. “Coby’s a pardner.”

They entered the crossroads, and Liv pulled her horse to a stop. As Coby grumbled to himself and pawed the earth, Liv said, “Pete, go get us rooms. The rest of ya… let’s get the horses to the livery.” Her foster brother hopped out of the saddle and tossed his reins to Left. The massive man took the reins without comment, turning to follow Liv as she turned Coby toward the livery.

Mare! Mare? Coby asked eagerly, giving a half-rear that had Liv snarling under her breath as she worked to stay on his back.

“Calm down!” she said, wishing for once that her tough little horse had actually been worn out by their long trail ride. “We’ll get you a mare soon enough.”

Want the one I smell! Coby grumbled, prancing in place. Want her now!

“I’ll cut you myself, you crazy horse,” Liv snapped as she set heel to his side. With an annoyed wicker, Coby started walking again, his ears laced back against his head. Any other rider would have been worried about being thrown, but Liv knew that this was a temporary temper tantrum.

[Craig Rogers]

Craig muscled Coventry into the cell like he was a rag doll, and got the key to lock him in. He looked like a kid almost compared to the huge Marshal, and even the lone deputy was a little intimidated by the big man.

Craig nodded as he collected the bounty, "Let me know if any others cross the desk, I'll be in town at least tonight, perhaps abit longer, depending on the weather." With that he nodded and exited the jail.

He clicked his tongue, and Grunrir untied himself from the post. The massive Stallion walked along side him as he led him to the livery stables and smiled. "You'll get a good rest tonight, with any luck we'll both het to sleep in what passes for a nice bed respectively. Just come a running if you hear me call."

After seeing to Grunrir and making sure the stablehand was well paid and would see to the big horse, Craig made his way to the Inn. He booked a room for the night and nodded, prepaying helped immensely.

He left there and made his way to the Saloon, looking to unwind abit before turning in. The ride hadn't been easy and his quarry had decded to struggle.

He dusted himself off before entering the saloon, and almost immediately heads turned to his direction. Most people had never seen a man as tall as he was, add the shock of Wavy dark brown hair and steel grey eyes, and he was an imposing figure. Those that noticed the Federal Marshal's badge on his breast turned away quickly. He walked over to the bar and smiled.

"Whadaya have Marshal?"

"Start with cold Beer. I'll hit the rest later." The bartender poured a beer and Craig took a long draught of it. "Nothin quite like a cold beer after a day out in the dirt and sun."

[Ouroboros]

Kentucky didn't know it but his choice to stable his horse at the nearby hotel was only partially his. A slight tug on the right thread of fate brought him into the stable yard right behind Liv and her men. The woman handled her horse well, talking to it like she knew its mind. She and hers dismounted, the extra horse was saddled up, must have been a sixth in their party, probably gone inside already. Kentucky dismounted as well and waited while the grooms set about getting the other horses taken care of. One of the woman's companions was kind enough to hold the door open for a piece while Kentucky trotted over to the hotel proper.

Craig turned round and leaned on the bar, one elbow resting on the polished wood. He took a look around and the first sight he saw was a bird, a raven if he knew any better, perched on the stag over the wide fireplace. His grandfather's symbol was nothing to be ignored. What was he meant to take from this sign? He took a long drought from his beer, like father like son, Craig may have been big and strong but he wasn't the sharpest spur in the saloon.

Luke gathered his cards up and with a flourish randomized them before passing them to the next dealer. The surly fellow wore black. Black pants, shirt, vest, coat, and a flat topped, black hat that was damn near a cowboy hat. He was the second tallest guy in the room but lean, almost skeletal. He was also black as fresh coffee. He laughed, deep and melodic, giving Luke and eye before calling, "Draw. One eyed jacks and the suicide king are wild." He dealt quickly, his long thing fingers flicking the cards about the table. Luck picked up his hand and winced, it looked like the contents of a consignment shop, nothing matched.

Daena and Paddy mounted the steps from the dusty street to the wooden boardwalk and into the Roberts'. The place was typical of a frontier town general store except for the quality of items. Deadwood was sitting near gold and the miners needed to spend their hard earned shiny. Fancy guns, and pretty dresses, other such baubles that would earn a hefty profit for the owner were front and center, the feed and groceries in their stacks behind were there for those who's pockets were less heavy with ready to spend wealth. The proprietor tipped his hat to Daena, "Evenin' Ma'am. What kin I do ya for?"

[Craig Rogers]

Cowboy looked at the Raven carefully. It looked normal, but he had a feeling it wasn't. He looked to the barkeep. "Who's raven is that? Don't see birds like that around these parts much?"

He assumed the bird belonged to one of the men in the cardgame at the table. He watched the game with limited interest, he was a dead draw at games of chance, and he didn't feel like wasting any money on foolish card games. It might have to last awhile before another half-decent job showed up.

