Jump to content

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


Ouroboros

Recommended Posts

Daena settled in at the bar, letting Paddy have a few drinks, but keeping an eye out that it didn't become a few too many. The men that smiled at her received a polite return, the green eyes picking out little details with a practiced air, but she stayed quiet. She was watching and learning, wondering if this little town was simply one more speck on the trail, or someplace that might be a start or at least a pointing in the right direction. She loved her life of travel, but travel without a direction to her destination was beginning to wear thin for her. Paddy swallowed down his whiskey like fish discovering the ocean and seemed little bothered by esoteric thoughts.

She watched the exchange between the cardsman and the lawman and fought down the laugh that was threatening to draw the two's attention. She'd seen such exchanges more times than anyone in the caravan other than her could count; she might be mistaken, but she doubted it. Luckily, women had a place to put their coin that man risked at least a beating if not a hanging for going for without permission. Not that proper ladies, homebodies all of course, would know of such things.

She sipped at the beer she'd ordered and watched the room dance about itself.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • Replies 156
  • Created
  • Last Reply

Kentucky found himself being escorted, instead of the escortee, but it didn't bother him much. The initial reaction of the enjoyment of the situation disappeared with her dark gaze withering a hole to his inner being and he felt it was time to dance a two-step and get back on her right side, lest the Baron return.

"My humble apologies Ma'am, if I did offend," he started, as he took them to one of the last open tables, glancing at her from the corner of his eye to judge her reaction, "If I did partake of some action to make sour of Mr. Saturday, it was not my intent...Did I mention how lovely you look? That dress done suit you like a butterfly in a field of flowers."

He smiled as he held a chair for her and a hand out for her to hold as she sat down, as was proper. He had stopped worrying about the social implications of how it looked, a southern white boy and a black woman, but the was the West, where most rules were cast aside at best and pissed on at worst.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

He got another sharp glance from her when he mentioned the Baron, but it was again as dark and unfathomable as before. She choose not to comment on that - for now. Perhaps she would address it later. "Thank ya, Mista Cooper," Liv said softly. "A compliment like that from a gentleman such as yerself is a true treasure." It might have been laying it on a bit thick, but he was the kind to seem to enjoy it. She took his hand, his skin warm on her bare hand, as she let him seat her.

Before he could sit, her eyes fell on Mick again. "Mista Cooper, Ah have a bit o' bizness to conduct, and if ya'd help, Ah could be done with it that much fasta. The gentleman over there, the one workin' hard ta put away his oh-be-joyful... Ah need ta speak with him. Would ya be so kind as ta see him over ta da table and introduce him formally ta me? Then..." Her dark eyes danced with a hint of merriment as her lips curved in the barest of smiles. "Then you and Ah kin have dinna."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I hope she isn't plannin' to eat the po' man.

"I'd be happy to oblige." He said, nodding and smiling with as much charm as he could muster. His stomach was rolling at the thought of cannibalism, but he tried to sound like the idea was the next best thing to a Christmas Dinner.

Miss Jennings was obviously a minion of Death, and he felt that somehow he'd been horns-waggled into doing her bidding on account of his fear of Death. If she wanted this man, he wasn't going to just hand him over. The Mistress of Saturday could do her own fetching, deserved as this man was making it seem to be.

Kentucky hoisted his pants and set his coat right as he sauntered over to the bar and the drowning rat. He stretched his neck as he held the lapels of his coat before he tapped the man's shoulder as he leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"See that thar woman, all gussied up and outta place at yonder table?" Kentucky pointed as their heads turned in unison, "I do believe she's of a right mind to kill you this night, and if I're you, I'd be unhitchin' and makin' quick to put some miles 'tween me and 'er."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The drunk's head lolled toward Kentucky, his glassy eyes trying in vain to focus. "Yauesh uouah shahy eynk?" The nearly smashed the fresh bottle to his lips eliciting a grunt from himself before he uprighted the bottle and began to suck down the contents. Amazingly only a pair of small trickles at the corners of his mouth allowed any spillage, drunk as he was he was still plenty able to suck down the hooch.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kentucky waved a hand in front of his face in a vain attempt to curtail the smell of pickled human assailing his nostrils as he suddenly stood up and took a step back. "Dear God, man!"

