Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Human Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Ciosa on 08-03-2013, 11:31:03</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>08-03-2013, 11:31:03</strong>
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				<hr><div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e6/Reloadedbanner.png)</div><hr><br><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size: 18pt;" class="bbc_size">Around Town</span></strong></div><br><div align="center">This thread is for any roleplaying which occurs outside the town, proper.&nbsp; This will include the Sioux Union's settlement, Black Jack's Lair, aboard the <em>Typhoon</em> or at any location listed below or eventually added by the GM.&nbsp; Please use the Tagging Header listed below.</div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Doomtown Tagging Header</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="codeheader">Code: <a href="javascript:void(0);" onclick="return smfSelectText(this);" class="codeoperation">[Select]</a></div><pre style="margin: 0; padding: 0;"><code class="bbc_code">[hr]<br>[floatleft][IMG height=200 padding=8]&lt;Link to your character's picture&gt;[/IMG][/floatleft] <br>[b]Name:[/b] <br>[b]Faction:[/b] (Unknown, or the associated faction rank.&nbsp; If faction rank is less than three, it is not required to note.)<br>[b]Date:[/b]<br>[b]Time of Day:[/b] (morning, noon, afternoon.&nbsp; Please avoid precise timing.)<br>[b]Location:[/b] <br>[b]Tagged:[/b] <br>[hr] </code></pre></div></div><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Around Town Locations</div><div class="spoiler_body">Art Gallery<div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">1st Bank of Gomorra</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Owner</strong>:&nbsp; Sweetrock Mining Company<br><strong>Operator</strong>:&nbsp; Saul Scheinbaum,&nbsp; several tellers.<br><strong>Range of Quality</strong>:&nbsp; N/A<br><strong>Description</strong>:&nbsp; A well appointed building with a smaller storefront, front room of the 1st Bank of Gomorra is a closely boxed in room with a single cage and a teller sitting behind bars for most of the hours of the day.&nbsp; A single door leads off into more lavish offices and to the safe room.&nbsp; The 1st Bank is willing to extend a loan to home owners and business owners without much question, or any one with a strike that provides a regular income.&nbsp; Those with a regular income can receive smaller loans, as well.&nbsp; Those without tangible assets to offer as collateral are treated more dubiously.&nbsp; Interest rates are generally fair, but also tend to rise when minorities and ferners are concerned.&nbsp; Anyone with an Outlaw background will not receive a loan.&nbsp; Anyone with a Renown background MAY receive a loan, but Saul is less willing to place his faith in word-of-mouth over hard assets.&nbsp; Insurance on small businesses can be assessed, at a cost of approximately ten percent of a business's monthly income.</div></div>Bloodsport Arena<br>Dispatch Office <br>Fountain <br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Gomorra Volunteer Fire Brigade</div><div class="spoiler_body"><strong>Owner</strong>:&nbsp; Volunteer Run, Gomorra Business Council funded.<br><strong>Operator</strong>:&nbsp; Theodore Howell.<br><strong>Range of Quality</strong>:&nbsp; N/A<br><strong>Description</strong>:&nbsp; A rickshaw building that looks well tended if poorly designed, the Gomorra Volunteer Fire Brigade is built adjacent to Bob's Fix It Shop.&nbsp; The two buildings actually share an internal door, and the Fire Chief of the Brigade is also the owner and operator of the Fix-It Shop, inherited from his father.&nbsp; Teddy Howell runs a clean shop, fixes all manner of broken goods around town, and mostly keeps to himself.&nbsp; In the rare event of a fire, he drives a wagon out of the Fire Brigade with a water pump mounted to the back, finds the closest man he can to spray the building, and dives within to pull anyone alive free from the burning wreckage.</div></div>Gomorra Gazette <br>Icehouse <br>Sheriff's Office/Jail <br>Lyle's Aquatic Emporium<br>Library <br>Museum <br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">Minor's Union House</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br><strong>Owner</strong>:&nbsp; The Respectful Brotherhood of Gamorran Miners<br><strong>Operator:</strong>&nbsp; Tom “Niner” Rumrage<br><strong>Range of Quality</strong>:&nbsp; N/A<br><br><strong>Description</strong>:&nbsp; One of the few buildings made partly from stone in Gomorra, the Union House was originally little more than a small square building but over the years has expanded considerably, firm wooden extensions supplementing the rocky core. The most notable addition is a large three-sided meeting hall opening out onto “Miner's Peril”. From the elevated speaking platform more than one firebrand instigator had whipped a crowd of miners into a fury, preaching about how they have been exploited and abused.<br><br>The Respectful Brotherhood of Gamorran Miners (more commonly referred to as the Miner's Union” or simply “the Union”) is currently headed by Tom “Niner” Rumrage, a huge, hulking man with big hands, a bushy beard and a deep, resonant voice. Despised by Sweetrock and loved by the miners there are still questions about how successful his long tenure has been. On one hand he has been effective in keeping independent miners and mines in business (although many may grumble as to what level of “independence” a miner truly has when under the thumb of the Union) and through avoiding any open violent confrontations he has kept his trump card.... organizing the miners into a wild mob... as a powerful deterrent to any trying to break the Union's power. On the other hand, life for an independent miner is still grim, dangerous and far too often short and despite his successes in frustrating Sweetrock he has only frustrated them; attempts to organize Sweetrock miners or even hurt the company's profit margins have met with little success.<br><br>Niner has certainly made a comfortable enough living off his time as the organizer of the Union, but he’s far from wealthy.&nbsp; A veteran of the Gold Rush of ’49, he’s too old to work as a miner himself, and a little too stubborn and thickheaded to make a go as a businessman.&nbsp; The majority of the miners are so impoverished that asking for even cents from them would bar their membership in the Union; in lieu of money, Niner usually asks for their vocal support in times of protest.&nbsp; It is the independent miners who’ve made a stake and earned some wealth who fund the Union, to allow them a collective bargaining voice against Sweetrock and in city matters.&nbsp; At votes and in Town Hall meetings, Niner is well known to speak on behalf of the rank and file miners that are Gamorra’s lifeblood, and his word is usually respected.</div></div>Old Town Hall (Destroyed)<br>New Pony Express <br>Orphanage <br>Penny Arcade <br>Registry<br>Schoolhouse<br>Shootin' Range<br>Spiritual Society Enclave<br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">St Martin's Chapel</div><div class="spoiler_body"><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/93/Stmartinschapel.png)</div><strong>Owner</strong>:&nbsp; Father Esteban Ortega<br><strong>Operator</strong>:&nbsp; Father Esteban Ortega, Father Juan Navarro<br><strong>Range of Quality</strong>:&nbsp; N/A<br><strong>Description</strong>:&nbsp; St Martin's Chapel, the only chapel in the city of Gomorra, serves a dual function.&nbsp; The church bells as an early warning system in case of attack, fire, or important meetings.&nbsp; More often, however, it is used by those seeking religious counsel or prayer service.&nbsp; The church can seat thirty parishioners, or allow fifty to stand during a crowded service.&nbsp; Most Sundays, Father Ortega holds three services, but near major holidays he often holds six.&nbsp; The church has Catholic trappings, but most of the murals are in a&nbsp; Central and South American artistic style, over more classically European depictions of the saints, disciples, and Savior.&nbsp; Father Ortega is an elderly Mexican man, soft spoken but patient and caring.&nbsp; He focuses most of his energies on tending to the community, and his services are known for insightful reflection on the qualities of mercy over fire and brimstone sermonizing.&nbsp; Father Navarro, three decades younger, is considerably more energetic, and has a beautiful singing voice.&nbsp; Both men are well liked and well respected in the community.&nbsp; The first services of the day is a Catholic Mass, entirely in Latin, and the other services are performed in a rather non-denominational fashion, welcoming Christians of all stripes.&nbsp; The second service is held in Spanish, and the third in English.</div></div>Storage Shed <br>The Back Room <br>The Clock Tower <br>The Courthouse <br>The Docks <br>The Mission House <br>The Slaughterhouse <br>The Tree <br>The Troupe <br>Theatre <br>Toll Bridge <br>Town Well <br>Water Tower <br>Western Union Office<br>Wishing Well</div></div>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>09-03-2013, 11:21:28</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Open<br><hr><br>The fact that Vigilance Ranch was ten hours by horseback from Gomorra, and still considered 'near' the territory spoke to the distance between even small homesteads In the West.&nbsp; The lawman had paused to give a chance to stretch legs an take a few bites to eat, giving Ergo a much needed break for water as well.&nbsp; The journey had been uneventful, though unpleasantly hot, as if the Maze refused to offer a climate of any kind that could be considered 'pleasant.'&nbsp; <br><br>Put then the Maze had come into view, for the last few hours of their ride – the great long miles of shattered rock and water channels, the islands that sat high atop columns of red rock.&nbsp; Painted ladies hung from distant mesas, and occasionally the mast of a ship or the puff of steam from a smokestack could be seen winding its way through the channels.&nbsp; Despite all its dangers, there was a certain magnificence to the place, and it stretched in either direction as far as the eye could see.&nbsp; It was another hour of riding the edge of the Maze before they reached a second ranch – this one located near to a suspension bridge that stretched a hundred feet from one mesa to the next.&nbsp; It swayed in the wind, and even as skilled a rider as Nathan Hunter was, he didn't try to make Ergo cross the great bridge.&nbsp; Instead he brought the horse to the satirically named 'Alright Corral.&nbsp; There were dozens of horses stabled at it, and the deputy seemed familiar with the owner, greeting Evelyn by name and clapping his hand in a firm handshake.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>“Good to have you back, deputy,”</strong> he said, with surprising fervor.&nbsp; Hunter raised an eyebrow, and the rancher blinked in surprise.&nbsp; <strong>“You ain't heard – Coleman's been shot.”</strong><br><br>hunter's eyes widened, his posture growing perfectly stiff and still, disbelief easily read in his gaze.&nbsp; <strong>“How badly?”</strong> he asked, his voice barely a whisper.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>“Dead,”</strong> said the rancher,.&nbsp; <strong>“Last night.&nbsp; Mayor called a meeting this morning, there's gonna be a new Sheriff.&nbsp; Folk been wondering if you're dead or running against Nash Bilton.”</strong>&nbsp; Hunter blinked, and shook his head.&nbsp; <strong>“I haven't rightly...&nbsp; I need to find out what's going on,”</strong> he said.&nbsp; <strong>“Who killed him?”</strong><br><br>Evelyn frowned.&nbsp; <strong>“Newspaper says Black Jack.&nbsp; Mayor says his crew.”&nbsp; </strong><br><br>Nathan blew out a breath, and looked back to Margeurite.&nbsp; <strong>“Thank you, Evelyn.&nbsp; We need to be getting across.” </strong> The bridge they needed to cross dangled and swung in the wind, and Hunter offered her the crook of his arm.&nbsp; <strong>“May I offer you an escort?”</strong>&nbsp; For once, it seemed his mind had something else to be preoccupied with besides Margeurite Tuerny.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>09-03-2013, 22:22:39</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f0/Marguerite_Tuerny02.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter, Open<br><hr><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/87/Victorian_Travel_Dress.jpg)</div>The rancher at Vigilance was a fine man, and insisted they take one of his horses for the trip into town.&nbsp; Evelyn would see they got the animal back, and Marguerite had a difficult time forcing the man to accept payment.&nbsp; Her small poke was empty after the exchange of a pair of silver dollars, but she was sure she could get by.&nbsp; After all Nathan was a real gentleman, and theoretically she was a mine owner.&nbsp; She was sure she could leverage that into credit.&nbsp; And if that failed...<br><br>It wouldn't fail!&nbsp; She wasn't going to allow it to fail&nbsp; She was going to succeed.&nbsp; On her own, without a man to protect and provide.&nbsp; A tall order, as she had always leaned on a man.&nbsp; Some men stood tall and provided good support, others had failed her.&nbsp; Now it was time to stand on her own.<br><br>They didn't have a side-saddle, but she as able to make do with the saddle-horn and a strap of leather to take a decent and acceptably comfortable seat.&nbsp; She rode well, and while the horse wasn't as fine as Nathan's big black stud she still managed to keep up.&nbsp; They chatted whenever the road allowed them to ride abreast, and she absorbed everything she could about Nathan, the town, and the local powers that be.&nbsp; If she was going to claim her mine, then she needed to know who might be an ally, who might be against her, and just what the dangers were.&nbsp; She had no plans to stay in Gomorra once she secured her inheritance.&nbsp; But it was not in her plans to be penniless ever again. Anyone that stood in the way of that was her enemy, and she'd learned how one treated their enemies here in the West.<br><br>Nathan had a lot to say, and he was a clever, entertaining conversationalist as well as an accomplished jurist.&nbsp; Quite a man, she noted.&nbsp; And with all his accomplishments and skills, still a gentleman.&nbsp; If only he didn't know about her recent past...&nbsp; A silly notion to be sure.&nbsp; He might want to accept what she was - what she had been - but what man could truly forget such a thing?<br><br>The light conversation and self-deprecating musings ended when they arrived at the oddly named&nbsp; 'Alright Corral.&nbsp; The man Evelyn was pleasant enough - though he smelled of horse and tobacco.&nbsp; But his news was shocking.&nbsp; She didn't know Sheriff Coleman, except that Nathan talked of him quite a lot and always in glowing terms.&nbsp; A man Nathan respected, the local lawman, and murdered in his own office.&nbsp; What kind of town had she come to?<br><br><strong>"Certainly."</strong>&nbsp; She accepted his offer of escort, taking his arm as they navigated the dubious bridge.&nbsp; You had to cross that to get into town?&nbsp; Just what kind of place was this?&nbsp; She thought again.<br><br><strong>"Coleman."</strong>&nbsp; She spoke as they crossed the treacherous bridge.&nbsp; She was quite unabashedly clinging to him, hanging off his strong frame in unladylike manner.&nbsp; <strong>"From what you said about him - this is bad, isn't it?"</strong>&nbsp; She didn't want to distract him, either from the important news that could affect the very destiny of the town, or more urgently from his precarious footing, but she did want to distract herself!<br><br>She let go of him once they made their way into the dusty main street.&nbsp; Now that she was on solid ground, the place seemed almost normal - at least normal in the Western fashion.&nbsp; A busy beehive of a place, filled with a buildings of assorted quality and architecture.&nbsp; At least one building was obviously a hotel - the style of it proclaiming function even without the advertisement of the sign flapping in the gusty wind.&nbsp; And that solid building over there had to be a bank.&nbsp; Gomorra wasn't Denver, but it wasn't merely a coach stop either.&nbsp; <br><br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>09-03-2013, 23:49:52</strong>
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				<br><hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Open<br><hr><br>He held out his arm until she'd taken it.&nbsp; The suspension bridge was relatively narrow - wooden planks long enough for two to cross at a time, with each holding onto a thick rope.&nbsp; It swayed as they walked, and the lawman held the rope carefully.&nbsp; Plenty of drunken miners had met their end simply crossing out of Gomorra, though the bridge had proven the occasional blessing to law enforcement, when criminals had feared to flee across the bridge.<br><br>He nodded, looking over when she clung to him.&nbsp; He wasn't so enamored of heights himself that the trip across wasn't a small test of nerves, but he'd made the passage often enough it was <em>almost</em> becoming de rigeur.&nbsp; <strong>"Very bad,"</strong> he said.&nbsp; <strong>"Coleman's been keeping this place safe and law abiding for years.&nbsp; Relatively.&nbsp; The other boomtowns... most anyone with a pistol is law.&nbsp; I'm not saying we don't have a gunfight in the streets, from time to time... but we don't have vigilance posses, we don't have gunfights in saloons and casinos, and the gangs keep us at a distance.&nbsp; Folks get a fair trial, here, and that's not true many places in the west."</strong><br><br>He continued to thread his way.&nbsp; <strong>"And Bilton's... Bilton's a tough man, but maybe not perfect for the job."</strong>&nbsp; It was against his nature to speak poorly of another lawman.&nbsp; Even bad lawmen were better than no law at all, if only just.&nbsp; <strong>"But no one is, really.&nbsp; Whoever follows him's going to have big shoes to fill.&nbsp; The Raiders, the Maze Rats, keeping Sweetrock from completely owning the town."</strong><br><br>He paused, and pointed at a row of houses behind Main Street, off of the 'Strip' of businesses, hotels, and saloons that clogged the immedite entryway from the mainland.&nbsp; <strong>"You don't want to stay here.&nbsp; All the tourists get fleeced, here.&nbsp; Stay away from the southwest - that's the miner's area, right by Soddom.&nbsp; If you do have to go in, bring a hired gun, or a - "</strong> He paused, and smiled.&nbsp; <strong>"Or a friendly face who knows their way around a pistol.&nbsp; Northwest is all the old money homes.&nbsp; Folks with profitable businesses or mines pulling up ghostrock regular.&nbsp; Hotels there are nice.&nbsp; Reputable.</strong>"&nbsp; He paused, thoughtful.&nbsp; <strong>"If you need a place to sleep until your... straightened out, you can stay at my home.&nbsp; I have an extra bedroom, and I... honestly don't expect I'll be getting any sleep for a few days.&nbsp; If Nash's running for election. someone's gonna need to keep the streets safe."</strong><br><br>He still offered her a gentlemanly escort through the town, even if she no longer needed to cling to him over the bridge.&nbsp; <strong>"Shall I escort you somewhere?"</strong>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 00:57:57</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f0/Marguerite_Tuerny02.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter, Open<br><hr>She considered her choices carefully.&nbsp; It wasn't really proper to accept Nathan's invitation, though it was sorely tempting.&nbsp; She had matters of business to attend to and relief from worry about her lodging was appealing.&nbsp; But, really, it wouldn't be proper.&nbsp; She had no money, but perhaps the Bank would give her a loan against her interest in the mine.&nbsp; She'd never paid for a hotel room in her life, but the few times she had stayed in one she was sure her father had paid on departure.&nbsp; It was risky - what if she didn't have the money when they demanded an accounting?&nbsp; <br><br>But risks were what it took not only to succeed, but to prosper and grow.&nbsp; She would at least try to make it on her own.&nbsp; If all else failed, she could always accept the Lawman's kind invitation.&nbsp; <strong>"Thank you for the offer, but I must decline."</strong>&nbsp; She answered more formally than she intended.&nbsp; <strong>"Which is the nicest of the hotels?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked, looking down at herself with a slight scowl.&nbsp; <strong>"I wish I had a nicer dress." </strong> The one she wore was perfectly acceptable for day wear, especially in such a place as Gomorra.&nbsp; But if she wanted to make an impression she would need something better.<br><br>Nathan had told her he was a barrister, but he was going to be busy for the foreseeable future.&nbsp; <strong>"Do you know a good civil attorney?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked.&nbsp; <strong>"A man that could help me settle my claim to the Harlot's Haven Strike?"</strong>&nbsp; Her pretty face wrinkled up even saying the phrase.&nbsp; <strong>"Who names these things?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked in real curiosity.&nbsp; <br><br>She hesitated to make her hero's life more complicated, but there was no help for it.&nbsp; <strong>"And how would one go about swearing charges against Alfred Eklain?"</strong>&nbsp; She paused again, considering before adding.&nbsp; <strong>"For fraud, and for assault?" </strong> She sighed.&nbsp; <strong>"Though I suppose the assault is beyond the local jurisdiction."</strong>&nbsp; Sad, she'd like to see him pay for everything he'd done to her, and not just for trying to steal her claim.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 06:14:13</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Open<br><hr>He nodded, not entirely sure if he was disappointed or grateful that she wouldn't be residing in his home.&nbsp; Certainly any more awkward encounters around a flimsy towel could be avoided, yet some part of him worried that he'd never see her again.&nbsp; She was being proper, and polite, and he wasn't certain if was the environs or the missed opportunity.&nbsp; He considered the question.&nbsp; Most of Gomorra's visitors wanted an opinion on the casinos and saloons, but reputable visitors always preferred the hotels.&nbsp; <strong>“The Golden Mare,”</strong> he offered. <strong> “There's the Red Hill, too, but it's usually Sweetrock executives.&nbsp; The smoking lounge is nearby, and they both cater to Union businessmen.&nbsp; The Mare's better.”</strong>&nbsp; It also struggled for business a bit more than the Hill, did, but that simply made its staff more attendant.&nbsp; <br><br>He looked over at her dress, and then paused.&nbsp; <strong>“I... I'll recover any effects from Alfred I can,”</strong> he promised.&nbsp; <strong>“But I... I have something you can have.”</strong>&nbsp; His voice was softer, with just a touch of nostalgia. <strong> “I would love for you to have it, actually.”</strong><br><br>He smiled over at her.&nbsp; <strong>“Me,”</strong> he chuckled.&nbsp; <strong>“But I can introduce you to Judge Warwick.&nbsp; He can advise you if your case will even need an attorney.&nbsp; Law is... oddly practiced in Gomorra.&nbsp; Since it's near impossible to verify a lawyer's accreditation, anyone who has a reasonable understanding of the law can act as an attorney.&nbsp; And more often than not, it's a lawyer's ability to persuade a jury that marks his success.&nbsp; We've had Harvard lawyers pack up and go home, and oraters with a few law books at home become celebrated frontier lawyers.”</strong>&nbsp; He laughed ruefully.&nbsp; <strong>“But most civil cases are presided over without a jury.&nbsp; Davidson Consulting has a good reputation, and Davidson usually goes up against Sweetrock on civil claims.&nbsp; He's mostly employed by the independent miners, but he's got a heavy caseload.&nbsp; Bankum &amp; Bankum are... good lawyers, but they're employed full time by the mining consortium.&nbsp; If your strike's producing ghostrock, and Sweetrock gets wind of it, they'll try to get hold of it.”</strong><br><br>He threw his head back and laughed at the mention of mines.&nbsp; <strong>“My personal favorite is a toss up between The Devil's Crevasse and The Golden Crack.&nbsp; Consider your strike tastefully named, by comparison.”</strong>&nbsp; He chuckled and then blushed as he looked over.&nbsp; <strong>“Ah, forgive my language.&nbsp; But the miner's have a … ribald sense of humor.”</strong><br><br>He patted the hand on his arm.&nbsp; <strong>“I'll be bringing charges against him when I throw him in jail for perjury and lying to an officer of the law.&nbsp; I <em>do</em> hope he resists arrest, as well.&nbsp; After, you can file your charges with the Judge.&nbsp; Warwick's been willing to prosecute criminal matters outside Gomorra before, if there's sufficient evidence.”</strong>&nbsp; He frowned.&nbsp; <strong>“I truly wish we had something to see him hang for.&nbsp; It seems your... myriad troubles lie at his feet.”</strong><br><br>He paused at the intersection.&nbsp; <strong>“The Golden Mare?&nbsp; And I can bring the dress there?&nbsp; Or would you like to change before checking in?”</strong>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 07:51:10</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter, Open<br><hr><strong>“The Golden Mare."</strong>&nbsp; She decided after a moment of consideration.&nbsp; <strong>"And you don't have to do that."</strong>&nbsp; She saw the look in his eye, the set of his jaw, and she relented.&nbsp; <strong>"Yes, you can send the dress, but don't go out of you way to do so."</strong>&nbsp; She agreed.<br><br>She thought a lot about how she'd introduce herself at the hotel.&nbsp; Should she use her married name, or her maiden?&nbsp; The mining claim was in her maiden name, and she had no legal documents to support her marriage - either of her marriages, though she'd as soon forget her second one - she hadn't wanted it to begin with and it wasn't legal anywhere but in Deseret and she wasn't even sure it was legal there, and besides Mortimer and most of her sister wives where dead after the Sioux attack.<br><br>She still felt married to Breed, but was she ever going to see him again?&nbsp; She didn't even know how to find that wonderful old Spanish Mission or if they had any record of the marriage.&nbsp; Somewhere in the southwestern desert there might be a note in a parish record book, but there was a lot of desert in the southwest United States.&nbsp; And the Saints took her wedding ring - confiscated it as evidence of her husband's crime.&nbsp; It was almost like she'd never been married, except in her memory.&nbsp; Breed said it himself - best to forget him.&nbsp; It would certainly make things easier.&nbsp; She'd best just use her given name and forget ever being married.<br><br>When they got to the hotel she stopped and released Nathan's arm.&nbsp; <strong>"Thank you so much."</strong>&nbsp; She told him, staring straight into his eyes.&nbsp; <strong>"For everything."</strong>&nbsp; She added. <strong>"I... I'll never forget what you did for me."</strong>&nbsp; She leaned forward and brushed the driest of kisses against his unshaven jaw.&nbsp; <strong>"Don't be a stranger!"</strong>&nbsp; She warned.&nbsp; <strong>"I know you have work and I feel selfish keeping you."</strong>&nbsp; She stepped back, wondering why this felt so much like good bye. Heavens!&nbsp; His house wasn't a minute's walk from where they stood!<br><br>Once they parted she entered the hotel and approached the clerk.&nbsp; <strong>"Good day."</strong>&nbsp; She greeted the menial with just the right amount of haughty civility.&nbsp; <strong>"I am told on good authority that you have the best rooms in this... town."</strong>&nbsp; She let her manner and tone indicate she didn't think Gomorra quite worthy of the status of town.&nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"I would like to let a room.