[Trace]

The raven cocked it's head sideways and stared back at Craig, clacking it's beak a couple of times before going back to tearing at the chunk of jerky in one claw.

Luke kept his eyes on the room, his fellow players, and those coming or going through the saloon's door while he loafed in his chair through the first round of betting. The big marshal at the bar was duly noted. Luke quickly ran through any possible trouble he was in that might have gotten a marshal after him and relaxed a little. Most of the folks who wanted him didn't want the law involved. Still, he'd watch the big guy. Lawmen came in two varieties - straight or bent - and neither type had any sense of humor in his experience.

"You bettin', fancy-man?" the tall black man asked him with a toothy grin. Luke shrugged and grinned back.

"Ain't got nothin' better to do." He quipped pausing to take a swallow of whiskey. As the other man laughed that deep laugh again, Luke flicked a few chips into the pot and laid down three of his cards, keeping the Queen of Spades and the Ten of Diamonds. Sometimes Fate was fickle, and in those times it was best to let Her have Her way. If he was meant to fold, it'd become obvious when he picked up his three replacement cards.

Till then, he'd just keep on romancing that fickle woman and hope her heart melted.

[Ouroboros]

The raven alighted on Craig's head, settled itself and cried, *Quorrrk! tokk* "Big an dumb" The big marshall waved his free hand up over his head and the bird leaped into the air to avoid it before settling on Luke's head and pecking him once. *Quorrrk! tokk* "..." The large black man shot the bird a look that quieted the animal and it gave a twitch before hopping down, stealing a gold coin from Luke's pile and flying up to hanging lamp above the table. The coin tumbled out of its mouth as it said, "Penny for the fgerryman."

Craig heard the bartender mutter under his breath, "Damn bird." As he wiped down the bar with a rag that looked dirtier than the bar itself was. Luke spared an irate look at Quoth before looking at the new cards in his hand. Added to his queen of spades and ten of diamonds was a 3 of clubs, a six of spades and a card that didn't belong. The king of hearts stared back at him but its body was skeletal and its head was a madly grinning skull. As Luke watched the figure raised a spike and drove it through its own skull. Luke blinked and the card was back to normal, a standard king of hearts, a wild card giving him a pair of queens. "Dee bet is to you ladies mon," the black man said, looking at Luke.

[z011]

As they walked in to the general store, Daena nodded and tried to keep from grinning at her friend. "Aye, I think that might be arrangeable, Paddy. The better we do here, though, the longer we can take a sit at the saloon." The lilt of her words marked her as easily as her name, but it was softer than her companion's, tempered by the years of her travelling and the need to sometimes be other than who she was.

Daena smiled and stepped up to the counter, answering smoothly, "We're lookin' for supplies. Feed, beans, flour, cheese if ya hav'it." She motioned for Paddy to look around and see what all from what they needed the store had.

[Trace]

Luke nearly folded. The omens weren't good, the hand wasn't great, the lanky black-skinned stranger was giving him the willies, and Quoth was acting even weirder than usual. He opened his mouth to declare his surrender... then stopped and glanced upwards at 'his' raven to see the large black bird regarding him keenly from it's perch on the hanging lamp. For a long moment glossy black eye and stormy grey eye studied one another. A ghost of a smile curved the young gambler's lips, and he reached out to pick up the gold coin the raven had dropped onto the table. The smile widened, becoming a glittering, devil-may-care grin as he carelessly tossed the gold coin into the middle of the table where it landed with a heavy clunk.

"Raise." he said to the tall stranger, looking that man dead in the eye with that grin still in place. This was right, somehow, whether it led to him winning or losing the hand. In a game where people played the odds, Luke was the salmon swimming against the flow driven by some deeper instinct. He tipped his hat to the gentleman. "Over to you, sir."

[Ouroboros]

"Ayup, we got all that." Gerald Roberts pulled a small slate out and a nub of chalk, "How much you gonna need of each?" Daena and Roberts discussed and haggled, and Paddy, working with one of Roberts' sons, gathered the various goods and sundries. "Ya wan' my boy ta' d'livah this all to yer camp?" Daena thanked Roberts' for the offer and told the lad whom to speak to, then paid the elder Roberts with a few of the bills she had with her.

"Now, how abouts we get a drink or three?" Paddy asked with a gleam in his eye as he and Daena walked outside into the gathering dusk.

[z011]

Daena chuckled, a low and throaty sound, and nodded. "A'right, Paddy, ya earned it. And so have I."

She hitched up their horses and made sure their supplies were secure before heading into the saloon, Paddy in toe and looking like a boy a Christmas morning. Daena gave the establishment a good once over, decided that the whiskey here would have to be better than the beer-like swill she could smell coming off the tankards around the room, and made a line for the bar. She settled in while the barkeep filled her and Paddy's orders, watching the other denizens of the room with a relaxed curiosity.