He tried to breathe through his mouth as he leaned back in to reiterate his point, talking slower, if just as quiet, and enunciating his words as he gestured once again towards Miss Jennings' table. "She wants to kill you. You need to leave town, ya hear?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Sehaellmeh? Wahhasuddoet?" The drunk hadn't even finished swallowing and liquor dribbled down his chin and sprayed outward as he mumbled. Hie eyes crossed and apparently settled on the man sitting on Kentucky's left shoulder. He hiccuped once and then repeated his earlier interrogative, "Yauesh uouah shahy eynk?" Kentucky couldn't understand a word and the guy hadn't so much as acknowledged that Kentucky had hands, let alone looked where directed by them.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Kentucky was young and impetuous and that was about the extent of his patience for a man that could not control the flow of liquor past his gullet. He had seen this far too often in the West and it frustrated him to no end.

His mouth twisted a curl of revulsion, at smell and behavior, he first smacked the bottle out of the man's hands and then grabbed the drunk's clothes at the base of his neck and proceeded to 'escort' him bodily towards the door. He held up his index finger in a mortal supplication for a moment of time towards his table as he exited.

"You sir," Kentucky started, busting through the saloon doors and into the chilling air, "Are in need of a bath."

With a last shove the man stumbled and then dove head first into the horse trough, displacing a good portion of water. Knowing the drunkard could very well drown without assistance, Kentucky walked over and grabbed the man by his hair, hoisting it up into the air.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

The drunk, hopefully one Mick ... something, staggered and rolled onto his heels. He looked at Kentuck and his two identical brothers. His arms spun as he tipped backwards and he tried to right himself. Over correcting he stumbled forward forcing Kentucky to grab the man once more, this time by the front of his shirt. "Wwhhuuaahhoooaahhtpher?" He asked the Kentucky brother in the middle and them promptly and violently vomited all over himself and Kentucky.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Sweet Jesus and the Disciples!" Kentucky exclaimed, letting go of the man and dropping back as he held up his hands in disbelief. He flung what he could off of him and then resolved himself to the best cure for a hot belly fire.

"I have tried to be civil, sir, but you have forced my hand." Kentucky grumbled, through nearly clenched teeth. His ire radiating off of him in a nearly palpable heat.

He grabbed him once again by the front and promptly slugged him across the face, letting him fall back into the trough, fully ready to duplicate this action as long as necessary to bring the man back to his wits.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Do try not ta break 'em." Liv's voice was an unpleasant reminder why he was going through all this trouble. When Kentucky turned, she was in the doorway, watching them. "Ah do need ta speak with him, an' Ah'd like ta do it befo' you pass him on to his Maker." She didn't seem bothered by the filth pooled around the probable Mick and Kentucky. "Kin Ah suggest some coffa?" she added softly. "It might git 'em up wit'out breakin' his jaw."

Liv wasn't phased by this; she'd seen it before with Spots. He'd been in much the same condition as Mick, though that had been over a woman who had chosen another. She hadn't tried dunking him, though; it'd been a hot summer in Carson City and she didn't want to waste the water in a time of drought. He'd still thrown up on her, so Kentucky had more than a bit of her sympathy at the moment. And she had planned in letting him handle this however he wished, but the sound of fist smacking flesh had brought her quick-stepping to the door.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Now correct me if I'm wrong Luke, but that was rather interesting. I couldn't hear what was being said, but to just haul a drunk out the bar, and from the sound of things, slug him pretty good, that's not exactly normal. I guess I need to see what that was about."

He was a Marshal, and in a moderately foul mood, he didn't feel like doing anything, but it was his job. He nodded. "Let me go see what this is about, and hopefully conclude it before it ends up in something I have to make arrests for."

He walked outside and frowned.

"Now, I don't know exactly who the two of you are, but as A Marshal I'm generally obligated to halt civil disturbances. Care to tell me whiy you're pounding on some poor drunk? Do you really feel so poor about yourself that you gotta take it out on somebody too srunk to fight back?"

Link to comment
Share on other sites

srunk? Kentucky raised an eyebrow in question to his thought.