&nbsp; By the month would do.&nbsp; My business here should be completed by then."</strong>&nbsp; She hoped. <strong>"The best room you have - and does that come with amenities?"</strong>&nbsp; She negotiated over the price and the services until finally she decided she got what she wanted, if not quite for the price she wanted.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"You may register me as Mrs. Marguerite Landry."</strong>&nbsp; She was shocked as the words left her mouth - apparently her subconscious had made up it's own mind about who she was, and it wasn't about to let pragmatic considerations interfere with what it wanted.&nbsp; <strong>"Formerly Marguerite Tuerny, of Baltimore, Maryland."</strong>&nbsp; She amended.&nbsp; When the clerk asked if her husband would be joining her she almost lost her composure.&nbsp; <strong>"I... I'm afraid he can not."</strong>&nbsp; She confessed, but if the clerk expected an explanation for her upset he was to be disappointed.<br><br><strong>"Is there a Catholic church in town?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked, listening closely to the directions once the clerk affirmed that there was.&nbsp; <strong>"And a dress shop?"</strong>&nbsp; She listened again to the options.&nbsp; Shouldn't be too difficult to find the shoppe - it wasn't like there was more than the one business district.&nbsp; She thought to ask for the lawyer, but that could wait until after she met with the Judge.<br><br>She took the key and turned away when the clerk stopped her by asking for payment.&nbsp; She froze, and turned about with the stiffest of spines and simply the most withering look imaginable.&nbsp; <strong>"I presumed you'd take payment when I checked out - but I suppose when one is past the edge of civilization and into the barbaric frontier, one must..."</strong>&nbsp; She'd timed the outrage and the outburst to coincide with the arrival of a man which she fervently hoped was the manager - because if she actually had to pull $30 out of her purse...<br><br>The manager apologized profusely, assuring her that he did not doubt the good word of a Lady such as herself - and did she have any collateral?&nbsp; Oh of course he didn't doubt her identity and he was sure her credit was good!&nbsp; &nbsp;It was just...&nbsp; She'd be there a whole month?&nbsp; And she'd settle the bill at the end of the month, along with any expenses?&nbsp; And if her investments needed more attention she might be making an extended stay?&nbsp; The man was running up figures in his head - why this woman might generate more income than the rest of his rooms combined.&nbsp; Of course her credit was good!<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 08:18:44</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/e/e4/Natehunter.png/437px-Natehunter.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Nathan Hunter<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Senior Deputy (Law Dogs)<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Outside the Golden Mare <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Open<br><hr>Hunter nodded at her decision, turning his steps towards the esteemed establishment.&nbsp; He nodded when she said he didn't have to, summoning a protest when she relented.&nbsp; He smiled gratefully when she didn't make an argument of it,&nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>”Out of the way?”</strong>&nbsp; He smiled lightly, the corner of his mouth curving.&nbsp; <strong>“It provides me a pretext to visit.”</strong><br><br>He turned to face the beautiful socialite when she'd arrived.&nbsp; <strong>”It was my honor,”</strong> he said softly.&nbsp; He was touched by the sincerity of her words at the thanks which came after, then took her hand.&nbsp; He blushed at the dry kiss, brought her hand to his mouth, kissing it across the knuckles as he had twice before.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>”I will not,”</strong> he promised.&nbsp; <strong>”I do.&nbsp; But... I will have to eat, sometime.&nbsp; Perhaps if you are available, I can inquire upon you for dinner tomorrow night?”</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; He let the question linger, then smiled.&nbsp; <strong>“Be safe, milady.&nbsp; If you require anything, please... don't hesitate to ask.”</strong>&nbsp; He waited, impressing the seriousness of his request upon with his eyes.<br><br>Then he stepped away, reluctant, turning towards his home first.&nbsp; Showing up in bloodied clothes to the Sheriff's office was hardly how he intended to greet the new interim Sheriff.<br><br>He whistled for one of the young boys, orphans mostly, who often delivered messages and packages around town.&nbsp; <strong>“Want to make a half dollar, Nolan?&nbsp; I'll have something for you to deliver in a moment.”</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 09:24:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				[continued in Entertainment (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=167803.msg7856541#msg7856541)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 11:28:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Open<br><hr><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/8/87/Victorian_Travel_Dress.jpg)</div>Marguerite paused in mid-street.&nbsp; The directions were so simple.&nbsp; Down the street to the town center, then look east and head toward the bell tower.&nbsp; All well and good, only the bell tower wasn't that obvious in the gathering dark, and two of the dozen or so roads leaving the town hub headed generally east.&nbsp; She took the wider of them, only to find it lined with saloons and gambling dens and places even worse.&nbsp; One particularly impressive such place - proclaiming itself a Casino - was off to her left.&nbsp; She'd stepped into the street to avoid the big building and the long porch in front of it - a porch well-lit by lanterns and crowded with two or three unsavory types a lady would do well to avoid.<br><br>Only - the other side of the street was just as disturbing, and darker.&nbsp; Maybe she should just go back to the hotel and find the chapel in the morning.&nbsp; But she was out now... maybe if she re-traced her steps and tried that other road...&nbsp; She didn't hesitate long, before her sweetly flared hips twisted and she turned about to return from whence she came.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kuroneko</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 12:11:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Sloane5_zpsfbdee107.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Deacon Sloane<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> In front of the Casino Morongo, Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Open <br><hr><br>With the town Brahmins locked up inside the Town Hall there was nothing left to do for the remainder of Gomorra’s citizens but to go about their business until such time as a royal proclamation was made.&nbsp; Sloane was no different, and after a decent handful of hours sleep, topped off with being sucked off by one of his most talented offerings, he was ready for the first round of the evening’s clientele. Already, the Casino floor was bustling, and if he was any judge of these things – and he was – it looked to be a good evening’s business.&nbsp; It seemed that murder had heated up the blood of not a few among the townfolk, and they were eager to blow off a little steam.&nbsp; Sloane was more than willing to oblige by indulging their various needs, carnal or otherwise.&nbsp; <br><br>It was curiosity that had Sloane outside the main doors of the casino, rather than any need to drive commerce inside, along with the desire to indulge himself in a one of the fine Cuban cigars he kept stocked for his special clients, of which he chief.&nbsp; Putting match to the rough wood of the building, he struck a flame and brought it to the tip of the cigar, puffing several times before tossing the spent match aside.&nbsp; Inhaling deeply until the end glowed like an eye in the disappearing light, he let the smoke slowly spill out of his nose and mouth to wreath about his head as he cast his gaze across the street, carefully eying the passing crowd as they head out for the evening or made their way home after a hard day’s work.&nbsp; That was when he spied her. <br><br>Sloane made it his business to know who came and went in Gomorra, but the pretty brunette in an obviously borrowed dress that cautiously sidestepped the Casino’s porch in favor of the dust and shit of the street was a new commodity. Interest piqued, he watched, puffing on the cigar, as she stopped dead in the street, seemed to consider her options, and then turned right around, as if looking to go back the way she came.&nbsp; Stepping forward, Sloane came down the stairs of the Casino, halting on the bottom step with one thumb hooked into the pocket of his vest.&nbsp; <br><br>“You lost, darlin’?” he asked, giving the brunette a careful once over as he took another drag on the cigar.&nbsp; “If you’re new in town, I’d suggest you’d do well to stay in after dark …at least until you get your bearings, that is.&nbsp; Gomorra’s a dangerous place, ‘specially with our sheriff recently getting himself deceased.”&nbsp; He paused, blowing out a plume of smoke.&nbsp; “Murderer’s still out there, somewhere.”&nbsp; He gestured with the cigar, indicating the surrounding town.&nbsp; “Best be cautious.”&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>10-03-2013, 12:48:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; The street outside of the Casino Morongo<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Deacon, Open<br><hr>Her retreat aborted, halted by the twin barriers of good manners and a rather large physical presence.&nbsp; <strong>"No, not lost."</strong>&nbsp; She replied civil enough.&nbsp; <strong>"I am in Gomorra, I believe?"</strong>&nbsp; Her manner and posture, her tone and her phrasing all spoke of good breeding.&nbsp; And her accent hinted at the East and the not-too-deep South.&nbsp; The joke was a poor one, not fit even for a smile or a chuckle - but it did serve to help her gather her courage and her resolve.<br><br>The man was older, his face visible in the lantern light.&nbsp; A strong face and a strong man.&nbsp; A confident man that carried himself with self-assurance that didn't require bluster.&nbsp; A man that expected diffidence and respect.&nbsp; She stood her ground, showing no fear and nothing but polite respect.<br><br><strong>"But I do believe you're correct."</strong>&nbsp; She allowed.&nbsp; <strong>"I shouldn't have wandered out so late.&nbsp; I didn't expect it to get dark so fast."</strong>&nbsp; And she should have - she'd been in the area long enough now to know how dark descended like a swooping falcon once the sun set.&nbsp; She hadn't expected the sun to set so soon though.<br><br><strong>"And now I feel so foolish."</strong>&nbsp; She flashed him a smile - which shadow mostly obscured.&nbsp; Darkness hid all but the broadest strokes of her fine pale features, but the hints he spied suggested he stood before a rare beauty even by the high standards of a man with limitless access to women.&nbsp; <strong>"Would you mind terribly, escorting me back to my hotel?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked, her request most improper for a real lady, but given the circumstances perhaps a prudent move.&nbsp; "<strong>I'd feel ever so much safer with an escort."</strong>&nbsp; She didn't know anything about this man - they hadn't even been introduced!&nbsp; But she suspected a woman in his company was quite safe from any threat.&nbsp; Except of course for the threat he presented himself. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kuroneko</strong> on <strong>11-03-2013, 05:30:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Sloane5_zpsfbdee107.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Deacon Sloane<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> In front of the Casino Morongo, Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Open <br><hr>&nbsp; <br><br>Sloane’s expression remained the same as he answered her question.&nbsp; “Oh, aye … you’re in Gomorra all right,” he replied, leaving out the obvious condolence at the fact that she found herself here out of all places in the wide world. Eyes still on her, he took another long pull on the cigar and waited for her to continue.&nbsp; <br><br>“Is that so?” Sloane asked, knowing how unusual it was for a woman to admit a man was ever right – though he knew better than to let it go to his head. “The dark does tend to come around regularly ‘bout this time every day, whether we expect it or not.”&nbsp; <br><br>Foolish, was she?&nbsp; Sloane didn’t buy her damsel in distress act for a minute, though surely with the looks that the lantern light only hinted at this woman was used to charming her way through life on a truly epic scale.&nbsp; Had a nice voice, too.&nbsp; Soft and soothing, like a shot of fine whiskey.&nbsp; He did manage to arch an eyebrow when she asked him to walk her back to her hotel, not from any real surprise, but rather from the confidence in her tone.&nbsp; It suggested she was used to men jumping at the offer.&nbsp; <br><br>“I thought you said you felt foolish,” Sloane began, scratching thoughtfully at one rough cheek as he appeared to consider her request.&nbsp; “And yet, here you are askin’ a man you don’t even know to walk you back to your hotel in a town you clearly aren’t acquainted with.” Pausing, he took another long drag and then blew the smoke out in a thick stream.&nbsp; “You sure that’s what you want to do?&nbsp; I could be a murderin’ madman playing dress up in a well-made suit.”&nbsp; <br><br>Which he was, but … details.&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>11-03-2013, 08:35:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; The street outside of the Casino Morongo<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Deacon, Open<br><hr>"<strong>Jesters do oft prove prophets.</strong>"&nbsp; She quoted the Bard in reply to his backhanded boast.&nbsp; He was a dangerous man.&nbsp; The way he carried himself had been clue enough, but his calm indifference was just as telling.&nbsp; <strong>"But who better to drive off the jackals than a lion?"</strong>&nbsp; She flashed her grin again, a twist and a sidestep as she moved to avoid the cigar smoke finally putting her startlingly lovely features into the light.&nbsp; <strong>"And if the lion isn't tame?&nbsp; Well, I hardly think he'd make an attack in so foolish or public a manner."</strong>&nbsp; Though she was quite, quite, and most definitely certain that she'd not like to be alone in private with this man. <br><br><strong>"Perhaps it would be best - and certainly more proper - if you could direct me back to my hotel?&nbsp; It is the Golden Mare.&nbsp; Back to the town hub, and then toward the north?"</strong>&nbsp; She thought - but was by no means certain - that she could find the building on her own.&nbsp; There were so many streets leading spoke-like out from the city hub.&nbsp; And she knew from experience how easy it was to take the wrong one.&nbsp; Asking directions often saved so much trouble.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>12-03-2013, 08:02:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr> <br><br>Turning onto Main Street, Nicodemus continued his casual evening stroll, in no hurry to reach a particular destination.&nbsp; One hand in the pocket of his hand crafted, tailored suit, his intense gaze drifted between the buildings, taking in the sights of Gomorras busiest street.&nbsp; <br><br>A well used door to his right opened almost in front of him, a young woman trying to push it open with her rear, her hands quite full.&nbsp; Nicodemus stepped forward, pulling his hand out of his pocket and pulled the door open gently for the woman.&nbsp; Turning her attention to him with a smile, she opened her mouth then closed it as she paled at the sight of Nicodemus standing so close to her.&nbsp; “Uh, thanks, Mr. Whateley.”&nbsp; She backed up a small step involuntarily, putting distance between the two of them.&nbsp; <br><br>His expression unchanged, Nicodemus nodded his head once.&nbsp; “Good Evenin', Ma'am.”&nbsp; He replied quietly a hint of a Southern accent still present though his time spent abroad tamed his accent greatly.&nbsp; His eyes followed her movements as she made a quick, less than graceful escape.<br><br>Utterly unfazed by the encounter, Nicodemus allowed her to gain some distance before he resumed his stroll, hand returning to his pocket and gaze once again shifting between the businesses.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 01:28:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Notices Nicodemus, Marguerite, and Deacon; Open<hr> Whistlin'. Harley still hadn't managed to master that particular skill but if she had she might have been doin' it just now as she strolled down Main Street idly. Instead she was humming just under her breath, her low smoky tones decent enough not to send anybody running away with bloody ears should they venture close enough to hear. Madame Rose used to tsk about what a shame it was that Harley had no desire to perform the way her mother had but Harley had stuck to her guns on that one. She had no desire to be the center of anybodies attention. Still, that didn't stop a casual hummin or song when the mood struck and now seemed to be a time for it given she was low on coin just at the moment. Consequently she had no place in particular for her lazy stroll to get her to though she was ever on the lookout for somethin' worth detourin' for.<br><br>Booted feet led her past all sorts of temptation, her long legged stride tempered by mild curiosity as brown eyes soaked up some rather delightful sights as well as some that were none too savory. Bein' 'round long as she had she'd stopped being surprised by a good amount of the things she saw and was usually prepared for just about anything, but as her dark gaze landed upon a trim figure sportin' a full head of red hair Harley blanched visibly, her lip curlin' up in a sneer. He wasn't doin' nothin' but seemingly assisting a lady who could use the help but as the woman sought to escape his presence quickly, Harley shoved down the urge to charge forward and ducked her head, purposefully crossing the street. Far as she could tell nothin' good ever come from crossin' paths with a Whateley and in this case she was all to happy to heed the uneasy feeling that had sprung to life in her gut.<br><br>Altering her path so suddenly had her crossing the street toward Casino Morongo and put her straight on a collision course with a memory so sharp it had teeth. For a moment all she saw was <em>her</em>. Harley's notice barely extending to the fact that Deacon Sloane was also present, and the seizing in her heart drew her to a halt mid street, her eyes gone wide. She didn't know what to say or do. Had she any enemies in town they could have come right up and blasted her between the eyes without a worry, that's how stuck she was; torn between drawing closer and wanting to turn right back around to take her chances with the Whateley fellow rather than face the possibility that lie before her. <br><br>She wasn't sure how long she stood there like an idiot before she was bumped rather roughly and instinct kicked into gear to get her out of the way.&nbsp; Making a snap decision, she glanced back at the red haired man briefly, something poking at the back of her mind for a moment before she turned back around to continue onward toward the figure that reminded her far to much of times gone past. From her angle the woman looked far too much like her Dove, even her mannerisms seeming to suggest the woman had dared to return to Gomorra. She could only pray she had not, that her mind was playing tricks on her because if she had... if Gem had dared to return, Harley wasn't sure if she would kiss her or throttle her within an inch of her life.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kuroneko</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 06:03:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Sloane5_zpsfbdee107.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Deacon Sloane<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> In front of the Casino Morongo, Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Nicodemus, Open <br><hr>&nbsp; <br><br>“Many a true word has been spoken in jest,” Sloane replied dryly, offering up a quotation from the same Shakespearean tragedy that she had used in an attempt to school him.&nbsp; Despite his manner and demeanor, he was well read.&nbsp; Lots of time along on the open range with nothing else to do had offered Sloane a rather varied education. But her open praise of his countenance and demeanor, along with a wistful summation of her assessment of his judgment and limits almost made him laugh out loud.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;“The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman,” Sloane deadpanned, continuing to look to King Lear for inspiration as she tried – unsuccessfully, he might add – to stroke his ego. Her behavior only confirmed his early opinion.&nbsp; This was a woman used to banking on her looks to get what she wanted – and she <em>was </em> pretty.&nbsp; More than pretty; downright beautiful, if he was being honest, even if there was something about her that seemed a little … worn.&nbsp; But it would take more than a pretty face and a few compliments to motivate him to move away from his place of business just as the nightly traffic was heating up.&nbsp; <br><br>At the mention of propriety, one corner of Sloane’s mouth tugged upward.&nbsp; “I don’t give a damn about what’s proper,” he said, eyeing her again, this time with more care.&nbsp; Her hands looked a little rough to his eye, even in the low light, as if she’d been doing hard work, despite the eastern drawl in her voice.&nbsp; And it was clear the dress she was wearing hadn’t been made for her. “And I’m guessing you don’t much care about it either,” he added, taking a moment to savor his cigar.&nbsp; There was a story there, he was certain.&nbsp; He just wasn’t sure he cared enough to find out what it was. <br><br>Letting the smoke slip out of his mouth and nose, Sloane glanced up the street, happening to spy Nicodemus Whateley coming towards them before turning his attention back to the girl.&nbsp; “Northwest,” Sloane said, correcting her, before raising his voice just enough to carry to Nick.&nbsp; “But if propriety is your concern, you might be best considering asking Mr. Whateley here to take you back to your hotel.&nbsp; Better one of the scions of the town matriarch than the owner of the largest casino in Gomorra, yes?”&nbsp; He turned towards the man in question.&nbsp; <br><br>“Evening, Nicodemus.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 07:30:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; The street outside of the Casino Morongo<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Sloane, Harley, Nicodemus, Open<br><hr>She let his paraphrased restatement of her quotation pass.&nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"Exactly."</strong>&nbsp; She responded, confirming that he understood her meaning.&nbsp; That she quite believed him when he admitted to being a murdering madman.&nbsp; Still, it would take a foolish madman to murder her in the open street.&nbsp; She hoped he was not that foolish.&nbsp; <br><br>It did vex her vanity that he seemed so amused by her.&nbsp; &nbsp;But then, her vanity could stand the occasional challenge.&nbsp; <strong>"The Prince might be."</strong>&nbsp; She agreed readily, her inflection casting doubt upon his own gentility despite his flawed knowledge of Shakespeare.&nbsp; He seemed quite full of himself, which wasn't really a bad thing - certainly a more attractive trait than a lack of confidence.&nbsp; Such arrogance only worked if one could back it up, though she suspected he might be able to do so.<br><br><strong>"Sheriffs gunned down in their own office, a saloon or worse at every corner.&nbsp; I see that the dime novels may have understated the true wildness of the west."</strong>&nbsp; She observed.&nbsp; &nbsp;As she spoke her attention wavered when the lack of a footstep sounded louder than the jingle of a thousand spurs.&nbsp; There was a shadow approaching from the left - just another pedestrian along the busy street.<br><br>Just another that is, until the shadow froze in mid step just yards away.&nbsp; It was the abruptness of the halt that drew her attention away from the dangerous if intriguing man before her.&nbsp; That, and the intensity she felt as the stranger stared.&nbsp; Turning her head, she was surprised to see the new arrival was a woman.&nbsp; A very mannish-mannered woman, but a pretty one despite her carelessness with appearance.&nbsp; Pale eyes met dark in a brief slanted glance before she returned her attention to Sloane and the red-haired man he called over.<br><br><strong>"Mr. Whateley."</strong>&nbsp; She nodded a respectful and properly distant greeting to the man.&nbsp; <strong>"Pleased, I am sure."</strong>&nbsp; She looked to the south - toward the not very distant town hub.&nbsp; <strong>"I was just returning to my hotel.&nbsp; I don't know what I was thinking, leaving it at such an hour."</strong>&nbsp; Which was nothing but the stark truth.&nbsp; She should have waited for morning to find the chapel.&nbsp; But then, she never was one to think before acting.&nbsp; Some day, that would get her into real trouble.&nbsp; <br><br>Propriety - and frankly her safety - demanded she have an escort.&nbsp; But these men were strangers, one of them quite the horse's ass to boot.&nbsp; It was only a short walk - she'd best find her way back alone.&nbsp; <strong>"I believe I'll be going now."</strong>&nbsp; She waited just long enough not to be rude in her departure, and - with another sidelong glance toward the mysterious woman in shadow - she turned away to walk with casual dignity out of the situation.&nbsp; Her dignified stride was not bluster, but the pace of a woman that was calmly certain of her station and situation.&nbsp; Perhaps, that confidence was misplaced.<br><br><div class="spoiler_container"><div onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button" class="spoiler_header">OoC</div><div class="spoiler_body">http://shakespeare.mit.edu/lear/full.html</div></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 08:25:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite Tuerny, Deacon Sloan, notices Harley, open<br><hr> <br><br>While Nicodemus noticed the woman crossing the street and watching the young womans departure, he ignored it calmly and continued his casual stroll, though much more aware of the additional presence on the street.<br><br>As he approached Deacon with a beautiful woman, Nicodemus heard the final comment from the man.&nbsp; He slowed his pace before he came to a stop just close enough to partake in the conversation.&nbsp; His eyes took in Deacon before looking to the woman with him, his interest immediately perked by her presence.&nbsp; “Evening, Mr. Sloan.”&nbsp; He replied, ignoring the comment about the scion of the town matriarch though he enjoyed the compliment.<br><br>“Good evening, Ma'am.”&nbsp; Nicodemus replied, his green eyes took her in quickly, filing away what he saw.&nbsp; He raised an eyebrow at her comment, then nodded his agreement.&nbsp; “It's not safe for an attractive woman to be out alone after the sun sets.”&nbsp; His intense gaze never wavered from her eyes.&nbsp; “Too many unsavory types roaming the streets of Gomorra.&nbsp; And, with the unfortunate murder of the Sheriff, the streets won't be any safer.”&nbsp; <br><br>Again, Nicodemus simply raised his eyebrow at the woman wanting to take her leave from them.&nbsp; “Would you care for an escort back to your hotel?”&nbsp; He asked politely and waited patiently for a response, his hand still rested in his pocket.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 09:23:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; The street outside of the Casino Morongo<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Sloane, Harley, Nicodemus, Open<br><hr>The question stopped her.