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv sighed with relief as she bolted Coby in his stall. With a soft grunt, the stallion began to paw up his bedding, showing off his strength and virility to anyone walking by – or to those who understood the secret language of horses. Sighing, she turned to watch her men finished settling their horses. Like her, they insisted on doing the care for themselves.

Their pile of goods from the packhorse was on the floor of the stable aisle. Liv grabbed her pack and stepped outside, peering around for her brother. She caught a glimpse of a familiar coat, ducking into the saloon. “Tarnation,” she cursed, staring at the saloon. All she wanted was a nice bath before bellying up to a bar and having some tongue oil. She’d had nothing but Tarantula juice on their last stop, but with the ‘reward’ they’d earned from that sheep rancher, she was prepared to get tight on something fine.

“Did he even get our room first?” Froggy asked, hovering near her.

“Only one way ta know,” Liv said, squaring her small shoulders and hefting her pack. “Spots, wait at the hotel.” The lightest-complexioned man in her gang nodded with resignation. He was usually the one not sent on an errand into the saloons since he still felt the draw of Firewater. Liv had tried to let him drink again, but he always overdid it.

Dust showered off her chaps and boots as she walked into the saloon, blinking as she adjusted from the blistering sunset outside to the dimly lit interior. She looked around the room, wondering where Pete was. Sighing, she walked up to the bar, not too far from the lawman and caught the barman’s gaze. “You seen a man, younger than me, come in a moment before me?” she asked him, her dark eyes searching his.

[Ouroboros]

Originally Posted By: Luke Njorling

"Raise." he said to the tall stranger, looking that man dead in the eye with that grin still in place. This was right, somehow, whether it led to him winning or losing the hand. In a game where people played the odds, Luke was the salmon swimming against the flow driven by some deeper instinct. He tipped his hat to the gentleman. "Over to you, sir."

With a broad grin he matched Luke's raise and flopped another fifty dollars onto the pot. The large bills elicited a groan from the other four men in near unison and they quickly folded in succession. That brought the bet right back around to Luke. He was already in for near twenty dollars, and the pot must be worth up beyond one hundred now. "Your bet. I do not think your luck can beat my luck. Do you care to find out?"

The big man chuckled again, deep and resonant, and above Quoth shifted on his perch, *Quorrrk! tokk* "A fool and his money ..." The other four men barely paid the bird any heed, they were watching a face off for more money in a single pot than most would likely see over two months of hard work in the mines.

*****

Craig too watched with interest, his hand hanging close to his gun. Just in case. It would hardly be the first murder over a poker game in the west and most definitely not the last. Craig's eyes watched swept across the room as a woman and a man walked in through the swinging doors. Their fair complexion and red hair marked them as Irish. Seconds behind them a coffee and cream colored woman dressed in men's clothing for the trail walked in with a purpose. By design or Fate she ponied up to the bar right next to him. “You seen a man, younger than me, come in a moment before me?” she asked the bartender.

*****

"No ma'am I ain't but I can't say as I git 'nuff time ta gawk at all the fancy an' not so fancy folk who walk through ma doors." His reply was done while pouring whiskey into a shot for one drunk and pulling a beer from a tap for another.

Liv frowned and thanked the man. As she turned to scan the room a second time she heard a deep basso voice say, "Your bet. I do not think your luck can beat my luck. Do you care to find out?" Followed by somebody's pet raven dispensing some learned phrase. Involuntarily her eyes tracked to the voice's owner and Liv sucked in a harsh breath. She knew that man, new him very well indeed.

*****

Paddy and Daena approached the bar and waited for the bartender's attention. He seemed at full duty, pouring drinks almost continuously, stopping only to take money, or slowing to talk to a customer. Over the din of the piano and the chatter they didn't hear what the black woman asked him, nor his reply, but they were gladdened when he came to them next, "Evenin' what ken I git ya?"

*****

Kentucky slipped ahead of the black folk as they discussed something and the woman went storming out into the street and across to the saloon following on of their party. The saloon sounded like a nice idea but he wanted to drop his saddlebags and wash the trail dust off at the very least. It wasn't like the saloon was going anywhere.

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv pushed off the bar and sauntered over to the poker table, her hand feeling at the base of her pack. Through the cloth, the knobby end of Papa's Thigh was a comfort as she drew closer to the men and their game. She drew eyes as she went, for despite the unlady-like attire and trail dust, she was still attractive. She seemed oblivious to the stares.

Stepping just to the side of the black man, she said, "Didn't expect ta see ya here." She left off the proper greetings; she wasn't sure he wanted to be known, or wanted their relationship to be known.