"Marshal, you're all too correct, sir. I forget myself." the trail guide said, standing up and hoisting the man that was soaked, inside and out. "I believe I'll take up Miss Jennin's offer, she was wanting to conduct some business as it were, and I am in need of fresh attire."

He let go of the man as he stretched himself out and took on a proper posture, straightening his clothes. "If you wouldn't mind conducting him back inside, I shall return shortly."

Not waiting for a response, Kentucky walked off towards the hotel, to dispense with his ruined clothing as well as his flared temper.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Liv gave Kentucky a smile, one in earnest. She felt indebted to him now; he'd been helping her and gotten himself into an awful mess. "Mista Cooper, I am so sorry fer this," she said softly, but he was already walking away, clearly in a fury. Liv sighed through her nose, staring after him softly.

"Marshall, woul' ya be so kind?" she asked, turning to him. "Ah'm afraid that my frien' here has had a bit too much, and Ah need some help to git 'em back inside an' sobered up."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Of course." He grabbed the drunk and escorted him back inside, seating him at a table by himself. He nodded to the black woman. "Might want to get him something for that eye, maybe somffe coffee to wake him up some. I don't think he's gonna be much use to you in his current state."

He waited there to see what she'd do. He didn't have anything to help the guy at the moement, not with his wallet having gone missing.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Craig mostly carried the limp and soggy form inside and dropped him into an empty chair. It took a few tries but he managed to pour the gentleman into his seat in such as way that he wouldn't promptly slide out and onto the floor. As they entered, minus Kentucky, the conversation in the saloon abated as everyone took a moment to review the three. The quiet lasted less than ten seconds and ended as abruptly as it had begun, without any ceremony or signal the patrons simply resumed their drinking, gambling, carousing, and such. Mick held upright for less than even that time and with a groan his eyes rolled up like window shades and he hit the table face first.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Liv walked over to the bar, catching the barkeep's attention. "Ah need some coffee, please," she ordered, "as strong as ya ken git it. A whole pot o' it."

"This is what I got," the bartender said, putting a pot and a mug down on the bar. Liv wasn't sure it was strong enough, but she'd take it. She turned to see the man slumped over the table. Pa, ya shore dropped an ugla problem in my lap. Straightening her shoulders, she joined the Marshall at the table and started to minister to the sodden, drunken mass.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

His boots thunked as he stormed through the hotel to his room, already stripping off his jacket and shirt as he went. He burst through the door and threw his clothes towards the vanity. Lucky for him, the contents of his stomach were mostly alcohol, and therefore liquid and easily cleaned, but that made the stench all the worse.

Kentucky pulled his waterskin from his side, over his head and began to fill the basin normally reserved for washing. Once it was nearly full, he immersed his shirt in it and cut a small sliver of soap into it with his knife. Happy to let it soak and tend to it later, he moved on to his pants and jacket, which had luckily escaped most of the assault. They were bespeckled though, and he wasn't about to let the stench follow him across America, nor let it stain and create stories he would need to retell around a campfire.

Using a rag from his saddlebags, he used more water from his skin and cleaned them off, leaving numerous wet spots from his administrations.

He changed into his other shirt after he seated the waterskin in its familiar place and put his jacket back on. Before he walked out, he adjusted himself in the mirror, preening his moustache and straightening his clothes.

"Mind yourself now, Kentucky. There will be ladies present."

Content and satisfied and his anger taken out on soiled clothing, he gave his soaking shirt a good turn before he left and made way to return to the saloon. It had only been a few minutes, but the man leaving the hotel was a far cry from the man who entered.

Bursting through the saloon doors with dramatic flare, he grabbed his lapels and strode in with a confidence and manner that didn't fit one that was just heaved on moments ago.

He nodded to the Marshal and having spotted Miss Jennings, he walked over and presented himself humbly as she seemed to be trying to get the man sobered up. "Miss Jennin's. I would like to beg your forgiveness for my prior behavior, it was uncouth and ill-mannered, and for that, I am deeply sorry. If you would be so kind, I would be surely glad to assist you in any way I can to rectify our relationship."