&nbsp; She wasn't sure she should trust the charming red-headed man, but there was also the adage about the devil you know.&nbsp; She decided not to decide.&nbsp; <strong>"Oh, I don't suppose there's any great hurry."</strong>&nbsp; She replied.&nbsp; <strong>"It's alarming."</strong>&nbsp; She added.&nbsp; <strong>"About the sheriff I mean.&nbsp; Do you agree with the story in the paper?&nbsp; That that notorious outlaw came brazenly into town and gunned him down?"</strong>&nbsp; To her the story didn't make much sense.&nbsp; Why would an outlaw pick a fight with the law for no apparent profit?&nbsp; <br><br>Criminals always had a reason for their crimes.&nbsp; Usually, that reason was profit.&nbsp; She didn't see any profit in a dead sheriff.&nbsp; Though maybe he was close to catching them.&nbsp; Hard to imagine he was making any progress toward that while cleaning his gun like the paper said he was doing.&nbsp; She summed up her thoughts rather simply.&nbsp; <strong>"It's all quite confusing.&nbsp; And alarming."</strong>&nbsp; She'd said that last part before, but it was.&nbsp; Very alarming.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 10:18:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite Tuerny, Deacon Sloan, notices Harley, open<br><hr> <br><br>Nicodemus noted quickly that the woman decided not to leave after his offer to escort her.&nbsp; He was inwardly amused by that but made no outward show of it.&nbsp; In fact, his expression seemed unmoving, the polite smile never wavering.&nbsp; He shrugged at her question.&nbsp; “I highly doubt that Black Jack decided to gun down the sheriff.”&nbsp; He looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, “But, people are capable of great violence when provoked.”&nbsp; He shrugged again, not overly bothered by the murder nor the fact that Black Jack was being blamed.&nbsp; But, the subject kept the woman talking which was of interest to Nicodemus.<br><br>“Indeed it is.&nbsp; Gomorra has always had it's dangers but the sheriff had been able to civilize the population... .somewhat.”&nbsp; Nicodemus agreed quickly with her assessment.&nbsp; “I'm sure there will be a new sheriff in Gomorra soon.”&nbsp; Even with the conversation with the woman before him, he was well aware of the other woman lurking in the shadows and Sloan standing with them.&nbsp; <br><br>Nicodemus paused and pulled his hand out of his pocket.&nbsp; “I apologize for my rudeness.&nbsp; I do not think we were properly introduced.&nbsp; I am Nicodemus Whateley.”&nbsp; He offered his hand and watched her closely.&nbsp; “And you are?”&nbsp; He asked.&nbsp; <br><br>Even for a skilled observer, Nicodemus was unsettlingly difficult to read.&nbsp; There was none of the telltale nuances that so many men offered; his jaw never clenched or quivered, his eyes never seemed to grow more or less intently focused.&nbsp; It was impossible to say even that he blinked regularly.&nbsp; After a few moments observation, and even with a polite smile painted on his face, there was something aloof and granite in his reserve.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 15:04:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; The street outside of the Casino Morongo<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Sloane, Harley, Nicodemus, Open<br><hr>Her clear brow furrowed slightly when the man mentioned a capacity for violence.&nbsp; The words sounded so sincere.&nbsp; As if he spoke from personal experience.&nbsp; She wondered just how much violence this man had seen, and how much of it was of his own doing.&nbsp; <br><br>While she was puzzling over the matter, he shocked her with his most improper self-introduction, and the offer of his hand.&nbsp; She had no business out in the street unescorted and certainly she was breaching etiquette by conversing with not one, but to two men to which she had not been introduced.&nbsp; She blanched slightly to realize just how much a year in the savage west had blunted her sense of propriety.&nbsp; The young woman she was just months ago would have been shocked at the very idea.<br><br>But to offer your hand to a lady!&nbsp; He'd been introduced, and against all polite custom she had acknowledged the introduction as if had been proper.&nbsp; But this went beyond the pale.&nbsp; Was this what passed for gentry here in the west?&nbsp; The impropriety shocked her even after all she had been through.&nbsp; She did the only thing a lady could in the situation, and she ignored the hand and the gauche self-invitation. And especially the uncivil request for her name.<br><br>Her spine went stiff and her chin came up and she spoke to the air between them, her voice in third person as she considered the situation and her appalling lack of manners and disrespect for good breeding that lead to the awkward moment.&nbsp; <strong>"Senior Deputy Hunter will see the matter resolved."</strong>&nbsp; She announced rather than conversed.&nbsp; <strong>"Senior Deputy Hunter is quite capable.&nbsp; He won't let this crime go unpunished."</strong><br><br>It was quite forward of her - nearly as improper as his own social gaffe - to drop a name like that.&nbsp; To mention the name of someone that he would likely know that could properly introduce them.&nbsp; Why, it was so forward to be practically wanton!&nbsp; &nbsp;But then, this was the west, proper etiquette or even basic manners were a casualty here, a casualty in a war of cultures and the battle for survival.<br><br>She turned then, social convention on her side as she walked away without farewell.&nbsp; As a Lady shouldn't acknowledge a man to whom she was not acquainted.&nbsp; She didn't quite flee the scene - but she still felt both a coward and a fool.&nbsp; A fool for getting herself into the situation, and a coward for...&nbsp; there was no reason she should feel like a coward.&nbsp; So, why did she?<br><br>The hotel wasn't hard to find - She could see it from the town hub once she looked northwest.&nbsp; She walked to it with no great hurry but no hesitation.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 15:30:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite Tuerny, Deacon Sloan, notices Harley, open<br><hr><br>Nicodemus watched her for a moment then slipped his hand back into his pocket.&nbsp; He was neither surprised nor offended by her decision not to touch him.&nbsp; Nor did the polite smile leave his face or falter.&nbsp; He let the subject drop without a hint of... well, anything.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>Again, Nicodemus shrugged, not at all bothered by her announcement.&nbsp; It didn't seem as though he cared at all that she spoke up about Hunter.&nbsp; “I'm sure he will do what he feels is right.”&nbsp; Though, inwardly amused, he gives nothing away.&nbsp; Clearly, the new woman in town was bothered by far more than just the sheriff.<br><br>He watched her walk away without comment.&nbsp; It wasn't the first nor would it be the last time that someone walked away from Nicodemus and, each time it happened, he was privately amused. <br><br>“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Sloan.”&nbsp; He said to the casino owner before continuing his casual stroll along main street.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kuroneko</strong> on <strong>14-03-2013, 23:22:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v622/Jagwaar/Sloane5_zpsfbdee107.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Deacon Sloane<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> In front of the Casino Morongo, Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open <br><hr><br><em>"The Prince might be."</em><br><br>At this, Sloane openly laughed.&nbsp; Judging by the haughty use of inflection to place specific emphasis on her words, his visitor seemed to be mistakenly under the impression he was talking about himself. <em>Himself</em>, the <em>devil</em>?&nbsp; Sloane could only <em>wish </em> he had that kind of power.&nbsp; “Well, when you meet him,” he said, rolling the cigar between his fingers and thumb before flicking the ash away, “You be sure to say hello for me.”&nbsp; But her next words sobered him, even though he found her rapid trip from high literature to low as a reliable source for the truths of life highly amusing.&nbsp; &nbsp;<br><br>“If dime novels are where you did your research my dear, then I’m afraid you’re aiming to be disappointed on all fronts,” Sloane remarked.&nbsp; “This isn’t Boston, and you’re not like to find the same kind of civility here, whether it’s counting on the kindness of strangers or how men are removed from office.”&nbsp; <br><br>Sloane gave a nod to Nicodemus in return for his greeting, relishing the moment to simply smoke and observe the activity around him, listening as the woman explained herself to Whately and he offered to escort her back to her hotel.&nbsp; Of course, he wasn’t sure which of the two of them was the lesser evil as far as that was concerned. <br><br>“Doesn’t matter, really,” Sloane replied, when she asked about the story concerning Coleman.&nbsp; “Whether Black Jack walked in here or not, the sheriff’s still dead.”&nbsp; Whateley was quick to offer his own answer, and Sloane left him to it. He didn’t even register any surprise when the still unnamed woman prattled on about Nate Hunter with the conviction of saint – though he noted the fact that she knew of him, or more, with some interest, casually tucking it away for a later time.&nbsp; Though he did lift an eyebrow when she suddenly turned on her heel and walked away, watching the woman’s sudden departure for several moments.&nbsp; <br><br><em>“Enjoy your evening, Mr. Sloan.”&nbsp; He said to the casino owner before continuing his casual stroll along main street.</em><br><br>“Same to you,” Sloane said to Nicodemus.&nbsp; “Must o’ been something I said,” he mused, before jamming the cigar back between his teeth and turning towards the Casino. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>15-03-2013, 00:58:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Deacon Sloan, notices Harley/ Closed<br><hr><br>Nicodemus inclined his head in a nod at Sloans words.&nbsp; He tended to agree that it didn't really matter who killed Coleman as, no matter the culprit, the sheriff was dead and Gomorra was deep in political movements because of it.&nbsp; “Well said, Mr. Sloan.”<br><br>He waited until the woman was well out of earshot before he shrugged his shoulders.&nbsp; “She's an odd one.&nbsp; Even by Gomorra standards.”&nbsp; <br><br>Nicodemus began his stroll, slipping his hand into an inner pocket of his jacket.&nbsp; He retrieved his tinted glasses, sliding them on his face.&nbsp; He made his way slowly away from watching eyes, made sure he was not being followed or watched, before he slipped quietly into a dark alley.<br><br>He took precautions in the alley, making sure no one was present.&nbsp; Once satisfied, he reached into another inner pocket and removed a playing card from his deck.&nbsp; Visualizing the woman he studied so recently, he dropped the card to the ground.&nbsp; The card fluttered to the ground before disappearing completely.&nbsp; The shadows grew darker around Nicodemus and there was <em>something</em> there now that wasn't there before.<br><br>“What would you have of me?”&nbsp; An inhuman voice asked in a slithering whisper.&nbsp; <br><br>“Follow the woman and report back to me.&nbsp; You are here to watch only.&nbsp; She must not note your presence.”&nbsp; He paused for a moment.&nbsp; He knew the woman would feel watched and that didn't bother him at all.&nbsp; “I wish to know where she goes and who she speaks to.”&nbsp; Nicodemus ordered quietly and without a hint of fear.&nbsp; He had done this many times before.<br><br>The inky darkness shifted slightly around him as the presence took in his request.&nbsp; “It will be done.”
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>16-03-2013, 05:49:29</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Notices Nicodemus, Marguerite, and Deacon; Open<hr>Subtlety was beyond Harley by this point, though that was probably for the best considering how badly she was failing at anything even remotely approaching subtle. Her eyes had been all for the ghost of her past that seemed inexplicably placed before her but at last a turn of the woman's head released the grip on Harley's heart as she realized it was a stranger her eyes were glued to in a most improper way. Once she noted the first difference the rest became readily apparent and relief caused her head to drop, tearing her gaze away from the small grouping to the scuffed toes of her dusty boots. Her lingering had surely been noticed and was likely not what Black Jack had meant by sending her into town to keep an eye on things. Add that to the fact that she was too far away to hear anything useful and well, this was just a moment of failure on her part. <br><br>Turning to walk away and leave the awkwardness behind, Harley found her eyes lifting despite herself to look for the red haired Whateley again. There was something about him that produced the both the urge to run the other way and the urge to move closer but for the moment the reason why lay just beyond her reach. She saw the young woman decide to move off alone and made a decision that was admittedly one part curiosity, one part reluctance to see her make her way through the evening streets unescorted. Turning from the remaining gentlemen she hesitated for only a short moment before setting her long legged stride to the task of catching up with the unknown woman while maintaining the appearance of unhurried movement. <br><br>Gradually her unease faded as she distanced herself from Whateley and Sloane and her layer of natural calm seemed to return to settle about he shoulders like a well fitted coat. She risked a glance backward but neither Sloane nor Nicodemus were where she'd seen them last and so she turned her attention back to the brunette as she fell into step beside her, a certain distance carefully maintained as she had no wish to scare her outright or be struck for her trouble. Her voice was held low as she decided to speak, though it wasn't a casual greeting or even introduction that she offered. <strong>"Seems to me you outta to be more careful, Ma'am."</strong>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>16-03-2013, 07:51:59</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Harley, Open<br><hr>Marguerite walked the street in no great hurry.&nbsp; &nbsp;The Golden Mare was just yards ahead, but what would she do when she got there?&nbsp; She didn't like being alone.&nbsp; And the prospect of the empty room - no matter how fine a room it was - waiting for her was anything but appealing.&nbsp; Besides - she had a lot to think about.&nbsp; Sloane.&nbsp; That's what Mr. Whateley had called the man with the cigar.&nbsp; Sloane - and he said he owned a Casino.&nbsp; She didn't meet many men that chose to mock her rather than talk to her.&nbsp; An odd man, and a disturbing one.&nbsp; He'd practically admitted he was a murderer.&nbsp; Which meant that either he was, or he suffered from a level of insecurity that he felt the need to intimidate with empty boasts.&nbsp; He didn't seem insecure to her.&nbsp; A dangerous man to bump into on the street.&nbsp; And an intriguing one.&nbsp; She didn't much care to be mocked as a sort of mildly amusing diversion.&nbsp; Vexed vanity wasn't a reason to consider a man interesting.&nbsp; So why was she still thinking about him?<br><br>She should be thinking about Nicodemus Whateley.&nbsp; He was nearly as disturbing a man as Sloane, if in an entirely different way.&nbsp; Attractive, sophisticated, composed, and oddly compelling.&nbsp; Compelling, but there was something there - in the eyes maybe.&nbsp; His features seemed frozen, almost dead...&nbsp; &nbsp;He could teach reserve to an Englishman, a phrase she'd heard her father use for someone just a little too...&nbsp; It was nonsense to consider him cold just because of somewhat wooden features.<br><br>She was almost at the hotel now, and something was wrong.&nbsp; So very wrong.&nbsp; Was she being watched?&nbsp; She slowed her pace half a step to gaze intently at each passerby and loafer in view.&nbsp; None seemed to pay her the slightest attention beyond the usually appreciative glance or envious glare in passing.&nbsp; It was an eerie feeling, like someone was staring at her hard enough to bore a hole down into her soul.&nbsp; Was she being followed?&nbsp; She daren't turn about to check, and no convenient window offered a mirror.&nbsp; Were those footsteps?&nbsp; Yes, but they sounded quick and sure and not furtive or sneak...<br><br><strong>"Oh!"</strong>&nbsp; She nearly jumped from her skin when the taller woman pulled alongside and spoke.&nbsp; Her heart was racing and her hand clutched her breast.&nbsp; <strong>"You startled me!"</strong>&nbsp; She accused.&nbsp; Her step faltered for half a pace, but she immediately returned to her former pace.&nbsp; Her composure returned nearly as quickly as she turned a brief sidelong glance toward the lovely stranger before turning her eyes firmly forward.&nbsp; <strong>"You were staring."</strong>&nbsp; She accused.&nbsp; Of course.&nbsp; Maybe she had been staring all this time.&nbsp; That was where the feeling of being watched came from.&nbsp; Perfectly ordinary attention from a...<br><br>The attention she was used to from women was usually catty envy.&nbsp; Jealousy that she was so much prettier and thus a threat to them and their hold on their men.&nbsp; But there were exceptions - the school chum that offered to teach her to kiss, the spinster tutor that was overly close when leaning over her shoulder as she read.&nbsp; Such women confused her - what was the point?&nbsp; A woman needed a man and a man needed a woman and it was all quite proper and even wonderful.&nbsp; So why would a woman want her in that way?<br><br>And why was she even thinking about the matter at all?&nbsp; Oh yes, because this pretty stranger had been watching her so intently that she felt eyes on her.&nbsp; Which she still felt, though it was less disturbing now that she wasn't alone.&nbsp; Was the woman watching her still, staring as they walked side-by-side?&nbsp; It hardly seemed possible she tall beauty was the source of Marguerite's feeling, since her presence alleviated much of the dread.<br><br>She flashed another quick sideways glance at the woman, intending on catching her in the stare and confirming the suspicion that she was the source of the eerie feeling.&nbsp; Only she wasn't staring at that moment.&nbsp; The woman's eyes were forward, watching the street and their footing on the uneven boardwalk.&nbsp; So she wasn't the source of the vague, unsettling feeling of being watched then.<br><br>Her sidelong glance was only meant to confirm her suspicion, to catch the woman staring at her.&nbsp; Only a brief flicker and done.&nbsp; But that brief flicker noted the woman's mannish clothing, her confident stride, the gun on her hip, and the lovely lines of her smooth cheek and delicate jaw.&nbsp; She really was beautiful, and apparently unconcerned about it.&nbsp; <br><br>Curious.&nbsp; Marguerite cast another brief sidelong glance at the woman that insisted on walking beside her.&nbsp; It was a curious glance through the lashes, meant to be furtive and quick.&nbsp; Only this time the tall woman was looking, catching her in what might be construed as a flirty glance!&nbsp; Why had she looked again!?&nbsp; <br><br>She hastily looked away, pushing her chin up in an attempt to establish dignity she did not feel.&nbsp; Looking forward, but not down, she failed to notice the unevenness of the boardwalk and was in danger of a serious misstep.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>19-03-2013, 04:21:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Open<hr>Harley hardly flinched at the accusation in the woman's tone over being startled. Instead she bowed her head in apology, making a small attempt to look at least somewhat contrite as she spoke in her low Texas drawl. <strong>“A thousand pardons ma'am. Weren't my intention to frighten ya none.”</strong> Though the slight quirk of her lips might have made that statement seem a little less than the full truth. <br><br>It wasn't as though she were some slip of a girl, barely noticeable as she made her way here and there. Likely if the woman was spooked then it was her own doing. However, considering the company she had just left Harley supposed it might show she did indeed have a lick of sense somewhere in that head of hers. Neither Sloane nor the Whateley were men to tangle with carelessly.&nbsp; Hence her desire to warn the young woman just now.<br><br>Turning her attention to the boardwalk, Harley let the second accusation roll off her in the same easy manner she had the first, only this time there was no apology offered as her shoulders hitched up and fell carelessly. <strong>“I might have looked your way darlin'. Though I woulda thought a Lady as fair as you outta be used to that much by now.”</strong> She certainly wasn't going to apologize for her own ghosts and the other woman did seem to be the sort to turn a head or twelve. She was almost sure the darlin' was used to crooking her lil' ol' finger and havin' several strapping men come running to see what it was she required. She'd find plenty of that sort around here same as anywhere but she might also find a few who's attention she really didn't want. Hopefully she had brains to complement her beauty.<br><br>Aware of the looks being slanted her way, she kept her eyes on the path ahead and offered no further words as the two walked on. She didn't see a reason to complain when a beautiful woman wanted to look at her, though she of course didn't make any assumptions as to the reason behind her interest. Assumptions could get a body into a whole heap a trouble 'round here. She was aware she didn't fit the typical image but while she didn't purposely draw attention to herself, neither did she bother trying to be what she wasn't. <br><br><em>Maybe if you had she wouldn't have left...</em><br><br>The words slid through her mind before she could squash them down but Harley knew full well that following that thought would only lead to trouble. There wasn't any sense of lingering over something that could never be and she had long ago laid those demons to rest. There was no regret in her, she had done the right thing after all and wouldn't hesitate to do it the same way if she had it to do all over again, but of course just because she was ready to accept the loss she felt and move on that didn't mean the memories just up and evaporated. <br><br>Turning curious dark eyes on her companion for the moment, she traced the woman's lovely profile and wondered just how she could have mistaken her for Gem in the first place. From this close she could see quite plainly the woman looked very little like the one from her past. Gem had been pretty for sure but her appeal had come from the almost shy innocence she had radiated and that sharp mind she hid behind those cornflower blue eyes. Whereas the woman beside her was without a doubt one of the most beautiful creatures she'd ever laid eyes on... and she knew it. Not knew it in the way that Harley understood her features could be appealing in the right light, but rather in the way a snake knew it was deadly; it was just in her blood. The way she carried herself spoke to that and Harley couldn't help but wonder how such a young woman had come to be in a place like The Maze seemingly alone. <br><br>There was another glance cast her way and though she could have played it off and looked away, Harley leveled a lopsided grin at her unwitting companion. Predictably the young woman looked away with haste, her chin lifting so high she wondered if people twenty paces off might not be able to see clean up her nose and Harley had to bite back a low chuckle. Still the beauty's hasty reaction put her at a distinct disadvantage as she wasn't much paying attention to her surroundings, something that was further proven by the fact she had made no move to avoid the uneven portion of the boardwalk. <br><br>With barely a hitch in her stride, Harley closed the small distance she'd left between them, her gaze caressing the other woman's cheek in a manner far more intimate than was probably proper between two women while her hand sought to grasp her slim fingers. Her other hand followed quickly to brace the woman's elbow as she raised her hand and perhaps because she could, she whispered, <strong>"Watch your step now darlin'. I'd feel right guilty if you hurt yourself trying to sneak glances at lil' ol' me."</strong> A wink followed because something about this woman seemed to demand it but just as quickly as she had come to the woman's aid, she released her and moved away, the whole exchange taking barely a few seconds. Certainly not long enough for anyone looking on to read into.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>19-03-2013, 14:59:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Outside the Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Harley, Open<br><hr>The compliment was a good one.&nbsp; Off-hand and vaguely dismissive, as if her beauty were obvious,&nbsp; but of no great import. Simultaneously tweaking and vexing her vanity. Still, the taller woman had noticed and felt the need to remark, and Marguerite was inordinately pleased that she had.&nbsp; Almost - a barely-hinted smile twitched at the corners of her soft lips, though it didn't quite materialize.<br><br>The move to take her arm was so fluid and natural that Marguerite accepted the assistance without a thought.&nbsp; The hands grasping her were strong, able, and sure.&nbsp; She took direction from those hands perfectly, instantly obeying even the most subtle pressure against her elbow or fingers or palm.&nbsp; She navigated the hazard effortlessly and with nary a glance to check her footing, her nimble step responding with instant precision to the taller girl's wordless guidance.<br><br>Her nose might be in the air, and her attitude might appear to the eye quite proper and even stiff.&nbsp; But the ripe body stuffed into the slightly-too-tight plaid dress responded much to quickly and far to completely under the lanky outlaw's easy command. Perhaps it was her years of ball room experience, but the young Lady certainly knew how to follow a lead. It took a confident touch to seize control of the spirited socialite, but once that control was established she obeyed superbly.<br><br>Not that her manner was quite so proper and stiff at the moment - a flush rose from her breast to cover her neck and her face high up the cheek in a rosy blush.&nbsp; <strong>"I was not peeking - sneaking!"</strong>&nbsp; She hastily amended the lie, keeping her focus firmly forward as they walked.&nbsp; Apparently, she ignored the wink entirely, though her flush deepened to a more vivid shade.<br><br>After a dozen steps - several of which over another rough patch of walkway where she accepted entirely unneeded assistance with the same natural grace and superbly obedient response - she spoke.&nbsp; <strong>"You are quite bold."</strong>&nbsp; She noted, her gaze still focused ahead and noting that the boardwalk was about to end at a street crossing.<br><br>The forward gaze broke as they stopped at the end of the walk.&nbsp; Bright eyes flashed sidelong and up at her lovely companion, her cold features struggling to contain a smile that was a bit too imperfectly controlled.&nbsp; <strong>"Well..."</strong>&nbsp; She let the word hang for a moment before adding.&nbsp; <strong>"This is my hotel."</strong>&nbsp; They'd actually passed the main door, which was behind them three paces.&nbsp; Almost, but not quite facing the street corner.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>"Thank you for the escort, kind si..."</strong>&nbsp; She lost all control of the smile then, almost breaking into laughter which she suppressed to a single musical giggle.&nbsp; <strong>"How silly of me, to mistake you for a...&nbsp; Thank you."