"I'm everawhere," he drawled at her. He seemed neither surprised nor overly emotional to see her, which was a bit annoying. It'd been a year since they'd last run into each other; he could at least pretend to be happy to see her.

"Well, I shouldn't be surprised ta find ya in Deadwood," Liv added, crossing her arms.

"Chile, hush up while ya papa is takin' dis white man's monah," he scolded her, even has he grinned at her joke. "Jus' be ah moment, iffin ya can hold ya tongue dat long."

"Women," one of the other men at the table laughed. "Wives, daughters, don't matter. All of 'em yap like them dandy lap dogs."

Saturday's Lord shot the man a whithering glance. It was clear to see that it was fine for him to chide his daughter, but no one else got that privilege. The man froze, then slunk out of the chair with a mumble that might have been an excuse or an apology.

Apparently, he didn't mind people knowing, but Liv held her tongue. Her father was one person who never got the sharp side of her wit. Liv leaned back against the wall, watching the hand play out. Her eyes settled on the only player left in the game, and there was sympathy in her dark gaze. Poor gump don't have a chance in Hades an' he don't e'en know it.

[Trace]

"Ma'am." Luke raised his hat to Liv, acknowledging the arresting beauty as she came over to the table before returning his smiling grey eyes to her father.

"Sir, you know as well as I do that there's no such thing as luck. There's skill, and judgement, and a large spoonful of bluff and hope. But what poker holds for the honest player, more than anything, is Fate." The Trickster's son tossed his fifty dollars into the pot without looking away from Le Baron's dark eyes. "You're right, sir, to say that my luck can't beat your luck. But only a fool plays to be lucky. So lets give Fate her due, hmm? I call, sir." He turned over his cards with a simple flip, and smiled as something funny struck him, his eyes lifting to regard Liv and her father.

"The Black Maria and the Suicide King. A pair of royals at the table."

[Ouroboros]

The Baron flopped his cards face up. Aces and eights both pair in spades and clubs with a jack of diamonds for the kicker. At that time the hand wasn't yet notorious, but in barely a year a thread of fate would be cut short while holding that hand, and it would forevermore be known as the Dead Man's Hand. "Two pair. Do seem tha lady luck don't bow 'fo' Fate." He laughed and tumbled his tall hat into his hand scooping the money into it. With a shake of the hat and flipped it back onto his head as though it were empty; no sound betrayed the illusion.

Looking Luke in his eyes, he said, "You may be da chile o' yer fahtha, but you ain't yo fattha's son boy. You do well remembrin' that." He tipped his hat to Luke and then turned to Liv, "Com' wit me mah dearie chile. Yo' papa has words for you an' dis place ain't the sort fo' dis kine talk." He offered the young woman his arm, which she took, and together they left the saloon. As he passed he tapped the man, who's comment he had earlier rebuked, on the shoulder.

"Well don't that jus' beat all?" the man asked his fellows at the table; two days later he would be dead with a smoking bullet hole betwixt his eyes.

[Trace]

Luke watched father and daughter leave, then shrugged and smiled at the other players as he gathered up his cards. "Seems as though that gentleman's plum cleaned me out. At least of everythin' I planned to lose this night. Till next time, sirs." Tipping his hat he rose and made his way to the bar. A loud flutter of dark wings caused those still at the table to duck reflexively as the raven swooped down from his perch to land unerringly on the card-shark's shoulder.

*cawk* "Next time!" it muttered loudly, then tokk-ed quietly to itself while eyeing the others at the bar sardonically. Luke signaled the bartender for a whiskey and slid onto a stool, one hand idly shuffling the beautifully backed cards while he drank, eyes distant and deep in thought.

[Craig Rogers]

He watched the hand intently and sighed when the big black man flipped over his winning hand. He didn't say a word until the man who'd lost a stake as big as his bounty sat at the bar. "'S alota money to lose n a hand out in these parts." Craig nodded. "Still, Yer Raven's right. There's always next time. Fate can be cruel, but also very kind."

The Scion of Thor had no clue who's son he was talking to, and it didn't matter, nobody'd done anything wrong yet.

[Trace]

Luke glanced sideways at the large man before smiling wryly and giving a dry chuckle, one hand still shuffling the cards between his dancing fingers . "She's neither, Marshal. Or both. Mainly, though, she just is."

A thud sounded as the nattily-dressed gambler tapped his cards once on the wooden bar's surface to neaten the stack before tucking them into a specially-sewn pocket on the inside of his red satin-lined coat. Smiling in a more friendly fashion, Luke offered the lawman his hand.

"Luke Njorling, lately of points East of here. Marvellous magician and peerless prestidigitator." He grinned toothily. "I've also been known to play cards from time to time."