Mayhaps help the man meet his maker if we're lucky.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Luke watched the cluster of folks around the table with an air of wry amusement. His deck of cards was back in his left hand once more, being shuffled nimbly as the young gambler sipped at his beer. He considered getting involved, considering that the Baron's daughter had an evident interest in this drunkard and that the other two gentlemen were likewise being drawn into the affair.

So why was this drunkard the focus of so much attention?

Making up his mind, he slid the cards back into their pocket and reached into the pouch around his neck. Pulling out a handful of small, yellowed bone tokens carved with strange (to most) symbols, Luke checked to make sure the bartender was otherwise occupied before he idly cast the rune-bones on the bar before him. Several landed face up, the red-stained glyphs seeming to glow for a second as Loki's get forced his still-mortal will to grasp their esoteric meaning, the runes imparting some of their lore to him.

Click to reveal..

Rolling Perception and Occult to cast Unlidded Eye (Magic 1; Hero p 154)

1d10=1, 1d10=8, 1d10=2, 1d10=1, 1d10=4, 1d10=5

1 success

1 WP spent

His working complete, Luke scooped the runes up and tucked them into their leather pouch before turning his enhanced vision on the group gathering around the drunk.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Luke turned away from the bar and saw. The raven on his shoulder squawked and stuck its head under a wing, saying in a birdlike mutter, "Fate weaves as fate wills." Luke could only agree as he saw the blazing aura of not just one child of the gods but three. The woman was one, that much was unsurprising. The marshal and the pathfinder that had just returned to the saloon were as well. There was a similarity between the lady's aura and that of the pathfinder, they were likely children of the same pantheon. Luke studied the marshal's aura and groaned, he was an Aesir as well. Fate weaves as fate wills, indeed.

Kentucky found Liv and the big marshal pouring coffee into the drunken sot. What positive effect that had was difficult to tell. Approaching the table only steps ahead of Luke, Kentucky made his apologies, "Miss Jennin's. I would like to beg your forgiveness for my prior behavior, it was uncouth and ill-mannered, and for that, I am deeply sorry. If you would be so kind, I would be surely glad to assist you in any way I can to rectify our relationship."

Mick seemed to stir at Kentucky's voice and looked up. His eyes seemed to clear with great alacrity and then his head swiveled toward Liv. Then back to Kentucky. Then back and forth a second time. "Sweet mutha ah tha Lor' Jeezus!" He all but threw himself backward and out of his chair, but was still far too inebriated to do more than crash backwards and crabwalk as quickly as he could away from Liv. "Don' kill me!" he cried, a look of terror on his features.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Liv smiled up at Kentucky as he returned and gave his pretty speech. "Thank ya, Mista Cooper," she murmured before turning her attention back to Mick. She was still trying to coax coffee into him when he jerked away from her. She watched with surprise as he scurried away from her, looking as though she were the devil herself. She'd been called that before, but generally, they had better reason than she'd given thus far.

"Kill ya?" she asked quizzically. "Why on earth woul' Ah want ta kill ya?" She spread her hands, looking innocent as only a lovely woman in a prairie dress can look. She looked more than a little annoyed as well; she'd been trying to help him. Granted, it was for her mission and the delays were becoming tedious. But she'd offered no violence, no reason for this man to react this way. Some of her anger leeched into her voice as she added, "Ya ha'ent even seen mah thigh."

Realizing that cryptic replies like that were less than helpful, Liv changed her stance. Her expression softened as she drew on her innate gifts of her heritage, calling forth the natural presence of her father. "Mick, please, no one here means ya harm. Do Ah look like Ah kin hurt ya? An' ev'n if ya fear little ole me, ya can trust the Marshall here, who won't let any harm come ta ya," she almost purred. She gave him a beatific smile and offered a petite hand. Despite the callous from a hard-working life, it was still an awfully purdy hand. Her next words were spoken with the utter confidence of one who should be obeyed. "Come git yerself up offa floor, and sit wit' me. Talk ta me."

Click to reveal..
Charisma + Command roll + 2 epic Charisma: 7 sux to convince Mick to sit with her and talk

6, 10, 7, 5, 1, 10, 2

Now that's what you call a good roll. wink

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Craig nods when she indicates him. "Let's just sit and talk a minute, I don't really see anyone in this group deciding to shoot up the place, so I reckon it's safe."