</strong>&nbsp; She cut herself off quickly.&nbsp; <strong>"I felt ever so much safer with you."</strong><br><br>And she had, for the last few minutes she's almost forgotten the feeling of being watched.&nbsp; But now - while they stood motionless and she faced the prospect of being alone in her room, the feeling loomed ominous and foreboding.&nbsp; It had a weight she could feel pressing down on her shoulders.<br><br>So instead of taking her leave, she stood there, feeling awkward and silly.&nbsp; Perhaps if she sat in the small tea room off the lobby the presence wouldn't weigh so heavy.&nbsp; Though she could hardly sit up all night just because of a girlish feeling.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>21-03-2013, 01:46:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a4/Flatbush.png)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Charlie Flatbush<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Law Dogs (Deputy)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> Sheriff's Office<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Mycroft, Open<hr><br>Charlie Flatbush leaned against one of the wooden beams that rose up from the wooden walkway to support the small overhang in front of the Sheriff's Office.&nbsp; The place also doubled as the city's Jail, and keeping an eye on the nightly run of drunks and belligerents was the short straw of morning assignments.&nbsp; In the evening, they were wasted and smelled bad, but in the morning they were surly and smelled worse.<br><br>So Flatbush's escape to the deck wasn't so much a dereliction of duty as it was a much needed break for his sanity.&nbsp; He puffed on his pipe, inhaling the scent of tobacco, happy to be free from the catcalls of the drunk and disorderly.&nbsp; He took a long toke, letting the ember in the pipe's bowl flare red and pulled the smoke up through the stem, before practicing his hand at blowing a small 'o' of the smoke.<br><br>"Deputy!!!" came an anguished call from within.&nbsp; "I gotta take a shit!!"<br><br>Flatbush turned over his shoulder.<br><br>"That's why the bucket has been provided, sir."<br><br>"It's - it's full!"<br><br>Flatbush gave a chuckle, and took another long toke on his pipe.&nbsp; They'd all be released in another few minutes, but he didn't mind making them suffer a few more minutes.&nbsp; Besides which, he didn't much care to go back into that room and pass the blood stain again, if he could help it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>21-03-2013, 05:51:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Open<hr>Bold, the young woman had called her. Harley wanted to laugh over that. She wasn't bold. Not really. She simply didn't allow appearances and things labeled "proper" to determine her every move. Seemed to her that the right thing to do was offer assistance where it was needed, appearances be damned. She had fallen into step beside the woman to offer her services as an escort and she didn't suppose it would reflect to well upon her if she let the woman face plant simply because she chose the wrong moment to stick her nose in the air. <br><br>Of course not everyone felt the way she did about such things but the woman beside her hadn't so much as flinched over her help. In fact, she had responded to Harley in a manner that the taller woman couldn't help but notice. From the way the slim beauty had followed her lead so flawlessly, her body responding fully to Harley's unspoken cues, to the rather becoming flush that blossomed under that smooth, perfect skin, it was no wonder that the past few minutes saw Harley's awareness of her companion swell to something not at all "proper". <br><br>Coming to a stop as the young woman did so, Harley swiveled on her heels to face her. As she did so she took quick stock of their surroundings not noting much of interest to her in particular. <strong>"I see."</strong> The Texan drawled in vague response to the other woman's declaration, her gaze shifting toward the main doors they had passed for but a moment before returning to settle upon a set of lovely eyes whose color she had yet to truly determine. One moment they seemed green... the next blue... though to be fair this was the first moment she'd managed a a good look.<br><br><strong>"A very nice place you've chosen there."</strong> She honestly hadn't the faintest idea how good or bad it was in truth, she was just trying to be social. Harley didn't often pay for rooms and if she did it was usually one over one of the saloons she frequented. There was a reason she rarely spoke more'n a few words at a time if she could help it. <br><br>Dark brows climbed high though as the woman spoke again and this time the grin Harley offered was full and unrestricted while genuine amusement filled her. If she was supposed to be offended by the slight to her apparent femininity she'd missed that notice. Granted, very few looking at her ever mistook her for anything other than a female but there were certainly times when she wish she could hide it better. Unfortunately, despite the tight binding she wore her breasts were large enough that she couldn't hide them completely. <strong>"I assure you, despite lacking certain equipment I have all that's necessary to see you to safety, darlin'."</strong> Her hands went to her hips, drawing attention to the Colt holstered at her left side. It wasn't a matter of bragging either. It was just the truth as she saw it and the shrug she offered spoke to that.<br><br>She thought perhaps the young woman would excuse herself from her company and run off into the hotel, which would have been fine with Harley as that meant she'd done what she'd sought to do, but for some reason the young woman seemed to linger. Harley hesitated herself though it was possibly for a different reason as she yet again recalled how the woman had responded to her handling just minutes before. She debated with herself for a moment, trying to decide whether it was in her best interest to push a little or if she should just continue on her way but as the seconds ticked by without any forward progress from either of them, she became aware of a creeping sensation. <br><br>Surprisingly the feeling was not one that was new to her, she had felt it randomly at other times when about town but never had attributed it to any source but her own imagination. She knew were she to cast a look around she would find nothing out of place but that didn't stop the hairs on her neck from rising with her growing awareness. Something was off.<br><br>Looking to the beauty she considered for all of another second before offering a suggestion, one born of a suspicion that the young woman felt what she did but was not so content to brush it aside. <strong>"If it would help, I could escort you to your door, ma'am. You know, to make sure everything's alright before I leave you to your evening."</strong> Her face and tone were serious now, devoid of anything that could be misconstrued as ill intent or even mischief. Her concern was once again for the Lady's safety... seemed she really was a sucker for a pretty face.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>21-03-2013, 19:26:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Outside the Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Harley, Open<br><hr><div class="floatright">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/de/Marguerite_Tuerny_10.jpg)</div><br>The face looking down at her was lovely - a face feminine in it's every curve and contour.&nbsp; And yet there was something distinctly masculine in the look she was getting.&nbsp; Perhaps it was the aura of calm confidence, or the air of coiled deadly power the taller woman displayed.&nbsp; Harley's eyes were dark - either deeply brown or the black of a native or a Mexican - the imperfect light out here in the street made it impossible for Marguerite to tell for certain.&nbsp; Their eyes met for a moment, and then she demurely looked away.&nbsp; Flicking a glance to the side, and then looking to the woman's gun, her focus returned to Harley's face, though slyly at first, a quick glance through thick lashes.&nbsp; She hastily turned her focus to the nearby window as the gun-woman appraised the hotel.&nbsp; Shy as a darting fawn, her gaze returned to the other woman's darkly flashing eyes when their attention turned back to her.&nbsp; <br><br>This time their eyes locked, holding as Harley commented on the hotel. <strong> "It is adequate."</strong>&nbsp; She agreed to the appraisal of her accommodations.&nbsp; <strong>"Much better than what I expected out here in the Maze."</strong>&nbsp; She added, keeping the conversation alive because the alternate was being alone with her eerie watcher.&nbsp; The tall woman didn't seem the type to plant roots, and she suspected that Harley didn't call anyplace home.&nbsp; At least anyplace near Gomorra. <strong>"Where are you staying?"</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>She flashed a wide grateful smile up at the taller woman as the woman stated her ability to protect her.&nbsp; Marguerite believed every word of it, and her smile softened shyly.&nbsp; <strong>"I know it's silly, but I have this dreadful feeling of being watched.&nbsp; But with you here it doesn't seem so threatening."</strong>&nbsp; A confession she instantly wished she hadn't made, but wasn't going to retract.&nbsp; Only... a lack of equipment?&nbsp; Surely the pistol was adequate to ensure their safety!&nbsp; And then she connected the dots between her slip regarding gender and any equipment that might be lacking, and she blushed scarlet, suppressing a girlish giggle by pressing fingers to soft smiling lips.&nbsp; <strong>"I think I might need protection from you!"</strong>&nbsp; She accused around the fingers and the suppressed giggle.&nbsp; <strong>"You and your equipment."</strong> She finally tore her eyes away, looking down at the gun-fighting rig circling the other woman's full hips.<br><br>She looked up again when Harley offered to escort her to the door.&nbsp; <strong>"I don't know."</strong>&nbsp; She hedged.&nbsp; <strong>"It is only three steps after all."</strong>&nbsp; She considered.&nbsp; <strong>"Would you like to come in?&nbsp; There's a little dining area off the lobby.&nbsp; We could have tea or some coffee.&nbsp; I... I just don't want to be alone right now."</strong>&nbsp; She'd had that horrible nightmare last night - unlike any of the nightmares that went before.&nbsp; More vivid and more disturbing even than the sight of her mother afire, running toward her with arms extended for a loving embrace. First the nightmare, and now this feeling of being watched.&nbsp; She hoped such things weren't usual in Gomorra.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>21-03-2013, 19:36:20</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0b/Msgreene.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Miss Maybelle Greene<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Outside the Golden Mare <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Harley, Open<br><hr>Just inside the hotel, visible from the street entryway, a familiar face sat in the dining lobby.&nbsp; She sipped at tea, her skirts perfectly arranged around her.&nbsp; Miss Greene's sharp eyes recognized Harley, slipping back to the pretty socialite who accompanied her.&nbsp; They flashed with a certain intrigue, and she raised the teacup to her lips. taking another careful sip.<br><br>There was that strange, otherworldly sense of being watched, but there was a considerably more ordinary one, too.&nbsp; Gem's old madame knew Harley's face, and knew about their myriad rendezvous.&nbsp; It was difficult to read her face, but there was the hint of an amused smile, or perhaps a wisp of intrigue at the company Harley kept - or perhaps it was the company Margeurite kept.&nbsp; Regardless, she didn't rise from the couch, nor beckon to the two women.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>24-03-2013, 03:58:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr><br>Standing in the alley, Nicodemus rested against the building, his back pressed against the rough wood.&nbsp; He took a contented breath as the summoned creature made it's way after the target.&nbsp; He had tried hard to be nice and introduce himself but it wasn't in his nature to find out about others through conversation.&nbsp; Having failed in his attempt, it seemed only right to find out about the new woman in town through tried and true means.&nbsp; As he pondered the night thus far, he allowed himself a private, wicked smile knowing he was hidden in the shadows of the alley.<br><br>Patient, he stood nearly motionless in the darkened alley for almost an hour before stepping back onto main street.&nbsp; Crossing the street, he pushed his tinted glasses up then slipped his hand back into his pocket, his face schooled to neutrality.&nbsp; He began yet another casual stroll along the other side of main street, watching with his intense gaze even as others moved a distance away from him, circling wide to avoid potentially brushing against him as they went about their evening.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>xPeachyPuff</strong> on <strong>27-03-2013, 23:26:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://pursuitist.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/kate-upton2.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Annabel Montgomery.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876.<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning.<br><strong>Location:</strong> At the Wishing Well.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open.<br><hr> <br><br>Light humming and a gentle pluck of guitar strings could be heard over the sound of occasional footsteps and casual chatter, creating a soothing melody that floated the gentle breeze like fine grains of sand being lifted from the dusty floor. The sun was warm on her skin, but it didn't bother her thanks to the affable cool breeze. Gomorra seemed almost peaceful for a change, or at least her current area was. People seemed content to just pass her, giving no mind to her sitting alone or to her music. Of course, Annabel hardly paid attention to any of them either; she was too focused on writing. She was sat on a long wooden bench with no back to it; a simple length of wood held up by some stronger object. Her guitar was in its usual place, resting on the tops of her thighs comfortably. The blond had her head down as she hummed a tune to herself, occasionally slipping out a line or two. When she liked something she'd sang, Annabel made sure to write it down with her pencil on the small pad beside her. Her scrawl was messy and unrefined, but she understood it at that was all that was needed. Her fingers would pluck the strings of her guitar to create a quiet tune, and she would either jot down the notes, tune the instrument or try another melody altogether. She was quite happy, sat there, creating music on such a beautiful day, alone; it was peaceful. <br><br>Annabel was dressed in something simple; nothing like what she wore to a shift at the Saloon. A pair of dusty, worn-out denim shorts fixed with a simple brown, worn leather belt was what she had dressed her bottom half in while a white and baby blue checked shirt, also dusty and worn, was buttoned up her torso, hanging slightly over the shorts with the sleeves rolled messily up past her elbows. On her feet were a pair of undusted, scuffed, light-brown cowboy boots that reached just below her bare knees. The detailing on the outer and inner boot was faded, but had obviously been some sort of black stitching which matched the heel and rubber sole of the boots. Her long, blond hair had been pulled back roughly into a high ponytail, nearing the top of her head, though some loose wisps escaped to fall down the back of her neck and around her face, its usual wave still apparent. <br><br><em>"I know your every move..."</em> She paused, frowning a little at herself as she tested an idea. She then paused, glancing up from her guitar for a moment to look around, shifting ever so slightly on the hard bench. Annabel's deep blue eyes scanned the area, almost skeptical for a moment, the well dead ahead of her, before she returned her attention to her baby. "C'mon, baby, don't you fail me now." She let out a small, private laugh for a moment as she spoke to her guitar, then sharply lifted her head to make sure nobody had intruded on her moment. Thankfully, nothing particularly stood out to her, so she lowered her head, closed her eyes and began playing her melody again from the beginning of what she had; a sweet, soulful harmony that she kept quiet and intimate.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>28-03-2013, 05:48:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Miss Greene, Open<hr>A shrug was given to the inquiry concerning where she was staying for the night. It was a most eloquent gesture that spoke to the truly cavalier attitude Harley held regarding her potential lodgings—or lack thereof. She didn't have much in the way of coin on her and she certainly had no intention on wasting it on the meager comforts such a small amount would earn her, not when she had no idea just how long Jack was expectin' her to hang about town. Wouldn't be smart to empty her pouch too quickly with so much unrest about town. Of course, a thought occurred to her then that had her dark eyes flashing with something that was most definitely not carefree or easy as she regarded the beautiful brunette before her but she did her best to shove it down before it could take root and lead her headlong into trouble. She was supposed to be keepin' her nose clean after all.<br><br>Harley couldn't be sure just how much the woman was able to read off her but their exchange continued on and the lanky gunner found herself fully suckered in. She couldn't be sure if it was a ploy but the admittance of the woman's fear seemed to ring true to her ears and had the added bonus of playing to her concerns, easing that playful spark into something more serious and wary. <br><br>In contrast, the look given to her as her original quip was understood in full sent a shiver up the smooth length of her spine and set a weighty, distracting warmth to unfurling low in her abdomen. She'd made her move with far less invitation before but the notion of just why she'd ended up standing outside the Golden Mare kept her restrained. Had Jasper been there at that moment he'd have taken one good look at her and accused her of thinking with her imaginary cock but in truth it was equal parts attraction she didn't need and genuine concern that kept Harley planted before the younger woman. <br><br><strong>“Aww, now shucks ma'am. Ain't no need to be concerned about lil' ol' me,”</strong> she assured her, though the curve of her lips and the heat in her gaze may have suggested otherwise. It was her full intention to mind her manners for the time being though and as though to clarify that, the tall woman's features sobered to match that intent.<br><br>Her gaze once again roving due to the unsettling chill that lingered, Harley nodded once in reply to the woman's invitation to come in, barely keeping the grimace off her face at the mention of tea and coffee. It seemed she would have to take a turn at playing civilized company for a short while, something of which she was capable but didn't necessarily enjoy in and of itself. Madame Rose hadn't raised a heathen after all but it had been a while since such behavior had been deemed necessary on Harley's part. Luckily for her companion, the outlaw's desire to see her safe outweighed her distaste. <br><br><strong>“It would be my absolute pleasure to keep you company for a while darlin'. Least until you feel a mite more settled.”</strong> She glanced about once more before looking toward the hotel where her gaze landed upon a figure she supposed she outta have noticed sooner. <br><br>For some reason her level of wary caution jumped a notch as though Miss Greene were the source of her discomfort but that didn't stop a small smile from appearing on her otherwise serious face. Looking away with barely an acknowledgment she looked to Marguerite and gestured toward the doors of the Golden Mare knowing full well they'd have to pass the woman. <strong>“Shall we?”</strong> It wasn't a conscious decision but something in the gunslinger had assumed responsibility for this stranger's safety, at least for the time being anyway, and that unfortunately took precedence over her desire to avoid reminders of things better off forgotten. One day this tendency of hers was going to cause her real grief she knew but for now her interest was in getting the woman off the boardwalk and hopefully away from the eerie feeling that seemed to grow the longer they stood there.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>28-03-2013, 17:31:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Harley, Open<br><hr>Marguerite noticed the glance toward the aloof woman, and the tiny smile that followed.&nbsp; <strong>"Thank you so much."</strong>&nbsp; She replied to the inquiry that they go in.&nbsp; She hesitated, and then remembering the woman's earlier reaction to her mistaken address, she added when a natural flow.&nbsp; <strong>"Sir."</strong> She flashed her own brief, slightly playful smile.<br><br>She glanced at the elegant woman across the room as the entered the lobby.&nbsp; <strong>"You keep calling me darling."</strong>&nbsp; She noted to Harley when the reached a corner table.&nbsp; <strong>"Thank you."</strong>&nbsp; She interrupted herself as she allowed Harley to help her into a chair. <strong>"That's quite forward of you, don't you think?"</strong>&nbsp; She continued after taking her seat with the same calm grace she usually presented.<br><br>Of course the woman didn't know her name.&nbsp; This was going to be a continuing problem out here in the untamed west.&nbsp; Proper introductions were a chicken-or-the-egg situation when one was a stranger. If one knew no one, then there was no one to introduce one, and without proper introduction, one was not able to make new acquaintance.<br><br>Finally, she bowed to the inevitable - one must adapt, after all.&nbsp; The last eighteen months had proven to her that one could adapt to anything that didn't kill them.&nbsp; <strong>"My name is Marguerite."</strong>&nbsp; She informed the lanky cowgirl.&nbsp; <strong>"Mrs. Marguerite Landry."</strong>&nbsp; She wondered if she should offer a hand, or just nod?&nbsp; Offering a hand for a brush of lips seemed silly, both on account of her companions gender, and her manner.&nbsp; Such niceties of manner didn't really fit, out here in the wilds.&nbsp; Of course, Nathan had done quite well in regard to manners.&nbsp; She decided, since she was seated, to simply nod a gracious and respectful nod in lieu of a curtsey.&nbsp; <strong>"Late of Baltimore."</strong><br><br>When the girl came around she asked for tea, and while they waited she shot another glance toward Miss Greene. <strong> "She is lovely.&nbsp; And seems quite refined.&nbsp; Who is she?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked her companion. <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>30-03-2013, 04:26:22</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0b/Msgreene.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Miss Maybelle Greene<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Inside the Golden Mare <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Harley, Open<br><hr>Miss Greene continued to sip upon her tea, but as Harley came within and prepared herself to be seated, there were gazes between a few od the other patrons.&nbsp; The gunslinger's manly attire and dusty clothes clearly impressed no one, and there were small, inaudible comments whispered to one another behind the backs of hands.&nbsp; <br><br>For a moment, one of the valets prepared to approach, summoning the courage to face down the woman with a gun on her hip.&nbsp; Harley'd seen the look in his eyes before - whether because of the color of her skin or the manner of her dress, 'polite' society was often ready to scorn her coin, and her company.&nbsp; But as he approached, Miss Greene simply raised a hand, and the valet halted like a dog on her leash.&nbsp; She brushed him back behind the front desk with a flick of her fingers, and he swallowed, nodding.<br><br>Miss Greene offered a faint smile to the unusual pair, and then returned to her tea and her scone.&nbsp; The valet approached, assiduously ignoring Harley to address Margeurite.<br><br>"Mrs. Landry, some effects arrived for you, and were placed upstairs in your room."&nbsp; He smiled faintly, teenage eyes drifting momentarily to Margeurite's neck, before focusing his attention back upon her eyes.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>esclavage</strong> on <strong>30-03-2013, 05:49:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3d/Ginny_03a.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Whateley Family<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> At the Wishing Well<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Annabel Montgomery<br><hr><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;A jaunty whistle escaped Ginny's lips as she hummed a few off-key bars to the latest song she'd learned from her newest friend, Annie.&nbsp; It had been one that she had been playing every night at the New Moon Saloon where Ginny went to watch.&nbsp; The girl definitely had some talent in those fingers of hers, enough that she could easily be&nbsp; part of a traveling show if she wanted.&nbsp; Though she got the impression that Annabel wasn't too big a fan of the road.&nbsp; Or anything for that matter.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;She'd just finished up at Casino Morongo and was still pretty stoked about meeting the real life <em>"Spooky"</em>.&nbsp; He really did live up to the stories they told in the novels about him.&nbsp; Part of her wondered if she could get him to personally pen a few of those older, more worn books before dismissing that desire out of her head.&nbsp; Ginny wasn't no fool and that seemed like a foolish thing to do.&nbsp; And then, there was Matthew Cuthbert.&nbsp; He had certainly given as good as he got and then some.&nbsp; It was true; he was most likely better than her at cards.&nbsp; Part of her didn't really care; after all, it was just a pastime, a way to hear the latest gossip and also earn a little extra coin.&nbsp; She didn't take it seriously or anything like that.&nbsp; On the other hand, she hated to lose to anyone and so part of her wanted to get better.&nbsp; Much better.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Ginny had a feeling that he'd be back before long and a regular to her table now that they'd been introduced.&nbsp; And who knew?&nbsp; A lazy smile came to her lips; he certainly was easy on the eyes and quite the charmer.&nbsp; &nbsp;Not that she ever planned on anything ever getting serious with him, but still, it was fun to make eyes now and then.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;But that was for a later date.&nbsp; Now, the young Whateley was busy simply moseying along, going about her business.&nbsp; Though admittedly, she didn't have much business since her days were simply trying to burn through the coin she got from Granny.&nbsp; And no matter what she did with it or what she bought, there always seemed to be more of it waiting for her.&nbsp; In fact, the young Whateley was so engrossed in her own thoughts that she almost missed Annabel sitting by the Wishing Well.&nbsp; But those soulful notes drifted up to her ears as she jerked her head to spy the blonde as a mischievous smile came to her lips.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;So stealthily as she could, Ginny snuck up on her friend.&nbsp; Creeping along as a few folk paused to look at how silly she looked, all crouched in the broad daylight, as she got close.&nbsp; Thankfully, Annabel was too engrossed in her music as Ginny then let out an enthusiastic embrace, wrapping up the older blonde in it, her right arm coming around her neck and left just underneath the swell of her breasts as she hugged her and rocked back and forth. <strong> "Hey thar, sunshine."