"*tok-tok* A fool and his money!" the raven cackled from its perch on his shoulder. Luke rolled his eyes and passed the raptor-sized corvid another piece of jerky.

"And this here's Quoth." he said by way of introduction. Exhibit A peered at Craig beadily, then busied it's beak with the toughened meat, muttering to itself.

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv's eyes lit up with surprise and she took another look at the loser of the game. Dark, discerning eyes swept over Luke for a moment before her papa drew her attention. Still, after she'd taken his arm, she glanced back again, memorizing his features. He may have found it flattering, but for Liv, it was purely defensive. She'd had issues with men of paler complexion than herself, and she wanted to remember his face if he came after her.

Liv pulled her hatbrim low with her free hand as they stepped out into the dying rays of the sun. Her men saw her; she heard their chuckles as they misinterpreted what they were seeing. She'd been known to pick up 'friends for the night' before. Only Pete knew better; she saw her foster brother pale and glance away uneasily. He knew her father.

"Liv!" Froggy shouted. "Pete was in the hotel!"

Liv nodded and called back. "I'll be w' ya boys in a second. I need to exchange some words with this here gentleman. Go on in; I'll folla' ya." The Riders nodded and went inside as she turned back to the Baron. "How ya been?"

"Ded," he told her with a smile that chilled her a little. "T'aint no odda way for da Baron ta be."

"Sho' enough," Liv agreed. "I'm guessin' you ain't up for small talk?"

He chuckled. "Small talk is fo' small people, and Ah ain't small people." By chance, they had become more or less isolated, and the Baron looked at her. "You reddy to be mah daughter?"

Liv took a deep breath. "That's my job," she said softly, feeling uneasy. "What do ya need, Papa?"

[Craig Rogers]

"Nice to meet you Luke. I'm Craig Rogers, one of a handful of Marshals out this way."

He smiles. "I'm not much for games of chance, seen too many men die over a fistful of dollars, are some imagined slight. You mentioned the art of prestidigitation, there really a demand for that sorta thing out in these parts?"

[Ira Sagebrush]

Discovering himself to be white again after washing off all the trail dust and whatnot, Kentucky found it desirable to acquaint himself with the locals.

If I's lucky, perhaps some girls will have lost their way 'round these parts...or even that black bunch...they had themselves a woman could plow ma fields any day.

He tucked in his shirt and shook out his jacket, even rubbed some spit over his boots to give them a nice shine. He idly stroked his 'beard' which was much more a mustache and soul patch with assorted stubble elsewhere.

Ken-Tucky! You are a damn fine man! Godly even!

His ego thoroughly stroked and chuckling at his own immense wit, he left the hotel, donning his hat as he turned for the saloon, fully intent upon a night of drinking and whoring.

Well, well, well. If eh t'ain't her...and being set upon by such folk. She'll be so grateful for a rescue, surely she'll fall for a roll in the hay wit ya Ken-Tucky. Go git er now.

Nodding to himself, he strut up to the pair and nodded, sticking his thumbs in his belt, "Mornin'! How're we all this fine, fine evenin'?"

[Ouroboros]

The Baron smiled, showing stark bone-white teeth, "Mah chile, whut ah need is no what ah be heah fo'. No sugah, I be heah fo' whut de world be needin'. They's a man insi'e. He be gettin' all kine sloppy drunk. Dat' boy he saw sumtin no mortal sh'u'd haffta." The Baron smiled and gestured around them. Liv noticed that they were standing smack in the middle of the town square, such as it was. More importantly it was dead center in the crossroads, the significance began to weight on her.

"Deary chile, ya be reddy fo' dis. No will ya be alone, dere are udders heah, 'cludin' that white boy who los' all his mo-ney jus now. Ya' gon need dere he'p ya will. Ya' trus' dem as ya ken and 'till ya canna'. Specially dat white boy, he be standin' at his own crossroads.

"Ya go in dere an fine de man, he be call Mick. Ah tink yo be knowin' whut ta do afta dat. Ifn ah be wrong ah be sure dat yo' new band be able ta he'p out." The barron looked up, as Kentucky Cooper exited the hotel and smiled again. "De firs' o' yo' peers be comin' dis way. I do reckon he be tinkin' to git hissef inta yo britches. Fate don' much care fo' lovin or ruttin' ya be sure ya' know dat Fate be putin' him heah to he'p ya' first, to sex ya ... well dat no mah binnis."

Sticking his thumbs in his belt the newcomer greeted father and daughter, "Mornin'! How're we all this fine, fine evenin'?"