He waited for Mick to rejoin the table, now he was intrigued by the whole deal, and wanted to know just what in tarnation was going on.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"B-b-beggin yer pardon ma'am, ya don' look like ya'd hurt a fly, but tha' man there sed you was aimin' to shuck me ah my mortal coil." Mick made no move to get up or get closer to Liv or the others but he did point at Kentucky. "Affer whut Ah seen ... Ah don' wan' die miss, bu' Ah's afeared fer mah life." He spoke quickly with a thick accent and a thicker slurring of his words but he was clear enough.

Mick had barely had time to finish speaking when the bartender yelled over the din, "Hey! Y'all gon' take tha' ou'side or Ah'm gon' haffa make ya do so?" He had a short double barreled scattergun at the ready. but not raised for use. "Do wha' ya wan', jus' do eet ou'side aight?"

Luck studied Mick, trying to ignore for the time being the fact that there were four scions of gods in the saloon. There was something not quite right about the man's aura, something magical but he wasn't quite certain. He studied and scrutinized the twists and curls of the strands of fate around the man.

OOC: Luke, please make an Int+Occult check at +1 difficulty

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Damn." Luke said softly under his breath as he studied the hapless mortal, watching the strands of Fate spin and form before his eyes. "Ahh... damn." he muttered again, apparently staring blankly at the drunken Mick. Then he blinked and snapped back to himself, looking at the bartender and noting the definite way the man was gripping the scattergun.

"Tell you what sir, why don't I go on over there and try to get them to settle down some? It couldn't hurt, and I'm sure I can get them to listen to reason. No need for anyone to get thrown out of such a fine place." he told the apron-clad, scowling saloonkeep. That notable sniffed and harumphed, but tucked the gun back under the bar and waved Luke towards the group before folding his arms. Luke just smiled and, drink in hand, moseyed over to the table.

"Sorry to butt in ma'am, and gentlemen." The gambler said as he arrived at their table. "But that fine barkeep is in no mood for further shenanigans, and I think we all need to talk." Without waiting to be asked, the cocksure young man pulled out a chair and sat at the table, a merry smile crooking his lips. That smile stayed in place as he regarded the scared and damp man, placing a hand over his own heart in a gesture of faithfulness. "Trust me, fella, sitting at this table and talking to these fine folks is the absolutely very best way for you to stay alive and well. Without them-" he stopped and glanced at the others, then sighed. In for a penny... "Without us, whoever's chasing you right now is gonna get you no matter how far you run." Despite his smile, the young man's voice was calm and serious as he motioned at the chair across from him.

"So sit down, fella, and tell us your tale before the night gets any darker."

Click to reveal..

Int & Occult Roll

http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2457014/

Manipulation & Presence roll to soothe the bartender

1d10=10, 1d10=1, 1d10=8, 1d10=4, 1d10=5, 1d10=9, 1d10=1 +2 Auto succs

Using God's Honest to get the dude to believe that his best hope is the yahoos around this here table. wink

Click to reveal.. (ST stuff)
Bartender's Willpower 4 + Integrity 2

(20:43:34) (Ouroboros): 6d10

(20:43:40) ChatBot: (Ouroboros) rolls 6d10 and gets 1,8,8,7,10,6.

5 sux

Link to comment
Share on other sites

At Mick's words, Liv turned and glanced at Kentucky, startled. She was also surprised that she felt hurt. She was unable to hide that emotion, or the anger that fairly radiated off of her when the shock passed. When ya gonna learn, girl, that the only man ya kin trust is a man o' color? Liv didn't think of herself as racist, but she'd never met a non-colored who wasn't trying to screw her, screw her over or both at the same time.

Still, this wasn't the time, even if her blood boiled and demanded vengeance. Turning away from Mr. Cooper, she moved to take a seat at the table, looking as innocent as a schoolmarm at Sunday services. "Mick," she said softly, "Ah heard you saw somethin' awful. My daddy has asked me ta take a look-see fer him, see iffn I can do somethin' to stop whatever it was. That is why Ah wanna speak wit' you, and that's the god's truth." He'd never know - or ask - which god, which served her purposes well. She doubted that he'd draw much comfort from her swearing a vow on Saturday's Lord, assuming he even knew who that was.