</strong>&nbsp; Ginny said as she peered at the scrawled notes that Annabel was writing down.&nbsp; Of course, none of it meant a thing to her so she gave a half-shrug.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"Miss muh?"</strong>&nbsp; Her voice was teasing; after all, it'd only been less than a day since they had spent time together.&nbsp; Affectionately, the young Whateley nuzzled the long, blonde ponytail and almost giggled as it tickled her.&nbsp; <strong>"Ah swear, yuh even wear the same stuff ah do,"</strong> she remarked, commenting on Annabel's state of dress.&nbsp; After all, Ginny owned a similar blue-and-white checkered shirt though her was much, much newer.&nbsp; And at that, she gave a frown.&nbsp; She wasn't about to let her new best friend go threadbare.&nbsp; <strong>"Annie, we needs tah go shoppin'.&nbsp; Ah gots muh an itch tah spend sum serious money.&nbsp; And yur comin' with."&nbsp; </strong>There was no use arguing; after all, Annabel had found out how single-minded Ginny could be when she wanted something.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>30-03-2013, 05:56:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Miss Greene, Open<hr>When the lovely brunette took it upon herself to deliberately call her Sir, Harley's sober demeanor immediately shattered. A low, sultry chuckle rolled past her lips but keeping in mind just where she was she offered no comment that might be taken out of context. <br><br>Acutely aware of her surroundings and her failure to conform to certain standards deemed appropriate by society, she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes the moment the whispers began. People really were quite predictable. Thankfully for the lot of them she wasn't the sort to start trouble for trouble's sake, so she kept her eyes on her companion, concerning herself with none but her.<br><br>As a suitable table was picked out, Harley was polite enough to assist the Lady before rounding the table to seat herself with the best vantage point. <strong>"Naw, ain't forward at all darlin',"</strong> she drawled with a smirk, deliberately repeating the pet name. She didn't actually know the woman's name but even if she had she wasn't sure she would have used it anyway. Most people saw such endearments as being personal and overly familiar but Harley was just the opposite. A person's given name, now that was personal. It carried with it a world of meaning and if used right, it could be wielded as quite a weapon. The wrong name whispered in the night could inspire the deepest of fear. Hell, there were folks on this planet who could command armies simply behind a name! Names could be right powerful. Not to mention, if her lover was whisperin' in the dark it was her name she wanted to hear from their lips, not some generic endearment that could belong to any Bill, Bob, or John. <br><br>Course, she didn't figure this displaced Lady would much understand that. She was concerned with what was proper, and though Harley couldn't fault her for it, neither would she pretend to be something other than what she was.<br><br><strong>"Well now, <em>Mrs.</em> Marguerite Landry, late of Baltimore, it's a pleasure."</strong> There was some emphasis on the honorific as she nodded politely in return, her dark eyes focused quite keenly on that lovely face though she could in fact see the valet start over toward her. Knowing what was brewing in that tiny pea brain of his Harley adjusted her posture to a long limbed sprawl that was decidedly out of place in the fine hotel and those brown eyes that were capable of holding such warmth and even heat went flat and hard. Her gun was easily visible, highlighted almost by her position, yet her hand never neared it as she appeared otherwise unconcerned by his--or anyone's--intent. <strong>"Name's Harley. Just Harley."</strong> She replied briefly, not bothering to expand as she watched the valet halt in his tracks and return to his post.<br><br>She nodded again then, though this time it was directed toward Miss Greene and the faint smile she offered. She figured the woman probably thought her less than dirt in truth but decent was decent and she had never been otherwise toward Harley... not to her face anyhow. <br><br><strong>"That'd be Miss Greene. A right fine lady, far as I know anyway."</strong> She shrugged not really wanting to get into it, though she was tempted to look the Madame's way again as the valet came over to speak to Marguerite. As he stepped close, Harley noted with some amusement that he was clearly ignoring her presence and she was amiable to doing the same for the sake of avoiding a headache.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>30-03-2013, 20:26:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<br><hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Harley, Open<br><hr><strong>"The pleasure is mine, Harley."</strong> It was an odd name - was it her given name, or her surname?&nbsp; Or some sort of nickname?&nbsp; Whichever the case, the woman obviously did not want to elaborate.&nbsp; <br><br>Marguerite wondered why she was here with this strange, oddly-named woman?&nbsp; Her desire not to be alone was easily satisfied by sitting in the cheery lobby drinking tea - there was plenty of activity in the room, more than enough to take the edge off the feeling of surveillance.&nbsp; But the people here were... they were like herself, back when her life was grand and disaster something she experienced only in books:&nbsp; They were concerned with what was proper and by appearances.&nbsp; This tall, beautiful woman chose not to accept her role as a female, defined by her father's or her husband's success, but to define herself.&nbsp; One had to respect that.<br><br><strong>"You know Harley."</strong>&nbsp; She prefaced as she stirred a tiny dollop of honey into her tea.&nbsp; <strong>"I came to Gomorra to investigate a mine I inherited."</strong>&nbsp; She sipped at the tea, satisfied that it was right, she set the cup down to settle.&nbsp; <strong>"I find the whole area quite alarming and dangerous, but I do want to prove out my claim."</strong>&nbsp; <br><br>She paused when the valet approached, nodding at his information.&nbsp; <strong>"Thank you."</strong>&nbsp; She flashed the man a pro-forma and not overly-inviting smile.&nbsp; <strong>"I'm quite relieved that my things have arrived."</strong>&nbsp; She wondered just what exactly Nathan had sent?&nbsp; Perhaps she should go up and check?<br><br>Deciding against it, she turned her focus back to the strange woman across the table.&nbsp; <strong>"As I was saying, this is a dangerous territory.&nbsp; And I have few contacts in the area.&nbsp; If you're not otherwise engaged, perhaps you'd accompany me to the mine in the next few days?&nbsp; I'd feel much safer with you and your gun there to protect me."</strong><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>02-04-2013, 07:08:09</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/0b/Msgreene.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Miss Maybelle Greene<br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Inside the Golden Mare <br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Margeurite, Harley, Open<br><hr>The valet knew well enough when he was dismissed, and gave a small bow of his head at the dismissal.&nbsp; “Always chancy in this part of the country,” he agreed.&nbsp; He seemed to want to idle and gossip, but the place was too well known for its religious adherence to what passed for politeness in Gomorra to allow him to tarry.&nbsp; “Have a good evening, ma'am.”<br><br>Miss Greene sipped on her tea a moment longer, then set down the empty cup.&nbsp; She smoothed her own skirts, giving a polite nod to both Harley and Margeurite – though Harley knew the look in the woman's eye well enough to know they'd be speaking again later.&nbsp; She paused by the front counter, addressing the valet in low tones, before turning and painting another practiced smile on her face and venturing to the stairs, and then pausing.&nbsp; She was only a few feet from the table, polite enough to address without a presumption of formality.<br><br>“Mrs. Landry,” she interjected, then turned to Harley.&nbsp; “A thousand pardons, Harley, its so good to see you back in town.”&nbsp; She actually sounded genuine as she greeted Harley by name.&nbsp; Mrs. Landry – I do hope you don't mind the intrusion, but it occurs to me I've forgotten my manners.”&nbsp; She gave a small, light laugh.&nbsp; “The Maze seems to have that effect on people.&nbsp; I had meant to inquire if the accommodations were to your satisfaction.&nbsp; Are you settling in?”&nbsp; She hovered with one hand on the banister, clearly ready to make the momentary intrusion just that - momentary - if her presence was unwelcome.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>yesiroleplay</strong> on <strong>02-04-2013, 07:44:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/8/8f/Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg/600px-Marguerite_Tuerny_07.jpg)</div><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite Tuerny<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Harley,&nbsp; Maybelle Greene, Open<br><hr><strong>"It is no intrusion at all."</strong>&nbsp; Marguerite assured her host.&nbsp; "<strong>I'm quite satisfied, thank you.&nbsp; Your establishment deserves its reputation for excellence.&nbsp; I'm not yet settled in, but I foresee no problems in doing so."</strong>&nbsp; At that point she could have dropped the conversation and turned her attention back to Harley, wordlessly dismissing the proprietor.&nbsp; <br><br>But after a single swift glance toward the rough-dressed woman to assure herself that she wasn't inviting unwelcome company to the table, she added.&nbsp; <strong>"And I've been remiss myself."</strong>&nbsp; She stood, offering a hand to the lovely woman in the elegant dress.&nbsp; "<strong>We haven't been introduced, and given my lack of a social network out her in the wilder... here in Gomorra, there is no one to introduce us."</strong><br><br>She curtseyed with a smooth and graceful motion, the move unconscious from a lifetime of practice.&nbsp; <strong>"I'm Mrs.&nbsp; Marguerite Landry, and you know Harley."</strong>&nbsp; She nodded to Harley.&nbsp; <strong>"She tells me that you are Miss Greene?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked, continuing the rather improper introduction necessitated by the situation.&nbsp; <strong>"Would you care to join us at tea, Miss Greene?"</strong>&nbsp; She asked with warmth and a polite but genuine smile.&nbsp; <strong>"I'm afraid we only have to two cups, but I'm sure your staff could remedy that."</strong>&nbsp; There was a playful humor to the final question, a recognition that she was inviting the host to tea in her own establishment.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>esclavage</strong> on <strong>03-04-2013, 00:48:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/4c/Ginny_06a.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Whateley Family<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Marguerite, Harley, Maybelle Greene<br><hr><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <strong>"Why that's jist fascinating..."</strong>&nbsp; Ginny lied straight through her teeth, a smile plastered on her face, as she listened to the beau her mother had set her up with regal her with war stories about the latest battles he had participated in.&nbsp; Dressed in her finest, one could hardly recognize her even if they knew her.&nbsp; She was wearing an elaborately designed one piece ballgown with short sleeves, leaving her arms largely exposed, with a skirt supported by a wire-frame bustle and a voluminous petticoat so large that she had trouble moving in it.&nbsp; Pink was the order of the day along with delicate, gauzy frills both at the shoulders and the modest neckline that dipped ever so slightly to show off her pale skin and the fine golden necklace with a tiny crucifix that dangled from it.&nbsp; Elaborate scrollwork that was lily-white was at the bottom of the skirt to draw attention to the wealth invested in the silken cloth.&nbsp; To complete the image, she also wore white cotton gloves with a tiny of a frill at the end.&nbsp; Even her golden locks were pinned up with a series of tiny red ribbons and curled so they flowed all over her shoulders like an long, elegant mane of gold and her face was done up with the best beauty product that money could buy, giving her the look of a painted doll more than a living breathing person.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Absentmindedly, she stirred the cup of tea, wishing she could be at the Casino right now.&nbsp; Her fingers itched for some cards and coin and her bloomin' ass wanted to wear her comfortable breeches once more instead of this torturous metal prison.&nbsp; Though Ginny's facial expression never betrayed her discomfort.&nbsp; She was a Whateley, after all.&nbsp; Edward Baldrick was a nice enough fellow, a young, dashing First Lieutenant for the Confederacy that was obviously moving up in the command chain.&nbsp; If the young Whateley played her cards right, she could end up as a Brigadier General's wife.&nbsp; A feather to his proverbial cap.&nbsp; Prestigious for her family.&nbsp; Not that she cared a whit, of course.&nbsp; He wasn't even that bad-looking with a close-cropped black beard and a fit frame though he would soon be a full decade older than Ginny, a fact that hadn't escaped her notice.&nbsp; Still, she would thank the good Lord for small favors; the last suitor had been nearly a quarter of a century older than she was.&nbsp; Thankfully, she had managed to wriggle her way out of that particular match without too much trouble!<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;And in truth, her mother, Mary Ann, had gone to a lot of trouble to set up this first date, hoping that the two would strike it off when they meet.&nbsp; But it wasn't meant to be.&nbsp; After tonight, Edward would chase after other skirts and Ginny would have to put up with her mother's disapproval of yet another failed match-making attempt.&nbsp; The older Southern woman could convey her icy displeasure even through the terse letters of a telegram.&nbsp; But thankfully, if she just gritted her teeth it would then be over.&nbsp; Then, Ginny would continue being able to do what she did best, namely, spend the Whateley family money at an alarming rate.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;It was then that Ginny noticed that Edward's eye was wandering.&nbsp; Apparently, her noble beau's eye had found some other sight more appealing than Ginny as he seemed to crane his neck ever so slightly.&nbsp; He seemed interested in the happenings at a table towards the back.&nbsp; Even while still talking about glorious battle.&nbsp; And despite the fact that he was boring and stuffy, the young Whateley still felt a stab of irrational irritation.&nbsp; After all, it was rather rude to not even be looking at her!<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;...nevermind the hypocrisy.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<strong>"Edward?&nbsp; <em>Edward?</em>"</strong>&nbsp; Ginny emphasized his name the second time as he broke off his description about how he was readying a cavalry charge on some Union artillery.&nbsp; He seemed to be a bit surprised since this was the first time she had tried to speak with him outside of the meaningless pleasantries.&nbsp; Fixing those green Whateley eyes on him, she gently raised her cup and sipped at the tea and resisted to make a face.&nbsp; She had let it get cold in the passing of time.&nbsp; <strong>"Is thar sumthin' the matter?"</strong>&nbsp; It was a question, but not really a question, as she continued to watch him, much like she'd watch a mark at the poker table.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;"Nothing's wrong, dearest Virginia!&nbsp; It's just that your radiant beauty has stunned me so."&nbsp; He declared this with such sincerity that most women would have been sighing over his words, fanning themselves.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;But Ginny could hear a lying snake from a mile away.&nbsp; And it was obvious what had caught his attention was some other woman.&nbsp; Inwardly, the young Whateley resisted the urge to turn around and see who it was that had caught his eye.&nbsp; It wasn't becoming though it did increase her irritation another ten-fold.&nbsp; Still, appearances had to be kept as she gave a vapid, tittering laugh and allowed herself to blush a little.&nbsp; It was easy for her to fake blush with such pale skin.&nbsp; <strong>"Yur jist tryin' tah flatter muh!"</strong> she declared in mock triumph, all the while seeming pleased that he had given her such a rosy compliment.&nbsp; Her thoughts, on the other hand...<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;<em>"This'ill be the part whar he'll 'scuse himself.&nbsp; Say he needs tah go to the wash or sumethin'."</em><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;"Excuse me, Virginia.&nbsp; I need to freshen up."&nbsp; He showed her a spot of tea that he had accidentally managed to get on the cuff so his dark formal wear.&nbsp; It wasn't even visible.&nbsp; "I'll be right back."&nbsp; With that, he smoothly rose out of his seat, leaving a fuming Whateley in his wake who drank her tea tight-lipped before she angrily snatched a wafer and bit off a piece with a sharp crunch.&nbsp; They said hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, but the author had yet to see Ginny's temper...<br><br>~*~*~<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Boldly, Edward strode over to the table where Marguerite, Harley, and now Miss Greene were seated.&nbsp; Stopping in front, he gave a formal bow, his right hand resting on the ceremonial sword he wore to signify his military rank.&nbsp; A charming smile was offered to Marguerite even as those eyes of his lingered on the graceful swoop on her neck down to the front of her dress, tight across her bosom.&nbsp; Those eyes remained locked on Marguerite's ripe form even now as his gaze turned to trace the contours of her face.&nbsp; "You are far too beautiful to have come from such a small, dingy town.&nbsp; From the east?" His tone was confident, obviously this was a man who was used to be respected and used to be right.&nbsp; "I'm sorry, I know this is rather forward but it seems as if you could use an escort."&nbsp; The words were directed to Marguerite, completely choosing to ignore Harley outside of a side, flickering glance that took her in and then contemptuously discarded her.&nbsp; Though he did respectfully tilt his head in Miss Greene's direction to offer her a proper greeting as one would offer a lady.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; "It's not a safe town during the night.&nbsp; No doubt you were concerned for your safety without a <strong><em>man </em></strong>around here."&nbsp; A clear and definite snub this time sent in Harley's direction.&nbsp; Putting his hand to his chest, he continued on.&nbsp; "Edward Baldrick, First Lieutenant of the Confederate Army.&nbsp; It would be my honor&nbsp; to keep you company this evening."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Madriv</strong> on <strong>05-04-2013, 03:18:04</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mc5777GoYi1r0gffeo1_500.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> J. B. Goudeau <br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Locaxtion:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Virginia (directly);&nbsp; Marguerite, Miss Greene, Harley, Edward<br><hr><br>He swung off the buckboard with his carpet bag in hand when the mules stopped for half a breath in front of the Golden Mare and he didn't spare a glance back as the scarred hulk of a driver snapped the reins to get them moving again. He could trust the hired help to take care of the details: putting the wagon up at the warehouse, returning the mules to the livery. Goudeau smiled at the darkening sky, relieved to slide the glasses off his nose at last. The day's business had reached a most satisfactory conclusion and now a night of pleasurable possibilities stretched before him.<br><br>The proper hotel was the proverbial sight for his sore eyes. He took the steps easy, knocking the dust from his boots before pushing open the expensive, glass-paneled doors. It wasn't the first time he'd darkened them with his presence, but it had been a few months since he'd felt the need to indulge in a stay at the Mare. This last trip to Shan Fan had been a little more exciting than he preferred; the best way to make up for bad weather and stubborn cargo was with a good meal and a long, hot bath.<br><br>Agreeable company was also on the list, but such things were best left until full dark.<br><br>Goudeau paused by the door to let his eyes adjust to the lamplight and marked the figures at the dining tables with a wry smile. My, my. One slip of a soldier up again four pretty women, one of whom was none other than Miss Greene. Poor boy didn't stand a snowball's chance in The Maze.<br><br>On the other hand, maybe the pup deserved whatever shit rolled downhill and hit him in the face. Goudeau's smile darkened as he studied the pale, golden-haired goddess the soldier had turned his back on to go sniff around Miss Greene's charges. Was that truly the Whateley girl?<br><br>Work-worn as he was, a gentleman could hardly let this stand. Catching the eye of a porter, Goudeau left his bag to be collected while he strode towards the dining alcove across the lobby. He came to settle at the table nearest the little blonde girl, just over her right shoulder. Removing his hat, he leaned back just a touch - close enough that she could hear him when he spoke, yet not so close that anyone else would know he addressed her.<br><br>"You are surely an angel of mercy, mademoiselle, to have taken such kind interest in accompanying that poor, blind soldier to dinner." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Kokaine</strong> on <strong>05-04-2013, 23:53:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i167.photobucket.com/albums/u133/kokotigress/Elliquiy/Doom%20Town/c45c9351-3123-49e6-b250-c45847c7f82e_zpsdd362d0d.jpg)</div> <hr><strong>Name:</strong> Harley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown to the public<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> The Golden Mare<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Marguerite, Miss Greene, Edward(NPC), Ginny, J.B.<hr>Situations had a way of getting out of hand real quick fast and in a hurry out west. It was something Harley had noted as a girl growing up and watching grown men argue over women like they were property. It was something that had taught her early on to temper any hot blooded reactions she was likely to have if she wanted to live any length of time. The one time she forgot that rule... Well, lets just say there was a reason the lanky beauty wasn't still in Texas. <br><br>Polite regard had been given to Miss Greene upon her appearance at the table, something that was done both by virtue of the place the woman held and the few things she knew of her as well as the desire to maintain her low key presence in town. She did recognize something in the Lady's glance that said they might be destined for a conversation at some point down the line but Harley wasn't too sure if that was something she should worry about or not so she chose to put it out of her mind for the time being. As such she remained removed from the conversation, allowing the two women before her the right to their civilized exchanged while her dark eyes took another survey of the room. <br><br>Bodies, she was countin' em, mapping out their likely paths should trouble come come bursting in and what obstacles would be helpful or hindering. It was an almost unconscious thing that she frequently found herself doing, though part of her attention remained aware of those before her. However, it was for this very reason that she saw the Soldier approach and, much as she had with the valet, noted his intention even before he opened his mouth. <br><br>For what seemed the hundredth time today, Harley found herself bearing the brunt of entirely unnecessary insult. While she wasn't a hot head in the strictest sense of the word there did come a point when one simply got enough of having dirt kicked at them unnecessarily. She was supposed to be keeping her nose clean and simply keeping her eyes and ears open in the coming days, yet here she was having to listen to the typical drivel that spilled from mens' mouths when they thought themselves entitled. She wanted to point out to the good soldier that havin' a cock didn't automatically make one better qualified for anything 'cept pissing into the wind but given the company present she swallowed back the nasty barb that threatened--though anyone who cared enough to look would see it was there--and offered instead a merely casual observation in that smoky drawl of hers.<br><br><strong>"Pardon me, Lieutenant, but it'd seem ta me your forwardness is the least a your concerns. I, for one, would be a mite concerned ta trust my safety to a fellow, no matter how handsome or charming,"</strong> yes, she was laying it on a bit thick, <strong>"if he's already shown a clear tendency to abandon his post mid-duty... <em>Sir.</em>"</strong> The last was added with a wide smile so sweet one was likely to choke on it, her attention shifting briefly in the direction of the woman he'd abandoned to come running over and ogle Marguerite's bosom.<strong> "Course, being jes a lowly <em>woman</em> such as mahself... what do I know? Maybe its jes that sense a honor you got that says you should be lookin' ta put your <em>hardware</em> ta use whenever possible. Though, I been told overuse can cause its fair share a problems as well."</strong><br><br>Okay so maybe she didn't quite swallow the barb fully... oops. <br><br>There was an impishness now present in her normally sober features but she couldn't quite manage to wipe it way no matter how much she knew she should. Miss Greene's presence on served to make her feel more like a naughty child but that wasn't to be helped just now. And despite her level of amusement at the situation as a whole, Harley was still alert. She didn't know this man, there was no tellin' if he'd simply ignore her or take supreme offense to her words. Though he had put himself at a disadvantage by moving in so close with no regard toward the weapon she carried. <br><br>In any case, Harley was prepared for whatever backlash or scolding she might receive for her... slip. She maintained her seat and her casual posture rather than rising to take her leave though she could have. She'd come in, setting foot into a fine establishment clearly outside her means, to keep the young woman company until she felt better at ease and she'd done that. Miss Greene was here and could see the woman further settled if necessary. Her obligation was met and she could in fact stand and walk out the door with a clear conscience if it came to that. However, she needed to be sure that her departure was in fact what was desired. She had not forgotten the information Mrs. Landry had mentioned and the potential offer of temporary employment either but that was a secondary thought. Her gaze first went to Miss Greene, then to Mrs. Landry, looking for a sign of whether dear Edward's offer had actually been well received and if her subsequent departure was preferable.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>06-04-2013, 02:39:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				The Golden Mare thread has been moved here. (http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=167803.msg8009084#msg8009084)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Phaia</strong> on <strong>08-04-2013, 01:11:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1217.photobucket.com/albums/dd394/Vithe_rothe/Doomtown/Doomtown370_zps3203319f.jpg)</div> <br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <span style="font-size: 10pt;" class="bbc_size"> <span style="font-family: comic sans ms;" class="bbc_font">Lady Elisabeth Boyle</span></span><br><strong>Faction:</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Member of the Collegium.