<div align="center"><strong>-=Griffin Kingston - Captain - Avalon, en route to Buzzard Gulch to complete their job and trade the prisoners=-</strong></div><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z466/Corvus269/Characters/griff-2-headshot.jpg) (http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z466/Corvus269/Characters/Griffabs.jpg)</div><br/><em><strong>The Gamble</strong></em>had set down a safe distance outside of Buzzard Gulch (http://jsportsblogger.files.wordpress.com/2012/03/old-west.jpg), where he was to meet with the buyer of the transported cargo and close the deal. It was a small settler's community that strongly resembled a town from the Old American midwest of<em>The Earth That Was</em>. Giving a tug to the chains that bound his two prisoners tightly, Griff snarled with anger ans frustration over the recent events that found him here on Buzzard with two prisoners and a stowaway in tow on his way to meet with Abernathy, or so he thought, without any back up and most of his crew on another planet. Needless to say he was not in a good mood. He shoved the chains towards Small Fry as he came to stop few dozen feet away from the ship.<strong>"Hold this. Tightly. I'll be right back."</strong>He turned and marched back up the ramp to the skiff, climbing inside and igniting the engine. There were a couple of crates securely lashed to the back of the skiff with cargo nets as well as enough seating for six people plus the driver.<br/><br/>Griff intentionally revved the throttle, sending the loud roar of the powerful engine reverberating through the entire ship. Carefully, he guided the skiff down the loading ramp and pulled alongside Small Fry and her charge. He leaped from the skiff, rounding the front of the skiff and approaching the trio, with long, purposeful strides. Dark, brooding eyes cast another glance back to the cargo hold as if he was looking for something... or someone as he yanked the chains from the strawberry blond. He shoved the chained duo towards the skiff harshly.<strong>"Get your sorry asses on board."</strong>He climbed in with them, securing their wrists to the skiff's chassis before circling around and climbing back into the driver's seat before glancing over to Small Fry.<strong>"Well you just gonna stand there and look pretty all day or are you gonna get your ass in gear?"</strong>It was a completely rhetorical question as Griff had no intention of leaving her here unattended. After she climbed in, Griff gunned the throttle, even before she had her safety harness fastened, sending everyone  back into their seats.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>-=A half hour later - Entering the township of Buzzard Gulch=-</strong></div><br/>Buzzard Gulch was buzzing with activity as the settlers went about their daily lives. Griff slowly maneuvered the skiff through the dusty streets. Horse drawn wagons and men on horseback negotiated the busy streets alongside Griff and his skiff while pedestrians crossed here and there, picking their way through the traffic as they went about their business. Griff's arrival drew a few curious looks but nothing to be concerned about; Griff was no stranger to Buzzard Gulch. The skiff throttled back and came to a stop next to one of the taller, three story buildings. The bold lettering on the building's front exterior read,<em>OXHORN SALOON</em>.<strong>"Get out, "</strong>he said coldly, though he kept his eyes forward. There was a certain, unspoken warning in his words.<strong>"I might stop in for a drink later. I might be dead later. Time will tell."</strong>The young woman climbed out and Griff throttled the skiff back to life as soon as her boots touched the dust of the road.<br/><br/><br/><br/>