Click to reveal..
Liv's Willpower to not blow her stack: 4 sux

1d10=10, 1d10=2, 1d10=10, 1d10=3, 1d10=5, 1d10=4

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Mick's head swiveled first to Luke and then back to Liv. He followed her cold stare at Kentucky. She don't seem like she's got it out fer me. An' the utha fella says they kin all help. Mick swallowed, grimacing as he did from the foul taste and the burns that made his throat sore. He nodded slowly and giving Kentucky a sidelong glance he fumbled at getting to his feet finally settling for pulling himself into a chair.

"Well ... all Ah kin say fer sure is they was huge. Bigger den any wolf Ah evah sawed. Ah was in tha wash wit' Billy, 'en we 'eard the udders screamin' bloody murder. We hoofed it back, an' when we gut to tha top o' tha ravine we sawed 'em.

"Bigguns they was. Mo' like ponies than wolfs, but 'taint no pony evah had jaw tha snap a man clear in two with jus' a bite." He shuddered and reached for the coffee. After a moment or two he continued. "We's shot at 'em wit' our Colts bu' the damn thin's seem' more like they'un was annoyed not hurt. We turn'd tail an' ran like the Debil hissef was affer us. Billy fell, bruk 'is leg like a dry twig. An' ... an' ..." He broke down sobbing into his coffee.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

I did apologize...hmph

Kentucky muttered, "Devilspawn..." as he stood over the table, feeling uncomfortable at the grown man's show of emotion.

It was far too convenient that he would actually have some rest and respite in this town. As luck would have it, it seemed that there was a plan and Kentucky was to play his part. Despite his unintentional blundering to start the foray. But then again, you can never be too careful when Death is on the line.

He glanced around at those at the table, then back to Mick. "I believe Fate is playin' us like a well-tuned banjo." he said, nodding.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Big wolves... sounds lika task for the Norse, not the Loa. Papa had tasked her with finding out about it, anyway, so she was going to do it. However, there was one issue to deal with first.

"Mista Cooper, please join us at the table," Liv said gently, masking her anger for now. Being all cross-patch wasn't helpin' Mick, and they needed him to give that last tidbit of information needed. Then they'd decide what to do, and she could find out why Kentucky had tried to knock her into a cocked hat.

Turning back to Mick, she tried to get the last piece of the puzzle. "Mick, where didja see the wolves? If we're ta do anythin' about it, we'll need ta know where ta start looking for them."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

After a few moments Mick regained his composure. He looked up through eyes that were rimmed and shot through with red, the man looked terrible. "Ah left 'im. Ah left 'im an' ran fer mah life, an' yah think yah kin do sumtin' about it?" He looked long and hard at Liv and the others, especially the giant marshal. He nodded slowly, "Was out by tha Long Drop Strike. We was at tha camp fer tha night. Ah only saw two uh 'em, buh tha beasties they was huge. Not reg'lar wolfs these no." He took a sip from the coffee again and his hand was seen to be visibly shaking.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Tonight?" Liv felt her stomach sink. If it had happened last night, then it was something that could wait until the 'marrow. If not, they needed to ride out immediately to have a chance of finding the wolves before they moved on. Of course, there was always the danger of hunting Titan-spawned animals in the dark. Liv had done it once before. The experience had left the intense impression never to do it again. Hell's bells - fighting Titan-spawned anything at anytime was questionable judgement at best.

Mick shook his head. "Las' night. Ran all th' way back." The terror in his face lend credence to the idea that he'd run back to town on foot.

Liv glanced at the others. "Shall we go with the sunrise?" she asked, assuming that as Scions, they'd all be interested in helping out with this.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Mick watched the two scions with a mixture of awe and horror. "Yer daft both ah ya! Dem monstahs'll eat ya alive. Dey slaughtahed twenny ah my minahs like they's was nuttin an' ran me an' Billy down. Dey's tireless, dey'll tear ya apart! Missy, unless ya gut an army up ya sleeve ah think ya should run fa' fa' away." He looked up at the big marsal, "Ya'd be wise ta do tha same young feller, Ah'd no wish such a fate on mah worst enemy."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Liv smiled, and if her smile was a bit brittle, no one remarked on it. "Ah may just have somethin' 'xactly like that," she murmured, more to herself than to Mick. Focusing on the man again, she added, "Don' worry... we'll be careful. Ah've done somewhat like this before."