<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Streets of Gamorra and Bob's Fix-it shop<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; Theodore Howell<br><br><br><br><hr> <br><br>The day had not been a good one, the murder of the sheriff, Professor Hardinger's visit and then she had a string of overly annoying ladies of the city picking up various sundry. The worst had to be Mrs. Fredricks she had come in ...again...Bible in hand to quote her passages about how evil she had to be...She had lost her temper and recited scripture right back at the woman leaving her to storm out in a huff. Why was it that these 'American's' could be so prudish and think a single woman needed to be taken care of.&nbsp; She was just 24 and still lovely and she loved having her own business and making it in an area that many could not. Even her father was proud, this she knew from the comments he made in the letters he wrote her. It was not a good time for her to return to London, the scandal still simmered and she did not want to stir it and make it explode like it almost had 30 months ago.<br><br>That was water under the bridge and as she locked up her shop she double checked to be sure she had both her pistols.<br>The air was dry and warm as it swirled through the streets, dust and bits of this and that tumbling along. Something pricked the hair on the back of her neck...again. She had felt before as if something was not right was out there. She had tried to use logic to dismiss it but since she had meant Teddy she had come to realize that evil really did exist and was out there. Her feet hurried along the back paths darting her from shadow to alley to back streets. All the while she felt as if something out there was aware...maybe not watching her but aware she was out. It sent a shiver up her back.<br><br>The lack of deputies made the feeling of something out there stronger. Normally with Coleman there would be law out and about keeping an eye on things. Many people were out this time of evening. Going home, going to dinner, going someplace and Coleman tried to make sure things moved smoothly. Now though there was not single lawman, deputy, minor helper to be seen and that bothered her even more. Making her feet hurry.<br><br>She rounded a corner and crossed the street and tried the door on Bob's Fix-it Shop. The door opened with a jingling of a bell, she walked in and looked around...No one seemed to be in as her eyes took in all the various pieces and parts that adorned the small barely lit shop. Shelves that were full of this and that and tagged with a ribbon that had a number, as well as partly shadowed parts and peices of who knew what. Tables were piled and close together as she made her way through them, her skirt swishing and then snagging on something. She turned to work her skirt free then started as she felt strong powerful arms encircle her waist and a pair of lips kiss her neck. <br><br>She turned in the arms and lifted up on her toes to kiss the much bigger man her lips pressed against his as he held her very close.<br><br>"sorry I am a bit late, and I did not have time to get us dinner though I did bring bread , butter and honey"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>09-04-2013, 00:04:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1171.photobucket.com/albums/r554/onilobo1/Marcus_zps2f02e61d.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Marcus "Ghost" Walker <br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late morning <br><strong>Location:</strong> Fu Leng's Laundry &amp; Tailoring<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Dirty and in dire need of a wash <br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Jia Li<br><hr> <br><br>Marcus traveled the last few days from his lands in the west, to Gammora. The huntsmen was in dire need of a few supplies, mostly items in bulk like beans, sugar, coffee and flour. With his horse and mule stabled on one of the other plateaus, only he and his hound dog, Argos crossed the bridge into the city proper. The dog barked at Marcus, whining to be unburdened by the load strapped to his back. Marcus was carrying his own heavy load, but leaned down and took the sack of laundry from the dog's back. "Yes, yes, git." He told the dog, who barked happily and went to find the only other person in the world the dog loved, the scion of the Wheatley family. <br><br>Without fail, anytime they came into town, the dog would go and find the red head. If she was at the casino, most likely, he would sit on the porch in the shade and wait for her there while his master busied himself in town. Marcus was not afraid of anything happening to his dog, if he could take down a bear and a rampaging moose, he could handle himself in town. The frontiersmen had a few stops to make but moved towards Fu&nbsp; Leng's, the local laundry. It would help him lighten his load and get his clothing cleaned. He was in need of a few things, a good bath, shave, drink and a meal but those could all wait. With a fresh pouch of tobacco, the man entered the shop and knocked on the counter, looking for the old man or whichever assistant was on duty while he began rolling himself a smoke. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pumpkin Seeds</strong> on <strong>10-04-2013, 00:12:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://questionablefuture.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/lucy-liu.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Jia Li<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Fu Leng's Dry Cleaning<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Marcus<br><hr><br>Jia Li was not a fan of working at the actual dry cleaning store.&nbsp; To her there was far too much outside for her to see and witness that the actual store was boring by comparison.&nbsp; All ordered collected though meant that her remaining time would be spent amidst the heated machines and dirty linen.&nbsp; Already a beads of sweat had worked their way down her brown and onto her angular features.&nbsp; Black stands of hair were matted to her forehead and face as she helped the women of the shop press, stretch and heat the clothing.&nbsp; Only when the doorbell rang did she find reprieve.&nbsp; The small figure came dashing out of the back before any other could answer the call of a customer.&nbsp; Hands quickly tugged her hair back into a sharp tail so that her features and smile were easily seen by the costumer.<br><br>“Hello.&nbsp; Welcome.&nbsp; Come to..”&nbsp; Jia Li stopped as she saw the man and his rugged appearance.&nbsp; She was often scolded for being dirty but this man would probably get the stick by comparison.&nbsp; “Come to clean?”<br><br>Distinctly Chinese, the woman stared up at him with an uneasy smile on her lips.&nbsp; Almond eyes that seemed as black as a depthless pool quivered beneath the light of the sun streaming through windows.&nbsp; Simple white cotton was worn over her petite frame, the loose nature hiding from him any curves she might possess.&nbsp; Only the delicate curve of her neck and the feminine features of her face up close showed her to be a girl at all.&nbsp; That along with the stream of midnight hair that fell down her backside in a wash of uncurled strands.&nbsp; A few freckles dotted her nose and cheeks, a feature that made her seem even more youthful and vibrant.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>13-04-2013, 22:52:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/f/f4/Theodorehowell.png)</div> <br><br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Theodore "Teddy" Howell<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong>&nbsp; May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong>&nbsp; Evening <br><strong>Location:</strong> Gomorra Volunteer Fire Brigade/Bob's Fix-It Shop<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Lady Anne Boyle, closed<br><br><hr>Teddy leaned down to peck her, pulling her up just enough that she had to balance on tiptoes just to meet the taller man's kiss, and then his hands slid down the side of her corset, smoothing it and glancing down at the basket in her hand.&nbsp; He smiled that she'd brought him lunch, giving a small chuckle at the mention of ''all she brought.'<br><br>“Sounds like a feast,” he promised her, stealing one more kiss as if to promise he didn't mind her being a bit late.&nbsp; He chuckled and poked through the basket, setting it up on the only clean space, the counter where he let his customers pay for his services.&nbsp; His hands were newly cleaned, but his forearms were still covered with small bits of grease and swadust – there was no doubt Teddy worked hard for a living, even when he wasn't putting out fires.&nbsp; <br><br>The axe he always seemed to have on hand leaned against the counter, and he offered her a slow smile.&nbsp; “How'd you sleep?”&nbsp; He raised an eyebrow.&nbsp; Her visits had long ago become about more than just soothing her nightmares – and usually he could tell in a moment when she'd had a particularly fierce one.&nbsp; For the moment she seemed as if her nerves were a little jangled, but more or less put together.&nbsp; “How was tea?”<br><br>He slipped out a knife from the counter, pulling out the bread and starting to slice the remainder of the loaf.&nbsp; He offered her a butter knife to lather honey and butter over the slices, easily falling into a rhythm with a lover he'd spent a scandalous amount of time with.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Aiden</strong> on <strong>14-04-2013, 06:29:13</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://i1171.photobucket.com/albums/r554/onilobo1/Marcus_zps2f02e61d.png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Marcus "Ghost" Walker <br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late morning <br><strong>Location:</strong> Fu Leng's Laundry &amp; Tailoring<br><strong>Attire:</strong> Dirty and in dire need of a wash <br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Jia Li<br><hr> <br><br>Marcus guided the rolled cigarette to his lips, lighting it with a match as he nodded to the young woman when she appeared. His clothing was bundle up tight, heaving it onto the counter he pushed it towards her as he took a drag. "Yes, How long?" He asked, keeping it short and simple. Marcus did not tend to spend many days in time, one or two nights at the most during peak season, off season it was a little different. <br><br>A couple of dollars were placed on the counter, half of the amount, the other half would be paid once he picked everything up. As he waited for the young woman to process the order he looked outside and back to her. "What's the commotion in town?" He asked, feeling something was off but had not been in town long enough to pick up on all the recent gossip. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mister Grimm</strong> on <strong>24-04-2013, 03:21:03</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d9/Alexandervalentinepushe.png)</div><br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Alexander Valentine<br><strong>Faction:</strong> None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr> <br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Alex grimaced to himself as he exited the New Pony Express and lifted a slightly charcoal stained hand up to shield his eyes against the sun. Nearly half the day gone already and all he managed to accomplish was to pen up some letters and pay for them to be sent back east. It was rare for him to ever get a speedy reply back, but the man was sure he'd earn the full wrath of his siblings if he ever missed his monthly letters. Then again, at&nbsp; the ages of four and seven, only the elder of his two younger sisters - Annetta - knew her letters and how to write. Her penmanship still had room for improvement, but Alex feared his parents, mostly his mother, would have their claws in her soon in an attempt to <em>groom</em> them for her <em>future</em>. She was 'cursed', as his mother would say, because when they found out that she favored her <em>wrong</em> hand, his mother would take any steps possible to 'correct' her. Alex saw to it that their mother didn't mettle too much while he was still around, but with the lettered he received from them lately, the slanted letters and smudges Annetta used to use were gradually replaced by awkwardly penned words of someone trying to adjust to a different way of writing. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Sighing to himself as he stepped to the edge of the steps, Alex glanced down at his hands and rubbed his left index finger against his left thumb. Both were stained with charcoal (along with the rest of his fingers on each hand, but noticeably less so on his right hand) and he made a note to scrub them extra when he got the time to do so, but he wouldn't bother until later in the day. He'd be writing or sketching some more later when he worked in the shop, so there was little point in doing it now. However, Alex was slightly thankful for the dark suit he wore today for that reason alone, but he still cursed himself for his selection on account of the heat. It was nothing like it was out East during midday when the sun was at its peak, but it was a lesson he was too stubborn to learn even after all his time out West.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Unfortunately for Alex, thinking about the heat made him a little thirsty for water, which in turn made him want to hit a saloon. Then at the saloon, Alex would want for more than water and it was far too early in the far to be needing a drink or anything more. Well, for him at least.&nbsp; Because while he wasn't the type to drink before the sun even set, the idea was tempting enough until he shook himself free of it. Adjusting the brim of his fedora, Alex pushed off the steps and started to make his way back to his shop near the outskirts of town. He'd grab a drink later. Maybe. For now, he needed a clear head or to lose himself in his work. There were several parchments that needed attending too and daylight was already beginning to burn as he idled about town.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>26-04-2013, 07:27:27</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Alexander, Open<br><hr><br>The stage coach ride to Gomorrah had been... "interesting" for lack of a better term. She'd had to sit across from a man in a stuffy waistcoat who said all of four words the entire time they were on the road, and pretended to ignore her whenever she spoke to him. But she knew he heard her... knew for absolute certain he heard her... because more than once he met her eyes for a split second before looking back down, seemingly flustered by her very presence. <em>He</em> was as boring as the seemingly endless stretches of nothing-interesting-here that seemed to permanently reside outside the stage coach window. <br><br>Full lips pursed, she'd made the last stretch of the ride in anxious silence, because the man who sometimes hung off the top of the coach and poked his head in to the window had told her they'd be arriving soon. The man across from her never seemed to notice him, but that was okay... she imagined her window-peeking time keeper wouldn't like him much anyway. Of course... the time keeper's opinion of what counted as "soon" was entirely different from her own, and by the time they really did arrive, Aislinn had been fidgeting and squirming in her seat for several hours, every movement making the seat squeak and disturbing her fellow passenger. At one point she'd caught him looking up at her in annoyance and had answered his dirty look by sticking her tongue out at him, nose wrinkled slightly. <br><br>When at last the coach had arrived, she was the first one off, scrambling out in to the sunlight before her companion and bouncing on to the dusty ground with both tiny feet, once shiny black shoes now well covered in the same road dust that clung to the bottom of her skirts. Giving the skirts a firm shake, she turned to collect her backpack from one of the stage coach workers before turning in the direction of the town. While her once-companion made arrangements for a horse to finish the trip, she'd set out with firm steps for the bridge leading toward the town. Already she could tell she was going to like it here. A bright blue bird flew directly over head, shooting toward the town like a bolt, its feathers turning purple on the way. <br><br>Oh yes. This place was going to be <em>quite</em> fun.<br><br>It was early afternoon by the time she reached the town itself, and the tiny redhead found herself wandering the streets idly. The blouse she wore was off-white in color and tucked in to her long floor-length green skirt. the skirt itself had been sewn to look as if several layers of fabric had been wrapped around and over each other, white fringes along the edge of each "layer". The skirt had a high waist, and fit snugly around her tapered middle, enhancing the modestly covered young bosom hidden under the high necked blouse. Oddly enough, despite the somewhat high-quality garments and the more proper style of dress, her red hair was kept in an attractive, but simple style... Pulled back tight against her head where it was braided and curled in to a thick bun. More interesting than the hair style, however, was the fedora that sat cock-eyed atop it, it's grey fabric something fitting to have been worn with a suit, rather than a lady's outfit. Still, somehow it seemed right at home. <br><br>As did the spectacles that hung from a piece of rawhide string tied like a necklace around her neck. To be perfectly honest, somehow even the deck of playing cards the young woman was carrying in her glove-less hands looked to be right where they should be, as she shuffled through them, seemingly looking hard through them to find a particular card. So preoccupied by the cards she was searching through, she didn't seem to notice that she was about to go crashing in to a man leaving the Pony Express. <br><br>That is, of course, until she stopped suddenly mere inches from him and without looking up at him, held up a playing card. The seven of hearts greeted him, and after a long moment of standing there holding the card up for him, eyes an impossibly dark shade of blue lifted to take in his face. Almost immediately, however, a serene smile curled her soft pink lips, though no words left her as she waited for him to take the "offered" card. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mister Grimm</strong> on <strong>26-04-2013, 08:51:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d9/Alexandervalentinepushe.png)</div><br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Alexander Valentine<br><strong>Faction:</strong> None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Aislinn, Open<br><hr> <br><br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Had Alexander been a different type of man, perhaps one that was always looking down and not paying attention to his surroundings, he would have collided with the woman - girl? - who had suddenly stopped in front of him before snapping a hand upwards. The inventor, however, was ever astute and aware of what was going on around him, his sharp eyes rarely missing anything unless they were closed, the object was in his blind spot, or if the lighting was bad. So a thin brown eyebrow ached slightly as he assessed the woman around her extended hand, his mind started to quickly ponder why she was holding it out to him. He took a slight step backwards so he could right his posture again and readjusted his hat.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; He eyed the card again. <em>The Seven of Hearts</em>. Did it mean something? Or was she just an odd one that liked to stop abruptly in front of strangers and hand out cards? His curiosity was getting the better of him unfortunately and Alex resisted sighing as he gave her another quick once over. Her eyes had lifted to meet his just then as he was looking down at her, his bue-greys holding hers unabashed even if she had caught him glancing at her. Alex finally blinked after a moment and he shifted his attention back to the item she held. <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp;"Er, thanks...?" Alex said as he took the card from her, a hint of confusion clear in his tone as his words left him. He turned the card this way and that while he examined it, his thumb flicking the corners until he was left frowning. It was just a seemingly play card from what he could tell. "Is this suppose to mean something?" he asked as he lowered his hand to return the card to the redhead. He made no attempt to mirror her smile, as most people might, and just continued to regard her coolly until she spoke. A tin man, almost. Perhaps he spent too much time held up in his shop with his machines. Either that or he just flat out lacked the social graces that seemed to come so easily to most others. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>28-04-2013, 09:07:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Alexander, Open<br><hr>Aislinn watched the man as he took her in, seeming far from bothered by his stare, or the way he almost seemed to study the card. Every time his fingers flicked at the edges of the card, something inside of Aislinn twitched, but she didn't let it show as she watched him toy with the card, as if as curious about the object as he was about her. The confusion in his voice pulled a tiny, bell like giggle from her lips and she only found herself smiling more widely, the smile sparkling in her dark blue eyes. <br><br>The lack of a smile from him didn't seem to bother her a bit, and Aislinn looked just about ready to turn and walk away when he began to try to hand the card back, which seemed to catch her attention. Turning to face him, the slightest hint of a frown showed around the corners of her full lips and for a long moment, she just stared at his hand as he tried to hand it back. Shaking her head, she took the card from him before immediately reaching up to slide it in to the breast pocket of his suit. "You keep it," she finally said, and the thick Irish accent that laced it's way through her words was quite clear. <br><br>"It's... a present." There had been a slight moment of hesitation in her explanation, as if she had been searching for the correct word. With the seven of hearts card slid in to his pocket, she gave it a slight pat, as if to say 'now you stay there and don't go wandering off like a naughty thing' to the object. For a long moment she seemed to stand silently, her eyes slightly distant as she regarded something over and beyond his head, her lower lip caught in her teeth. <br><br>Her hand blindly moved for her backpack, sliding the deck of cards (now one shy of a full deck) in to a pocket on her bag. The brightly colored bird was sitting on top of the New Pony Express, preening it's feathers and snapping it's beak occasionally. She giggled at it's antics, watching as it tilted it's head, turning it all the way over to stare at her with big bright yellow eyes. And then just like that, it was flying off again, and she was turning to watch it for a moment before seeming to remember she wasn't alone. <br><br>Spinning on the ball of one foot, her skirts flounced around her tiny feet and she flashed him another friendly smile. Apparently her becoming unfocused for a long moment was not out of the norm, because she didn't even seem remotely bothered or apologetic. Shoving a hand out at him, held with her palm facing to the side as if inviting him to shake, she smiled widely once more. "I'm Aislinn. Who are you?" Her tone was friendly, and her words delivered with all the blunt curiosity of a child less than half her age, and the fact that the tip of her middle finger was brushing fabric covering his chest was something she seemed completely oblivious to.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mister Grimm</strong> on <strong>28-04-2013, 15:08:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d9/Alexandervalentinepushe.png)</div><br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Alexander Valentine<br><strong>Faction:</strong> None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Aislinn, Open<br><hr> <br><br><br>The frown that curved Alex's lips only seemed to deepen as the smile on the woman in front of him widened. First at the giggle and then again when she returned the card to him, taking it upon herself as she stored it into his breast pocket of her own accord and patted his chest. While he normally didn't like people within his personal bubble, the woman in&nbsp; front of him had already breeched that space when she stopped directly in front of him to hand him the card. For some reason, her actions didn't really bother him that much. Why they didn't, on the other hand, had his mind turning again as her hand stayed there on his chest. <br><br><em>You keep it</em>, she said with a thick accent of which Alex wasn't familiar, but the funny thing was that he probably understood her better than half the people in town. The observation had brought the barest hint of a smile to his lips, yet it probably went unnoticed to those who had never seen him do it. <em>A present</em>, she added. While a playing card wasn't the weirdest thing he had ever received, it ranked up there with the random bits and bops his younger sisters would give him when he lived back East. It could have been worse, Alex supposed, like the dead bird Annetta's cat brought in once and left on his pillows for him to wake up to, but it wasn't. The felines smile was still clear in his mind even today, but perhaps it was the girl in front of him that brought back the flood of memories. Or, given the way she smiled at him, perhaps it was the cat that this girl reminded him of more than anything else. <br><br>The fluttering of movement had brought Alex out of his thoughts and back to the present, his eyes just barely catching the girl spinning on her feet with skirts a flourish to face him again. That was odd. Had she seen something? He cursed himself for openly losing himself in thought again, because he hadn't noticed her removing her hand from his chest, why she had turned and who knows what else. The deck she had been holding was gone as well, but the hand that was rarely inches from his person since he first encountered her had returned to him. This time for a handshake.<br><br><em>"I'm Aislinn. Who are you?"</em><br><br>Alex blinked twice. It wasn't a name he was familiar with, but he played it over in his head to try and remove the nuances of her accent in an attempt of understanding how to pronounce her name. Despite her saying it only moments ago, Alex was sure he'd trip over it if he tried to repeat it. So instead, the man sniffed slightly and adjusted the distance between them so that there was no hint of awkwardness as he returned the gesture and shook her hand slightly. It felt tiny in his hand, but that was only natural given her gender and size and his. Her hand was also smooth compared to his, because Alex's were slightly calloused from working both in his shop with tools and in the mines all the time. <br><br>"Alexander," he supplied the girl finally before remembering his slightly stained fingers, at which he let go of her hand and pulled his back to absently rub them together again. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose slightly in disdain as he considered them briefly, but soon returned his attention to the redhead. <em>Aislinn</em>. "You never answered my question," he said as his frown turned into a bit of a grimace. "I understand that it is a present," <em>an odd one at that</em>, "but does it mean something? Or is it just... a card?" he finished. His curiosity knew no bounds, but the enigma of the card was starting to gnaw at him again when all the other distractions - namely the ones he had of her - had vanished or been answered. Some curiosities still lingered, but those of the card outweighed the rest and left them more pressing than the rest.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>29-04-2013, 10:14:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Alexander, Open<br><strong>Note:</strong> All things in <em>italics</em> are happening in Aislinn's head.<br><hr>Aislinn watched as the dapper man took a step back and lifted his hand to take her own. The shake was somewhat awkward in it's movements and the way he held his shoulders, but she didn't seem at all bothered by such. Smiling to him, she shifted her skirts idly around her legs once more with her free hand. His hand was larger than her own... rough and calloused in a way that most likely wouldn't expect from a man as well dressed as he himself was. Not that she really put two and two together on such a thought, of course... <br><br>No, the tiny redhead seemed to overlook the most minor of details. Or perhaps she simply soaked them in without thinking so much about them in the way that others did. Either way, she wasn't at all put off by the calloused feel of his skin against her much softer, smoother flesh. Nor did she seem at all bothered by the smudge of charcoal left behind by his fingers on her own... the light gray smudges against her much paler skin. It would take him a long moment to provide her his name, but when he did, she almost seemed to bounce in place a bit, smiling once more. <br><br>"Allllllllllllexander!" she got out a moment before another bell-like giggle slid past her soft pink lips. But already he was pulling his hand back, rubbing it and it's partner together as if he was bothered by her touch. The sniff he gave didn't seem to do anything but emphasize his seeming distaste for contact with her, but once more she merely seemed to smile widely, her personality serene and pleasant. When he asked what the card meant, she seemed to give a giggle and a look that said 'you're so silly!'. "It <strong>means</strong> that it was mine... but now I've given it to you, so it's yours now," she answered simply, giving him a textbook definition of what a present is, albeit from a mildly childish view point. <br><br>For a long moment more she simply stood there, smiling and seeming lost in her own thoughts, her face taking on a slightly less engaged and more thoughtful look before speaking again. "But what a present means to you... well... that all depends on you, doesn't it?" this time the words slid from her lips in a slightly more serene, perhaps even adult tone. The pondering comment was followed up by her eyes returning to his own and seeming to study him as seriously as he had studied hers. "And there are lots of meanings to lots of things, don't you think? Like how you might give flowers to someone if you like them, but people also put up flowers when they're mourning... or carry them around in their pockets to keep bad smells away..." she seemed to drift off there, thoughtful once more as her smile turned to a musing frown and a soft exhale left her. "Yes... lots of meanings." <br><br>Snapping back to the present, she fixated those dark blue hues on him once more. "But my meaning might not be the same as your meaning. What does it mean to you?"