Samedi laughed, "Mo'nin' an' evenin'! Ya hav no idee how right ya is boy! De start an de end o' t'ings'. The Baron leaned over and gave his daughter a kiss, "G'bye mah chile, 'till we meet nest." The man righted himself and drew himself to his full height. He smiled at the two young Loa and as he did the flesh melted from his bones leaving a grinning skeleton standing in a suit that had become a tuxedo. With a snap of his fingers, a sound like a dry branch being broken, the god evaporated into mist that blew out of the crossroads on an unnatural breeze.

[Trace]

Luke laughed and took a silver dollar out of his pocket before making it dance along his knuckles like a silver fish leaping in and out of the water. "You'd be surprised, Mr Marshal sir. Towns like these, they got a lot of folks who dig and grub every day for their gold and silver." He snapped his fingers and the coin disappeared in mid-leap, vanishing before the Marshal's eyes. "They got wealth, but they don't have a lot of wonder on a day-to-day basis." Rolling up his sleeve, Luke opened his hand wide and showed Craig the absence of any coin, front or back as he continued his patter. "A good show and a lively performance can make it rain money, and bring laughter and smiles to dusty faces." With a flourish of the same empty hand, Luke reached into the big lawman's collar and drew his hand back, holding the coin up.

"And o' course, the ladies love a man who's good with his hands." Luke finished, grinning broadly.

[Craig Rogers]

"Nice trick."

He motioned for another beer for himself and Luke and smiled. "You ain't lyin' there. Things are kinda dreary as of late, there's new-fangled technology and such, and that's all well and good, but it don't really help most people. "I haven't seen a real show since I left San Francisco, close to a decade ago." When the beer came he nodded and offered one to Luke.

"For a great display of Sleight of Hand, and to take off abit of Fate's edge from earlier."

He took a long pull from the beer and nodded. "I just finished another job myself, looking to relax at least a day with any luck before heading out again."

There was a weariness in his eyes and in his voice. "Though there's never a shortage of bad people doing bad things, my work's never really done."

[Ouroboros]

"That'll be eighty cent's marshal," the bartender said as he passed the beers over. Craig nodded and dipped his hands inside his coats towards his wallet. His eyebrows rose as he found the entire wallet, and his recent bounty, gone. He looked down to the floor and around the general area. He didn't see it amongst the sawdust and spit on the floor.

[Craig Rogers]

"Well Damn. I know I just had my wallet. He looks to the bartender, Can you start a Tab and I settle with you in awhile?" He had already paid for his first beer and now, Luke had walked up done his trick and his wallet was gone.

It took alot of self control to not rush into an assumtion of guilt, and bust skulls. He'd see how it played out. If he'd run a tab fine, if not, someone was going to learn a lesson the very Hard Way.

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv listened to the rolling, musical cadence of her father's voice, knowing that each word brought them closer to the moment that he would leave. She didn't love him, not the way she loved her foster father. But she respected him and felt better with him around. Part of that was his tutelage and care after freeing her. It didn't stop her desire for him to stay around longer.

At his mention of a peer, she glanced at the man approaching. Her father's mention of where the Scion's interests both embarrassed and unnerved her. Unbidden, thoughts of Max came to mind, and she swallowed hard.

Her father's kiss felt too final to her, as if she wouldn't see him again. Part of it was just the portent of the mission; part of it was the sensation that their relationship had just changed forever. After the Baron had faded away, she turned and looked at the stranger. Thrusting her hand out like a man - rather than offering her knuckles - she said, "Liv Jennings. May Ah have the pleasura yer name?"

[Trace]

Eyeing the bartender, Luke could see the beginnings of a big firm negative forming on the man's face as Craig asked for a tab and felt compelled to cut in.

"Tell you what, marshal. Let me buy you a drink. I've got some money left after that ol' devil back there cleaned me out, and it'd be a shame to see a hard-workin' lawman run up a tab over a lost wallet." Luke said with a smile, tossing a five-dollar bill over to the bartender. "Let me know when that runs out, friend, and until it does get my pal the marshal here whatever he wants." He looked at Craig, his brow furrowed over the grey eyes as he pondered something. "Any idea where your wallet might be, marshal? You sure you had it right now, or did you have it before you came in? Anyone bumped into you or jostled you at all?" He smiled and shrugged. "Back east in the big cities, a man learns to keep one hand on his wallet in a crowd."

[Craig Rogers]

"I had it a minute ago when I paid him for the first beer." He nodded. "I didn't speak or get close to anyone but you and the Bartender." There was no accusatory tone in his voice.

His suspicion was there in his mind, but for the moment, Luke had gotten him out of a bad situation. For that he wouldn't accuse him of something he wasn't sure he'd done. He thought back to while he watched the hand of cards, trying to remember if anyone'd come up behind him, but drew a blank.

"I mighta dropped it, but I know I had it a moment ago to pay for my beer." He was agitated, it was his money that he'd worked for, and he felt his pockets for holes.