Her mind was drawn back to that hellish night; the falling snow, the red blood staining it and the children screaming. With a slight shiver, she pulled herself back to reality, shutting the past away. "Rest assured, Mick, we're not makin' ourselves easy prey. Quite th' opposite."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"Yer crazy. Plum loony, tha both ah ya." Mick shook his head and gulped down the rest of his coffee. Getting unsteadily to his feet he said, "Outta yer head's you are, an' I'ma done wit' it. Nex' coach outta town an I'm so much trail dust." With that he turned, tottering drunkenly, and started for the door, leaving the young would be heroes to make their plans for the morning.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"How would you like to go about handling this, Ms. Jennings?"

"We can leave the old Foreman alone, and go out and find those wolves, but if it's a big pack we're gonna have a hard time fighting them with just us." It was unclear whether he was including Luke oand Kentucky in that assessment.

"We definitely aren't going to try to hunt them at night. That'd be a real fool thing to do."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

"O' course we won't go out tonight," Liv said, smiling prettily. "Ah and mah men have just had three days o' hard riding - we need a good night's sleep." Not to mention some fun. "And it isn't jus' us - I have some men who will help us. Five of them are pretty normal... but the others are not so normal. At the very least, we can go out an' see if we can handle it ourselves. Get an idea of their numbers."

She smiled at those remaining at the table. "Shall we have some dinner? Ah'm hollowed out, and am gonna need more than some bug juice for th' night."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

... the next morning.

A Scion's endurance is incredible but they still have limits and riding full out for nine hours on the back of a runaway horse was pushing Cherry had toward hers. When the horse began to slow Cherry was gladdened, when it slowed to a canter and then a walk and then still slower more Cherry knew she was nearing her destination. The terrain had become drier and rockier and when the horse stopped its slow walk and shuddered Cherry quickly dismounted. The horse dropped dead. Cherry put eyes to the horizon and to the north saw a camp, to the far south a town. Between her and the town two riders moved forward toward her and the camp beyond.

"Where am I?" She asked no-one in particular.

"Dakota Territory child. The two people approaching are scions like you, though not of our pantheon. Help them in their task daughter, they will need you." Cherry spun and caught the brief image of her mother in the sun's glare. Cherry blinked but by the time she was able to shadow her eyes from the sun the God was gone.

*****

Craig and Liv rode out alone. This would be a recon ride first and having five more men on horseback was going to prove counterproductive to both speed and stealth in observing these monstrous wolves. The two of them were chatting quietly as their horses picked their way over the rocky ground of the badlands. Half an hour's ride out from the little town they caught their first glimpse of a figure ahead of them. Fifteen minutes later they could see somebody standing by a fallen horse. Ten minutes after that they slowed to a stop in front of a petite woman in manly dress, standing by a horse that looked like it had run itself to death.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

People often spoke of 'divine intervention', but few of them had ever actually experienced it. Cherry had just become one of those few, and honestly, she hoped to never experience it again. Seeing her mother had been nice (even if it had only been for an instant), but the night of hard riding had been truly brutal, and she'd lost Chula because of it. The mare hadn't been anything more than an ordinary mundane horse, but Cherry had been fond of her nonetheless.

With a sigh of resignation Cherry bent down and began unslinging her gear from the horse's saddle. It wasn't much, just her pack and her rifle. But when she was done she also removed the saddle itself. Carrying it into the nearest town would be a pain, but it wasn't like they gave out saddles for free with every horse purchased, and replacing Chula would be pricey enough as it was.

Cherry would have begun the long hike into the town she could see in the distance, but her mother had just told her she was here for a purpose, and that purpose was the two scions riding towards her, so she staid put. When the coffee-skinned woman and her enormous companion finally came near, Cherry reached up with a free hand and lifted her straw hat off her head a bit, in sign of greeting, then replaced it back where it was.

"Mornin'", was all she said.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.


×
×
  • Create New...