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mister Grimm</strong> on <strong>30-04-2013, 02:57:54</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d9/Alexandervalentinepushe.png)</div><br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Alexander Valentine<br><strong>Faction:</strong> None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Aislinn, Open<br><hr> <br><br><br>As Alexander fought against the urge to rub his forehead because of the roundabout conversation he was having with Aislinn, he couldn't help but notice how it was like he was talking to one of his sisters. The younger one, Eleanor, mostly. She had a habit of answering questions with questions as most children do, but at least most people grew out of it. Or so he thought. But while Aislinn wasn't answering questions with questions, she wasn't giving him a straight answer either. Still, Alexander tried to keep his agitation in check because snapping now wouldn't get him the answers he was after. This was one of the reasons he liked machines more than he did people.<br><br>"Right. It was yours, but now its mine," Alex replied, pretending that he was talking to Elanor so that his temper didn't flare. "Thank you," he added for safe measure, because it was easier to keep his anger in check when he thought he was talking to a four year old since most of the time they didn't know better. Some did and acted like they did on purpose to get a rise out of someone - or he did when he was younger at least, now that he thought about it - but there was still no point in getting upset with Aislinn. Yet. However, the textbook definition of a present didn't explain anything regarding the enigma of the card. Alex didn't see it as anything more than a normal playing card that he received from the unusual red headed girl in front of him, whose odd of drawing from a full deck was one in fifty-two. Or fifty-three to fifty-six depending on how many jokers came in the deck. But those were just facts and statistics, the bread and butter that Alexander loved to absorb. <br><br>"How about this," Alex started, but trailed off slightly as he attempted to decide how he wanted to word the question, "Same question. What does the card mean to you? But also, why did you give it to me?" he asked, hoping that those two questions were more straight forward and would earn him a like answer. Sure, he was parroting her question back at her, but the sooner he got the answer he was looking for, the sooner he - of they - could get out of the sunlight and into the shade. He wasn't sure about Aislinn, but the harsh rays of the sun were starting to beat down on him and his choice of attire only made him cook faster and increase the lingering desire for a drink.<br><br>"But first, to answer your question, it is just present I got from you. A playing card with the seven of hearts printed on it. Yet it is also an enigma, because I don't know why, or for what reason, you gave it to me." Her answer, if she gave it to him straight, would hopefully relieve him of the riddle or else he felt he might go mad. If she didn't, on the other hand, he'd save it for another day since Alex feared that the conversation would probably just keep going in a circle if he continued to press for the information. It was a bad habit, sure, but it was one that he had trouble controlling when it got the best of him.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>02-05-2013, 20:55:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Alexander, Open<br><strong>Note:</strong> All things in <em>italics</em> are happening in Aislinn's head.<br><hr>Aislinn seemed distracted almost as quickly as she'd seemed focused upon him. Her attention seemed fickle at best... constantly shifting from him to something around them that he probably wouldn't be able to identify, to her own hands, then him again, then back to staring at something in the distance. <em>The flutter of wings was what caught her attention once more, and the petite redhead's eyes lifted immediately to look up at the large brightly colored bird as it circled above them. It's feathers shifted from blue to purple to black, and back to blue again and Aislinn watched it wide eyed for long moments before it seemed to turn and sail off in a leisurely fashion down the street, not content to wait for her any more.</em><br><br>Blinking slightly, she looked back to Alexander as he asked what the card meant to her and why she gave it to him. For a moment, she just looked at him, as if studying his face for a moment, but then her head spun back in the way it had been looking while he'd been acknowledging that it was indeed a present and thanking her. Shifting impatiently on her tiny booted feet, the younger girl turned to look at him for another moment, musing before she suddenly breathed in and spoke in a somewhat rushed tone. <br><br>"I have to go. Bye bye Alexander," she chirped, and immediately there was another pleasant smile on her lips before she was turning and darting off in the direction she'd been looking in before announcing that she was leaving. Her hands held her skirts up just enough to keep them from tripping her up as she hurried down the dusty street, following the sound of the bird's cries on the still air. <br><br>There was apparently not a moment taken to consider the potential rudeness she'd just shown by turning and darting off as one hand lifted to adjust her fedora on her red hair, and while Alexander had been rather bothered by the heat, she seemed unaware of it. She did feel it of course... it was stifling, but it was also not something worth focusing on, in her mind. There was too much else to do and see around her... the heat seemed a trivial matter, even in the layers of clothing she wore. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Mister Grimm</strong> on <strong>04-05-2013, 02:51:50</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d9/Alexandervalentinepushe.png)</div><br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Alexander Valentine<br><strong>Faction:</strong> None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Early Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Outside of the New Pony Express<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Closed<br><hr> <br><br><br><em>"I have to go. Bye bye Alexander."</em><br><br>"Wait, what?" Alex managed to get out after a moment of confusion, but the girl had already taken off running. A frustrated noise curled up and died in Alex's throat as he watched the redhead flee, his questions to her about the card left unanswered and the desire to know what it meant only grew as it gnawed at him from the inside out. He'd chalk up Aislinn as a rather strange woman in his book and made a point of grilling her further the next time they meet, which would hopefully earn him some answers compared to none at all. Hell, he'd be happy with something more than calling it a <em>present</em>. Right now it was more of a burden that felt like it was burning a hole in his chest. Who knew, it probably was. <br><br>Tsk'ing under his breath, Alex adjusted his hat by tugging the brim of it down then started off in the direction of the nearest saloon. While it was still much too early for him to be stumbling around like the lushes that frequented most of them, his encounter with the strange redheaded woman earned him a drink - at the least - and maybe even something more if he had cash enough to spare. <br><br>However, if the man was going to drink, Alex would only settle for the good stuff. Not some piss water from the cheapest side of Gomorra. He'd also look for a saloon near a decent place to spend the night, preferably one that offered a service where he had a wash basin of cold water brought to his room. Considering the heat and how long he stayed out in it today, a bath was pretty high on Alex's list of priorities. Sure, he already had one this week, but there was no harm in another even if it meant spending a little more money to cool down.<br><br>Pulling the card from the outside breast pocket that Aislinn tucked in into, Alex eyed the card again as he walked. There was a slight temptation to just get rid of it altogether, but he pushed the urge away and tucked it into one of his inner pockets instead. After slapping on his best grimace (which wasn't hard considering what just happened), Alex continued on his way and strode with purpose towards the northern side of Gomorra. His destination: Anywhere that had a fine selection of drinks, good music and food that didn't taste rotten in his mouth. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>06-05-2013, 10:36:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Semi-Open (Notices Aislinn) (Closed in the alley)<br><hr><br>Continuing his stroll down main street, Nicodemus searched for anything of interest, his green eyes hidden away by his tinted glasses.&nbsp; Nearing the main juncture, the heart of the city, he slowed, watching the people interacting in Casino Morongo.&nbsp; He felt no desire to join the growing crowd in the building but simply took it in as he continued meandering.&nbsp; <br><br>Always on the look out for new faces in the growing city, he was often out and about just like tonight.&nbsp; He rolled his shoulders, his eyes searching both sides of the road.&nbsp; It was then that he spotted another new face in town.&nbsp; Studying the slip of a woman from a distance, he focused all of his unnerving attention on her for a moment, careful not to catch her eye as yet.<br><br>Slipping between buildings, he inspected the area, ensuring privacy once again.&nbsp; He had become quite adept at being unseen while he did his work.&nbsp; Hidden in the darkened alley, he once again pulled a card from his inside pocket, a smirk on his face.&nbsp; Dropping the card, he watched it flutter to the ground calmly, only a hint of his true excitement on his face.&nbsp; More than almost anything, he loved calling on his craft and didn't get the chance as often as he'd like.<br><br>The alley darkened and shadows moved as he pictured the young, red haired woman.&nbsp; “Your bidding?”&nbsp; A sibilant voice asked him.&nbsp; Words he loved to hear.&nbsp; With a wicked smile, he gestured toward the street.&nbsp; “Find her.&nbsp; Watch her.&nbsp; Do her no harm.”&nbsp; His deep voice took on a perversely evil edge.&nbsp; “Report back to me.&nbsp; I wish to know everywhere she goes and everyone she speaks to.&nbsp; And her name.”<br><br>Disappearing from sight, the shadows stopped dancing and the creature took his leave of Nicodemus.&nbsp; Allowing himself one more wicked smile, he straightened his suit jacket, schooled his features back to neutrality and stepped back onto main street, turning to follow the woman even as his creature did.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Pumpkin Seeds</strong> on <strong>07-05-2013, 18:51:43</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://questionablefuture.files.wordpress.com/2011/06/lucy-liu.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong>&nbsp; Jia Li<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Unknown<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong>&nbsp; Fu Leng's Dry Cleaning<br><strong>Tagged:</strong>&nbsp; Marcus<br><hr><br>Jia Li stared up at the rugged man in consideration at the question.&nbsp; Then abruptly she turned and shouted toward the back of the store.&nbsp; Her words were a quick stream of Mandarin that was responded to in short order with the same language.&nbsp; The young woman gave another quick reply that did not sound so pleasant before returning to look at the man.&nbsp; Money was placed before her but she did not seem to regard the item as anything significant.&nbsp; Only as a second thought did she reach out to inspect the money and put that away.&nbsp; A ticket was filled out with her other hand while she continued her chatter with the mystery voice behind her.<br><br>“You ready tonight.&nbsp; I bring, you take.&nbsp; Have everything then yes?”<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>08-05-2013, 02:55:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Nicodemus<br><strong>Note:</strong> All things in <em>italics</em> are happening in Aislinn's head.<br><hr><em>The rustling of wings were Aislinn's alarm that she should leave Nick's Never Closes after spending a portion of the afternoon there. The bird had lead her on a bit of a wander around the town's streets before it finally perched on the building's roof until she wandered inside. Some time later, when evening had fallen, the bird's wings rustled outside her window</em> and she left her room, ignoring practically everything around her as she stepped out on to the dusty street. For a long moment she merely stood and looked around, her hand dipping in to her pocket and pulling out the deck of cards she'd been carrying around all day. <br><br>Letting out a soft humming noise under her breath, she looked up and down the street, her tiny hands shuffling the cards again and again, mixing, shifting, aligning, and realigning the rectangles in her ungloved hands. <em>The cry of a bird over head broke through the sound of her humming and the din coming from the various establishments around her. Eyes glancing up, she watched the great feathered creature swoop and circle before it took off down the street, leaving her to follow in it's wake.</em><br><br>Nearly twenty minutes later, Aislinn was still wandering, and had been for some time... stopping occasionally to speak to someone, the conversation usually disjointed and hard to follow, though the fact of her name and the thick bearing of her accent would be obvious to even the most drunken of sorts. Many looked at her oddly, the riddles and counter-questions and seemingly aimless conversation lines all spoken as if they were of dire importance and occasionally broken by a light hearted giggle or an impish grin on porcelain features. <br><br>But no one held her attention for long, and she was usually back to wandering, her hands still shuffling the cards as she followed the bird's course from one street to the other until she found herself wandering down main street in relative silence. She could feel something... something prickling and tugging at the back of her mind, as if she were being watched, but not once did she so much as turn to look behind her or search the windows and doorways around her... as if the idea of being watched didn't bother her at all. Or perhaps she was accustomed to feeling that way. Further... to the outside world it would look like she was clueless to the sensation. <br><br><em>She was still walking when suddenly with a great cry and a sudden swoop, the bird overhead pivoted in the air and darted back the way they'd come, down main street. Blinking, Aislinn turned and watched the creature's movements, watching as it flew and then suddenly dove harshly, swooping and landing directly atop the head of a tall red haired man in a fine suit.</em> Aislinn had stopped walking, and her eyes wandered from her feathered companion to the man it sat upon. Tall, red haired, with green eyes that seemed to tug at something at the back of her mind, heavily shrouded in shadow and the dust of times forgotten. She was moving toward him before she realized what was happening, tiny booted feet carrying her down the dusty street and directly toward the man, who she was somehow absolutely certain must have been following her. <br><br>The bird had never done that before... never landed on anyone, and the idea that it did was an exciting and curious prospect to the petite Irish woman. The closer to him she got, the more the speed of her steps increased, going from slow and thoughtful, to quick and determined, and without a word, Aislinn reached him and threw her arms around him, her slender limbs wrapping around him and pinning his own to his body as she hugged him tightly, her pale cheek pressed in to his impeccably kept suit jacket. Still squeezing him as if he were someone she had some deep-rooted connection to and hadn't seen in years, she spoke just loudly enough to be heard. <br><br>"I'm Aislinn." 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>xPeachyPuff</strong> on <strong>10-05-2013, 01:22:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://mylusciouslife.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/02/Kate-Upton-in-lingerie-by-Matt-Jones.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Annabel Montgomery.<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876.<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning.<br><strong>Location:</strong> At the Wishing Well.<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open // Virginia Whateley.<br><hr> <br><br>Annabel was completely alone; or so she thought. Even the people wandering past who paid her little mind were consumed by her darkness that clouded her mind when it came to her music. Not only did she prefer it that way, but it was more practical. There was no way she could get distracted by her surroundings when working on her refrain. That was what she thought, anyway; she didn't expect what happened next in the slightest.<br><br>When those familiar arms extended suddenly around her small frame, Annabel couldn't help but jump out of her skin, an oddly feminine, startled yelp leaving her lips at the abrupt embrace. Her hands released the guitar on her lap at the shock but she quickly regained her grip and pulled it to her in a protective manor. Her head turned sharply to stare at the unforeseen intruder and just as she was about to jolt from the hug, her deep eyes found a familiar face. The obvious irritation drained from her face and she let out a heavy, heavy sigh, falling slightly limp in the younger girl’s arms, allowing herself to be rocked back and forth as she tried to calm her rattled heart. <strong>"Good Lord, Ginny."</strong> Annabel sighed yet again, something she often felt herself doing in the presence of her only friend. <strong>"Yur nerly scared me t'death."</strong> One of her hands moved up to fondly hold the girls arm that was currently wrapped around her neck, equally as fondly. Annabel laid the guitar aside, resting it carefully on the bench beside her, on top of her notepad and pencil. <br><br>As she felt Ginny nuzzling into her pony tail, she felt a faint smile pull at her lips and she squirmed out of it, letting out a rare laugh. <strong>"Thar's only so much a girl can wear, y'know. I dun do it on purpose."</strong> Her smile remained on her pretty features as she turned her head once more, her one arm snaking behind Virginia's back, pulling her a little closer. It was strange, all the physical contact, but she almost forced herself to get used to it. Annabel had to admit that it was nice having a friend every once in a while, though she didn't plan on getting as close to anyone else in town any time soon, if at all. <br><br>Annabel found herself a little dumbfounded as Virginia mentioned shopping, but an eyebrow quickly raised suspiciously as her usual expression consumed her features once more. <strong>"Whut yu' tryin'a say? I need betta clothes o'sunthin?"</strong> Her dubious expression remained for a moment before she lightened up. <strong>"In any case, Ginny, I ain't got much munny t'spend on overpriced clothes an' I ain't havin' yu spend yur munny on me."</strong> Annabel had to frown as Virginia’s personality flashed through her mind; there was no way she was getting out of it, but she could try and refuse at least once before getting dragged along. Shopping was never really her thing, but maybe that was because she'd never been shopping properly before.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>10-05-2013, 02:04:42</strong>
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			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Pounced on by Aislinn/ Open<br><hr><br>Nicodemus' green eyes widened slightly behind his tinted glasses as the woman he had been following suddenly turned around and made a beeline right for him.&nbsp; There was something both amusing and endearing in watching her move.&nbsp; He didn't bother to move or shy away from the confrontation that he was sure was about to take place and, instead, just focused his intense eyes on her, standing motionless on the dirt coated street.&nbsp; Already planning his next move and what he would say to her, he was prepared for the outrage she would inevitably level at him<br><br>As the woman threw her thin arms around his waist, Nicodemus froze, not even breathing for a moment.&nbsp; His eyebrows rose over his glasses, shocked that this red haired beauty decided hugging him was the proper response to being followed.&nbsp; It was the very opposite of what he had expected and nothing could have prepared him to have her body pressed up against his.&nbsp; She was a slip of a woman but clearly a beautiful one.&nbsp; But, Gomorra had several beautiful women and he had ignored them just fine.&nbsp; He tilted his head, glancing down at her and inwardly smiled to himself.&nbsp; There was certainly potential in a woman that hugged men that followed them.&nbsp; Lost in his own wicked thoughts, he almost missed her words.&nbsp; <br><br><em>Aislinn.</em>&nbsp; Quickly, he committed the name to memory though even if he hadn't, he was sure he wouldn't forget this encounter anytime soon.&nbsp; <br><br>Shifting his pinned arms slightly, he pulled them away from his body carefully and took a step back once he made enough room, freeing himself from her small arms.&nbsp; “I'm Nicodemus.”&nbsp; His voice was deep, low and far too intimate for the main street of Gomorra.&nbsp; But, something about this woman intrigued him.&nbsp; Lifting his hand, he gently touched the bottom of her chin and applied gentle pressure, trying to get her to look up at him.&nbsp; Eyes spoke louder than words and he wanted to know what hers had to say. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>13-05-2013, 00:44:12</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Nicodemus / Open<br><strong>Note:</strong> All things in <em>italics</em> are happening in Aislinn's head.<br><hr>The man didn't move out of the way as Aislinn turned and walked straight toward him, though she wasn't at all surprised by that. Even if she had been lucid enough to notice how odd that might be to some, it probably also would have occurred to her that she didn't give much warning that she was going to hug him. For a long moment he seemed to stand there, completely still while she clung to him and introduced herself. The long moments passed with baited breath from him, and a tiny smile from her. <br><br>It gave her the moment to hold on to him and to take in things about him others likely never took the time to notice... His smell, the warmth of his skin beneath his clothing, the way his heart beat steadily inside his chest, her ear pressed to the hard planes of his fit form. Only when he disengaged himself from her embrace did he answer her introduction, giving her his name. That small smile that had teased itself at the corners of her mouth slowly spread, becoming wider and more vibrant as he stepped back. <br><br>His fingers found the delicate form of her small chin, and with gentle pressure he was lifting her head. She turned and looked up at him at the silent command, her deep blue eyes catching the sunlight and seeming to reflect such a deep shade they seemed nearly purple. Unlike most others he likely met, she met his eyes without a single ounce of fear or shyness, and her smile was as bold as her stare, though both danced with an almost child-like glee. Still, there would be something more in those blue depths... something not quite readable, something deep and knowing. <br><br>For a long moment she merely returned his look as he studied her, and then she finally spoke again. "You were following me." It was a blunt statement, delivered with all the honesty of someone either young... or fearless. "But not just you..." she murmured, turning to glance around her, her eyes searching shop windows, alleyways, dark places someone might hide. A thoughtful look crossed her face, but she didn't seem particularly bothered by the idea that someone she couldn't see was following her. Turning to look up at him. <br><br>All at once the thoughtful look on her face faded, and her fingers reached up, attempting to gently nudge his glasses further down on his nose so she could see his eyes more clearly. "Hmmm... clover." Her fingers strayed from his glasses then, moving to the ends of his hair, as if to touch it but not quite brushing it. "Flame." Something about the coloring of his eyes, his hair... seemed familiar, like it was pulling at something at the back of her mind, but the feeling never went beyond a strong tugging at her memory. <br><br>Frowning, for just a moment she seemed too wrapped up in her own thoughts, her hand slowly returning to her own body, pressing her palm to the flat plane of her stomach for a moment before she spoke suddenly. "Walk with me?" something in her eyes still seemed thoughtful and lost, but her focus was once more on him. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>esclavage</strong> on <strong>14-05-2013, 23:16:53</strong>