[Ira Sagebrush]

Kentucky got whiter if that was possible, "Was that...ya know, maybe its best I don't inquire..." he said, his southern drawl thick on the tongue.

Mayhaps I is seein' things. Been a long day on the road. Fool, ya know who that was...but why was he seekin' relations with this woman?

"A pleasure t' meet you Miz Jennin's." Kentucky said, instinctively taking the offered hand. Then he noticed what he was doing and seemed to stumble over himself socially, the breach of manners too much for the young man. "My name....is...Ken-Tucky Cooper...I do declare..."

He was stuck in an internal battle of whether he should bend over and kiss her hand or not and the visual made him look much like a hen pecking at the ground. Finally, he just dropped her hand and took a step back, removing his hat as he bowed with a flourish, "Expert guide to the West, savior of the trail and harbinger of opportunity." he paused and inflected each descriptor as though the force of his words would imply further sincerity.

"Would you do me the honor of joining me for a drink?"

She can't decline, t'would be improper to refuse company such as mine.

[z-Olivia Jennings]

She could still feel the touch of her father’s lips like a kiss from the grave – which it was. It was odd to feel that cold impression in the warm sun, while the very living man before her engaged in social niceties.

In mere seconds, the awkward charm of Kentucky had caught Liv and Papa’s lingering impression faded. The slightest of smiles crossed her lips as she watched Kentucky bow and describe himself. He was still white and therefore somewhat unsettling, but the former slave wasn't sure she'd met anyone with this mix of self-conscious appeal before. Also, throwing him off-balance was fun.

“Ah would indeed like ta accompany you fo’ a drink,” she told him, watching him smirk at that a little. “But first, Ah need ta git ta my room and purdy up. Ah’m dirtier than a pig in slop after two days of riding. So Ah believe you’ll have to walk me ta the hotel and wait a spit. After all, Ah’ll need someone to accompany me ta the saloon, as it ain’t proper for a lady to enter alone.” Never mind that she had just done that; it was amusing her to watch him try to help her do a proper social dance. She considered offering him her arm, but thought he might see it as her saying he was a woman and be insulted. Without waiting for him to agree to escorting her – knowing that he would – she took his arm and started to steer him toward the hotel.

“Don’t worry Mista Cooper-Ah-do-declare,” Liv assured him as they started to walk, “Ah’ll just be two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”

[Ira Sagebrush]

"That'll be right fine, Miss Jennin's," Kentucky agreed, "A quick splash always does good after a hard day in the saddle."

He was more than happy to escort the fine woman across the street, no matter the odd picture they drew in the process. She was a beauty and had contact with Mister Spooky Saturday. Fate couldn't have plucked his banjo string harder if she had tried. Not to mention the black beauty had agreed to a drink.

Hope she ain't related to no giants.

The few steps to the hotel did not take long, especially at the hour when most business was no longer being conducted...honest business that is.

"I shall be steadfast in my duty, just don't take long, from the rustlin' I here, whiskey'll be gone by the time we get there!"

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv left him in the tiny lobby; Pete rose out of the couch and fell into step with her. "Who's the pale-face?" he asked her softly as they went up the stairs.

"Someone like me," Liv murmured back. Pete automatically glanced back, even though they were up the stairs and out of sight.

"How like ya?" Pete asked.

"Don' know," Liv drawled, as Pete pointed her to a room. She opened it and scanned the small space. "Ah'll have ta find out."

"Sho' 'nough." Pete jerked a thumb down the hallway. "We're down the hall, inna big room."

"Go ta the Saloon, Ah'll be along shor'ly," Liv gave him a smile and said, "An' tell the boys ta have fun. They've earned it."

Pete gave her a smile and left, and Liv ducked into her room. She unrolled her pack, taking out the single dress she owned. The dress was simple, with long sleeves and a high neckline. The skirt swept to her ankles; it was made of a red cotton dyed with little yellow flowers. White lace tipped her sleeves and her neckline, revealing this to be her Sunday best. Setting it on the bed carefully, Liv stripped and turned to the water pitcher and basin. She splashed some water in the deep bowl and sprinkled in some rose water. The sweetened water was splashed on her face and hands, covering the areas that would be visible.

Moving quickly, she changed her undergarments to those more suitable for getting gussied up. The small ankle boots had her cursing as she used the hook to button them closed. She took more care pulling on the dress, taking care with the nicest piece of clothing she owed. One of the women she'd helped had made this for her as a thank-you. Once she was in the dress and had tiny buttons done up the front, she combed out her hair and pulled it into a loose bun. She wondered if Kentucky would still be there; she would prefer the company rather than not.

As she walked down the stairs, she found him still in the small lobby. "Mista Cooper, thank ya kindly for waitin'. Ah hope this here establishment has some good food." This time, he was faster than her and had his arm out before she could take it.

The Saloon was next to the hotel, and it was a short walk to the building. Just before they entered the room, Liv looked up at him, smiled coyly and asked, "So which one was yer divine parent? Mama or Papa?"

[Ira Sagebrush]

Kentucky stopped dead. "Come again? My ears are a might full with sounds of the trail...did you say 'divine'? I can't say that I know a lick 'bout anythin' such as that...Why do you ask?"

He was obviously nervous about the subject, but was managing to hold a smile. However, he was sweating quite profusely for the temperature of the evening air all of a sudden.

[z-Olivia Jennings]

Liv looked at him, her own jovial mood faltering a bit. Did he not know what he was? That was impossible. Papa wouldn't have named him as Scion unless he had been gifted with his divine gifts. Had he somehow forgotten, perhaps through a Titan's treachery? What was he playing at here?

For a long moment, Kentucky found himself being scrutinized by eyes as dark as grave soil. Despite her youth, there was an ageless quality to her eyes that was a little spooky. After just seeing her dealing with the Baron, it was all that more unnerving.

Liv saw nothing in that nervous face to help her, and she conceded the moment. All she knew at this moment was that her good mood had gone up the spout. Kentucky found it a relief when she glanced away, saying, "Nevamind, then. Let's get somethin' to eat, and ya promised me a drink. I have a man ta meet, so let's not dally. Might even have time for a bit of a good ole hog-killin' 'fore I have ta retire." Sadly, Papa's mission meant that she wouldn't have the luxury of getting as full as a tick tonight.

She stepped into the bar, and Kentucky was forced to walk with her, be dragged or release her. She was holding on just firmly enough to make the last option difficult. It had gotten dark while she'd been changing, and she found it easier to adjust to the saloon this time. She glanced around the room, looking for someone who looked to be a 'Mick' and was putting away serious amounts of Tarantula Juice. She let Kentucky guide her to a table or the bar, her attention on her task.

[Trace]

Luke patted Craig on the shoulder companionably. "It'll turn up, big fella. And if it doesn't? Why, I'll help you get that money back." He said this exuberantly, as though taken with the idea. "You'll see, Marshal. There's no-one better at makin' money than Luke Njorling, strike me blind if it ain't so, sir!" The raven cawk-ed derisively, and Luke wagged a finger at it. "Hush, beaky, or I'll make some lady a feather-laden hat out of you."

Turning his back to the bar to regard the other inhabitants of the saloon, Luke studied them drink in hand for a long moment. The red-headed lovely over there was as Irish as potatoes, as his adopted father used to say. A man only had to look at the pale skin, green eyes and red hair to know that. She was watching the other residents as well, and when her gaze fell on him Luke gave her a smile and lifted his glass in her direction. She had the look of a travelling woman, which had potential. If the young son of Loki had to skip town in a hurry, he might as well attach himself to an attractive set of skirts to do so.

"C'mon, big man. There's some fine company to be hard here tonight." he said jovially to Craig before his attention was drawn to the other two as they entered, and his cloud-grey eyes narrowed a little over the smile as he watched the Baron's daughter with... some other guy who looked as though he were a fearful sinner being led into church rather than a saloon. Interesting. Catching the dark-skinned woman's eye, Luke once more raised his glass, nodding courteously with a small smile on his lips.

"Fine company, and interestin' too."

[Ouroboros]

It might be expected given the time and place that finding a drunk who was drinking heavily would be all but impossible in such a place. As it turned out Mick was easy to spot. He still had his dusty miner's clothes on, including a pair of heavy leather gloves tucked into his waistband. The leather vest with a crossed shovel and pick axe emblem of the Sweetrock Mining Company didn't hurt in the least either. Nor did the bottle of whiskey he had in hand and was drinking directly from like it was a canteen and he had just walked out of the desert. He was short, with hair that may have been brown, may have been red, and bushy sideburns that almost met on his chin, but instead stood apart as though belligerent to each other. An odd little bowler sat comically perched on his head and completed the picture.

He finished the long pull from the bottle and with hands that shook and wobbled put it down on the bar, empty. He hailed the barman and through slack lips and slurred speech managed to order another bottle which he paid for with a ten dollar bill and a few coins. He seemed to lean heavily on the bar as though it was only its support that was keeping him on his feet.

[Craig Rogers]

Craig nodded. It coulda been worse. At least he'd taken care of the essentials already. "Sure, I don't think we can get into too much trouble in a place like this."

He too noticed the young Irishwoman, and the attractive young woman with dark mocha skin and tipped his hat in acknowledgement. The gentleman that entered looked exactly like it, far too clean to be from here.

"Just where would you like to start, pardner?" He smiled, wondering exactly what he was agreeing to do.