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				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3d/Ginny_03a.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Virginia 'Ginny' Mary Lou Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Whateley Family<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Late Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> At the Wishing Well<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open, Annabel Montgomery<br><hr><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Ginny's brow creased a bit at Annabel's commentary about how there was only so much a girl could wear.&nbsp; <em><strong>"Annie!"</strong></em>&nbsp; The young Whateley sounded like she was in pain.&nbsp; <strong>"How kin yuh say sumethin' like that?" </strong> That pained tone became more playful, almost as if she understood full well the irony of what she was saying.&nbsp; <strong>"Uh gurl kin always use uh new blouse, uh fancy dress, or sum nice jewelry.&nbsp; How else are we supposed tah attract attention?&nbsp; Or wot else are men supposed tah git us fer gifts?"</strong>&nbsp; An arched eyebrow emphasized the dire situation that all womenfolk found themselves in--the danger of being unable to categorize themselves in a hierarchical fashion that made up the crust of what people considered to be the different layers of the social class.&nbsp; Those that had and those that did not.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Her hands were on the other blonde's shoulders as they looked at each other, eye to eye, even as Annabel could tell that Ginny was already measuring her for an array of brand new clothes.&nbsp; It would be be fun, dressing up Annie so she could come attend some of the balls and socials that Granny held.&nbsp; In the young Whateley's mind, Annabel would already be a smashing success; after all, they practically looked like sisters and Ginny had no shortage of ardent suitors after her hand in marriage.&nbsp; At least this way, Ginny might be able to redirect some of the unwanted attention from herself to Annabel. It would also help the other girl get used to being around strangers so her idea really was two birds with one stone.&nbsp; Along with the added benefit of having a friend to gossip with while evading the stuffier shirts that wanted a dance when she wasn't in the mood.&nbsp; A smile came to her lips; what would Annie do without a friend like Ginny?<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Those green eyes sparkled at the prospect of dressing her friend as she tugged a bit on the other blonde to try and get her to her feet.&nbsp; And gave a small frown when Annabel didn't comply.&nbsp; Apparently, the other blonde had sensed something, much like a wild animal would sense danger.&nbsp; While Annie had come along way in the weeks that Ginny had met her and become friends, the other girl still could be damned stubborn at times when it wasn't necessary.&nbsp; This was a perfect case in point.&nbsp; "<strong>We kin go'nd drop off yur stuff and then we're shoppin'."</strong>&nbsp; It was not so much a question as it was a command, a demand to be obeyed.&nbsp; Another insistent tug was given like Ginny expected Annabel to capitulate and comply with her.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;And a small frown that was more like a half-pout was given by Annabel's counter-arguments.&nbsp; Apparently, the blonde songstress understood Ginny much better than the young Whateley would have given her credit for.&nbsp; In the same breath, she had laid a dual-pronged attack.&nbsp; One, Ginny now couldn't insist that Annabel need new clothes lest she offend her friend by calling her things '<em>old</em>'.&nbsp; Second, she pointed out her lack of finances and cut off the obvious choice of Ginny supplying all of their shopping needs.&nbsp; It was obvious to the young Whateley from the stubborn set to Annabel's chin that she would not accept the blonde gambler's coin.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Apparently, a different tact was required.&nbsp; Subtlety was called for.&nbsp; <strong>"Oh, all right..."</strong>&nbsp; Ginny gave a big, theatrical sigh and stopped tugging on Annabel and chose to sit down for a moment besides her.&nbsp; <strong>"Well, ah can't make yuh do wot yah dun wanna go shoppin' with muh."</strong>&nbsp; The first step was guilt.&nbsp; Ginny let her lower lip tremble a bit, seemingly crestfallen that her friend would refuse her.&nbsp; Then, her expression brightened a little before she could really make Annabel feel too bad.&nbsp; If she was too transparent, her strategy would be too obvious.&nbsp; <strong>"It's okay.&nbsp; We kin always do sumethin' else together."</strong>&nbsp; A warm smile followed as Ginny made sure to hide her disappointment and let Annabel relax a little.&nbsp; After all, she wanted the blonde songstress thinking that she had won this little encounter.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Meanwhile, Ginny was already scheming.&nbsp; She knew Annabel's work schedule at New Moon Saloon like the back of her hand; after all, the blonde gambler stopped in almost every single night to listen to Annabel play her guitar and sing.&nbsp; Ginny also had managed to make good friends with the middle-aged woman, Ms. Betsy, that helped run the place.&nbsp; All it would take was a little bit of good, old-fashioned Whateley charm to get the older woman loan her a key to the place Annabel was staying.&nbsp; Once she had explained that it was really in Annabel's best interests, she was certain Ms. Betsy would be willing to help.&nbsp; After all, she had seen how the middle-aged woman had tried to encourage Annabel to be a little more friendly and talk to others previously the other times.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;Then, Ginny was going to raid the small room and strip it completely threadbare this afternoon before her friend got back for her evening shift.&nbsp; There wouldn't be a stitch of clothing left when she was through.&nbsp; All the sundry items would all go back to Ginny's house to be returned at a later date.&nbsp; And then, it would be easy to convince Annie to go shopping early tomorrow morning.&nbsp; Annie would have to, unless she planned on being stark naked or washing and wearing her current clothes again tomorrow.<br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;With a broad smile in place, Ginny stood up and dusted off her finely crafted pants.&nbsp; <strong>"Well, ah've got tah go!&nbsp; See yah tonight, Annie!"</strong>&nbsp; She seemed incredibly cheerful like she had gotten over her earlier disappointment of Annabel's refusal.&nbsp; Though anyone would knew Virginia Mary Lou Whateley knew that whenever she smiled like that, she was up to no good.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <em><span class="bbc_u">Never.</span></em>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>03-06-2013, 03:56:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Pounced on by Aislinn/ Open<br><hr><br>Nicodemus gazed into Aislinns deep, dark eyes as she looked up at him.&nbsp; He was quite pleased that she offered no resistance to his unspoken command and that she said nothing as he met her eyes.&nbsp; The rich color was appealing to him but, more than that, their depths and the undefinable <em>something</em> he saw within her sent a surge of desire through him.&nbsp; For a brief moment, Nicodemus was so entranced by the eyes of this strange woman that he didn't even notice the stares from the people walking past them on the street.&nbsp; Nor did he care.&nbsp; <br><br>“I was.”&nbsp; He agreed readily, his voice deep but quiet.&nbsp; There was no reason to deny it and, while he was a skilled liar, he didn't feel the need to do so.&nbsp; He didn't answer the second comment though he was inwardly pleased that she sensed the creature he unleashed.&nbsp; While he still wasn't willing to admit that there he had sent something to follow her, he didn't make any denials either.&nbsp; He waited silently and completely still as her incredible eyes glanced around for the unseen stalker.&nbsp; <br><br>Nicodemus stiffened ever so slightly as her hand moved up to lower his glasses but, against his better judgment, he made no move to stop the slip of a woman from pulling his tinted glasses lower.&nbsp; His piercing green eyes stared into hers for a moment, his eyes unblinking as though he didn't wish to miss a moment of what he saw.&nbsp; As her hand moved away, he finally moved, his arm reaching up to push his tinted glasses back into place.&nbsp; Once they were set, his body fell into it's usual stillness as he heard her words.&nbsp; Inwardly, he enjoyed this womans attentions.&nbsp; Which was strange in and of itself.&nbsp; But, he pushed his thoughts aside for now to watch her hand move toward his long red hair.&nbsp; If Nicodemus allowed himself to smile in public, he would have done so at her comments.&nbsp; Instead, he merely watched her intently, his mind drifting to the less appropriate things he wished to do with her.&nbsp; But, for the moment, he ruthlessly pushed those thoughts down.&nbsp; <br><br>His eyes followed her hand, watching it land lightly on her flat stomach.&nbsp; His eyes moved upward as she spoke, looking at her eyes once again.&nbsp; His shoulders lifted lightly at her question.&nbsp; “I would be glad to.”&nbsp; He answered, offering his arm like a gentleman.&nbsp; She seemed quite comfortable touching him and he wanted to see just how comfortable with him she was.&nbsp; He wished to be touching her in some small way right now.&nbsp; Oh, he wanted to do much more than offer her an arm but, at the moment, it would be impossible.&nbsp; Instead, he forced himself to take pleasure in the smaller, gentle touches Aislinn offered.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>15-06-2013, 04:59:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Nicodemus / Open<br><strong>Note:</strong> All things in <em>italics</em> are happening in Aislinn's head.<br><hr>Apparently completely oblivious to those around them and definitely oblivious to the less-than-appropriate thoughts going through his head, Aislinn let another smile curl her lips as he offered his arm, ever the gentleman. Without hesitation, her small hand lifted and wrapped around the inside of his elbow, her dainty fingers splaying along the curve there and sliding up along his bicep, effectively wrapping her lower arm and wrist around his arm. <br><br>It was a loose, but nonetheless warm sort of embrace... one that locked them together just enough to make it feel as if she were giving him a small, loose hug. As soon as they were walking again, she looked up and around them, though her eyes never lingered on a given person. She still felt followed, but it was more a nagging feeling at the back of her cluttered mind... the focus of her attention was on the man beside her, and as they kept a sedated pace, she finally spoke. <br><br>"Why follow me?" she asked, her tone not at all unpleasant, but instead more curious than anything. <br><br>Eyes lifting, she watched <em>the bird making lazy circles above their head, blue-purple feathers fluttering in the evening air</em> with the stars shining above it like hand fulls of diamonds thrown over a black blanket. They winked their secrets down at the world below, and Aislinn wondered if they could speak and if perhaps she was just too far away to hear them.<br><br>“Do you think those are diamonds? Or maybe they’re holes in a big black blanket… left over from angels keeping bad things out of heaven…” Something deep inside of her said that felt wrong, but she had no idea why or what the answer could be. Would it be more interesting than the answer she’d just given him? 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>24-06-2013, 03:36:35</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/d/d1/Nicodemus..png)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Nicodemus Whateley<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Grandma's Favorite (Whateley Faction)<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Aislinn/ Open<br><hr>Nicodemus watched her small hand and arm wrap itself around his.&nbsp; The willingness to touch him so publicly intrigued him.&nbsp; Clenching his jaw lightly, he kept the wicked smile that wished to appear off his face.&nbsp; His dark thoughts clouding his mind for a moment as they began to walk together quietly.&nbsp; He was glad for the moment of silence between them as he wasn't certain what he could safely say as yet.<br><br>He watched her as she watched the people.&nbsp; Knowing the concerned looks that they were getting, he didn't bother to acknowledge them but was curious how the young woman on his arm was taking the attention.&nbsp; Again, he had to work to keep the smile off his face as she barely seemed to notice the looks.<br><br>“Curiosity.”&nbsp; He answered her question.&nbsp; “You're new in town.”&nbsp; He actually added more detail which wasn't like him.&nbsp; “Where are we heading?”&nbsp; This time it was he who sounded curious.&nbsp; <br><br>His hidden eyes followed her gaze overhead.&nbsp; Staring at the sky for a moment, he then turned his attention back to the woman next to him.&nbsp; He watched her ponder over the night sky for a moment before she spoke.<br><br>Thinking about her words, he continued to meander down the road, his gaze shifting from the people to the sky.&nbsp; “I do not believe they are diamonds.”&nbsp; He began, breaking the silence that her question had left in it's wake.&nbsp; There was something about her theory that he rather enjoyed.&nbsp; Angels hiding under a big black blanket to hide from evil.&nbsp; Inwardly amused, he nodded his head once.&nbsp; “I like that theory.&nbsp; Perhaps their protections burn brightly for a long time to come.”&nbsp; He didn't really believe it but it was better than his thoughts on the matter.&nbsp; If the angels were actually worried about evil, they would need to bring their battle here.&nbsp; But perhaps he should be grateful that, should they be focused on anything, it was the heavenly realm. <br><br>“How are you enjoying the city thus far?”&nbsp; He asked her quietly.&nbsp; He wanted to know much more about her but it wouldn't do to rush.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Bloodied Porcelain</strong> on <strong>24-07-2013, 01:49:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab235/bloodiedporcelain/elcharacterpics/Doomtown/redhead76_zpsd8d9eec9.jpg)</div> <br><hr><strong>Name:</strong> Aislinn Eilir<br><strong>Faction:</strong>None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 3rd, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Evening<br><strong>Location:</strong> Main Street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Nicodemus / Open<br><strong>Note:</strong> All things in <em>italics</em> are happening in Aislinn's head.<br><hr><br>Still seeming completely unaware of the stares on her, Aislinn enjoyed their quiet walk. He didn't talk much, except to answer her questions, to tell her he liked her theory about holes in the blanket of heaven from angels fighting off the hordes of hell. Her hand tightened just a bit on his arm as they walked, a gentle flexing of delicate fingers as they wandered along. He'd asked where they were going, but she didn't answer... didn't seem to notice that he'd asked her at all, but instead was caught up in her own thoughts. <br><br>"You could have just said hello," she commented airily, obviously not really focused on the fact that he'd followed her anymore. Idly, she let her head come to rest against his bicep, temple pressed to his arm as her fingers toyed with the fabric covering the inside of his elbow. <br><br>"I like it here," she finally announced, Irish accent quite thick with every syllable that slid from her lips. "I think I might stay for a little while. At least until my friend decides it's time to leave..." her words trailed off as her eyes flicked upward once more, watching <em>the bird fly from the roof of one building to the next, crossing the street they wandered down again and again in a criss-crossing pattern, guiding their languid path though not seeming to set them a specific course, either.</em> <br><br>"What's that way?" she asked, turning and pointing toward the west. Her eyes peered down the street as if she believed she could see the other mesa from where they stood and what was on it. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>13-04-2014, 22:25:19</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/e/e6/Reloadedbanner.png)</div><br>All posts after this juncture are part of Doomtown Reloaded.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Sindra</strong> on <strong>15-04-2014, 08:10:06</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/a/a1/Walker.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Walker (Walks-in-Footsteps)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> Sioux Union<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 11th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> Wandering toward Der Wafflehaus<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr> <br><br>Walker took a deep breath as his brown eyes glanced around the shops on the main street of Gomorra.&nbsp; Even though he had spent time in Gomorra, it still amazed him how much the white man desired to live outside of nature.&nbsp; They cut down trees that had taken many years to grow to make buildings, they killed anything that moved on four legs and only used small parts of the animals that gave their lives for them.&nbsp; It was incredibly wasteful and there was little he could do to stop it.&nbsp; Even so, Walker knew he wasn't completely immune to the comforts the white man created.&nbsp; He had very much enjoyed the bed that he had slept in last night and the clothes on his back were soft, clean and very much in the fashions of the white man.<br><br>Peering in another shop window, he smiled at the man shopping within only to get scowled at in return.&nbsp; It didn't bother him and he didn't take it personally.&nbsp; The white man had just as much dislike for his people as many of his did for the white man.&nbsp; Out of respect for the man in the shop, he continued along, following his nose.&nbsp; There was a delicious scent of cooking food in the air and he had been following it for a time now.&nbsp; <br><br>Wandering toward the Der Wafflehaus, he smiled and greeted the others on the street.&nbsp; At least those that didn't move away or offer hostile glares.&nbsp; He paid little heed to those that feared or disliked his presence though it saddened him some.&nbsp; His mission here was one of peace and to bring understanding between his people and those that lived here.&nbsp; It was a much more complicated mission than he had originally thought.&nbsp; His people and those of Gomorra shared little in common and both sides seemed eager to do battle with each other.&nbsp; <br><br>Stopping outside the Der Wafflehaus, he took another deep breath through his nose.&nbsp; His stomach let out a growl as the scent of waffles and meat filled his nose.&nbsp; Stealing a peek through the window, he watched as a waitress brought food to a customer and his brows rose.&nbsp; The beautiful blonde woman delivering the food was stunning and stole his focus from the food completely.&nbsp; Among his people, dark brown and black hair was the standard and this beauty had delightfully pale hair. <br><br>She turned, almost as though she knew she was being watched, and offered him a beaming smile.&nbsp; The gesture surprised him but not nearly as much as her bright blue eyes.&nbsp; The color was vibrant and appealed to him on many levels.&nbsp; Completely forgetting what he was doing, he stood for a moment, gawking at the beautiful waitress.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Untamed Skies</strong> on <strong>06-05-2014, 01:41:46</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div align="center"><table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk59/Untamed_skies/a915645b-eba1-44f8-b115-c8cce413b953_zps2d4c41fe.jpg) (http://s277.photobucket.com/user/Untamed_skies/media/a915645b-eba1-44f8-b115-c8cce413b953_zps2d4c41fe.jpg.html)<br><strong>Name:</strong> Reid Lawson<br><strong>Faction</strong>: None so far<br><strong>Location</strong>: Outside the Polecat Saloon<br><strong>Date</strong>: May 12, 1976<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Closed, one off scene.<br></td><td></td><td>(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk59/Untamed_skies/aa631232-7e83-4aa4-ac5c-1be62d899fde_zps13c26833.png) (http://s277.photobucket.com/user/Untamed_skies/media/aa631232-7e83-4aa4-ac5c-1be62d899fde_zps13c26833.png.html)<br><strong>Name:</strong> Dale Lawson<br><strong>Faction</strong>: None so far<br><strong>Location</strong>: Outside the Polecat Saloon<br><strong>Date</strong>: May 12, 1976<br><strong>Tagging</strong>: Closed, one off scene.<br></td><td></td><td></td></tr></tbody></table></div>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; <br><br><br><br><br><br>A series of shouts filled the night air, as a figure stumbled out of the Polecat saloon.&nbsp; Crawling on his hands and knee's for a moment before turning up in a sitting fashion. His nose broken, his face filled with the bruises caused by the stiff blows given to him. He was whimpering, but growling at the same time as he looked back towards the bar. He'd move to try and stand once more but stumbling back on his backside once again.&nbsp; Soon another figure looking much better and much more composed compared to the one stumbling burst through the door. "<strong>Dale you no good Chisler,</strong>" said the gruff man, moving straight towards Dale. He wasted little time taking hold of of Dale's shirt and pulling him to his feet. "<strong>Yer gonna pay me back for every dollar you tried to swindle me out've tonight</strong>," he said standing the stumbling drunk to his feet.<br><br>Dale's head moved in a circular motion dazed before he'd laugh. "If I had money to pay ya Brent, I wouldn't be needin' to cheat," he said. With a crooked smile on his face, looking as if he thought he was the smartest man in the world. <br><br>In the next instant Brent's fist would connect with Dale's face again sending the drunk to the ground. Sprawled on the ground panting, whimpering once again. Brent would follow it up kicking Dale in his ribs, and stomping on his chest. He'd kneel down and raise his hand to hammer Dale's head into the dirt but just before he could someone grab his hand and pull him off of the drunk.<br><br>"Hey, hey, hey," rang out the voice of Reid Lawson as he pried the man off of his brother. He wouldn't throw him just create separation. "Now what's goin' on here huh," he said placing himself between the man and his brother. Course Reid could probably just as easily take a guess as to what was goin' on, but details were always the important kinda thing you needed to know. Dale pissed a lot of different men off doin' a lot of different things. <br><br>"<strong>This damned drunk is a liar and a cheat,</strong>" replied Brent spitting at Dale in frustration. "<strong>Then we catch him cheatin' and he goes runnin' his mouth</strong>," he said. "<strong>Bastard got what's comin' to him,</strong>" Brent explained what the commotion was and why he was beating on the poor bastard.<br><br>"I ain't the one cheatin' Reid," Dale said&nbsp; glancing up from his spot. "I caught em, they don't like being caught Reid," Dale said. "Damn dirty thieves takin' all our hard earn money," he continued on before laying his head back. <br><br>"<strong>What did you say, you lying sack of shit,</strong>" snarled Brent at the accusations suddenly, he'd move forward to go kick Dale some more but would be pushed back by Reid. Holding out a finger and trying to kept the scuffle from escalating any further then it had. <br><br>"I ain't the liar Reid," said Dale stumbling back up to his feet. "They stole our money, I was jus tryin' to get it back Reid," he said in stumbling to his feet and losing his balance again. <br><br>Reid turned to look at his brother then back to Brent, "I'm sure he's earned whatever beatin' you're lookin' to give him," he said holding his hand out to him to stop him and try to keep his focus on Reid and not his brother. Dale was a much different man around Reid, always trying to hide his deeds and lying through his teeth to try and save whatever image he assumed Reid still had of him. At first Reid had been falling for his lies too, but he'd since learned better. Dale was a liar, and a cheat, and til' he proved otherwise, Reid wasn't going to buy what he had to sell. "Still that lying sack of shit is my brother, and I can't just sit by and watch you give him what's comin'," he said with a frown.<br><br>"You're sidin' with them Reid," asked Dale with a clear look of hurt and shock on his face. "With them liars, stead of me," he asked. "You really think yer older brother is a liar," he asked. <br><br>"<strong>You are a Liar</strong>," barked Brent shaking his head disapprovingly at the man turning his eyes to Reid there after. <br><br>Reid would look back and shake his head, "look how much did he try to swindle you out of," he asked, still feeling that the odds were good he could talk his way out of this one rather then beating what for all he knew could be a honest man."I'll make it even," he said. "And I'll take care of him," he added glancing back at his brother. Sometimes it wasn't enough but the point was trying to talk someone down before it got out of control. <br><br>"<strong>Thirty dollars</strong>," Brent said flatly. <br><br>"Thirty, we was gamblin fifteen," Dale snarled struggling back to his feet outraged once more. "He is lyin, Reid. I swear he's lying, and now he's takin' even more of our money," he said, once more struggling to get to his feet like he was going to fight more. <br><br>Reid didn't look back at his brother but instead handed Brent the cash. "Sorry that he was troublin' you," he said. "Glad it didn't have to come to blows," he said bowing and tipping his hate before turning his attention back to his brother. <br><br>"<strong>Jus' see too it he don't do it again, I ain't gonna be so agreeable next time,</strong>" Brent said with a frown and hard look at Dale before turning and moving back into the saloon. <br><br>"Reid, I am your older brother, you're pose to respect me," Dale said as he stumbled to his feet groggily, barely keeping his balance. He resisted his brother at first before his arm went over Reid's shoulders to help keep his balance. "Don't you love your big brother," he asked with a soft whimper as the two moved away from town. "I'm gonna make it rich, make things easy for us Reid," he said. "You believe that dontcha," he asked as his brother more or less carried him away. <br><br>"I do love you, you fool," Reid replied dismissively leading Dale back to camp. "It's why I keep bailing your stupid ass outta trouble," he said. Stumbling as Dale lost his balance but Reid kept a good hold of him and got him back to his feet. "One of these days I ain't gonna make it before you get yourself killed, and then where'll we be," he asked. It was a familiar routine, but a routine that needed to be done all the same. <br><br><br><div align="center"><strong>~end scene~</strong></div>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ciosa</strong> on <strong>09-05-2014, 20:26:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr> <div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/0/00/Fatherortega.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong> Father Esteban Ortega<br><strong>Faction:</strong> None<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 14th, 1876<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> Morning<br><strong>Location:</strong> St. Martin's Chapel<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Open<br><hr> <br><acronym title="”Thanks be to God!”">“Ite, missa est!”</acronym>&nbsp; In a hundred other Catholic churches, the final words of the Father and the traditional blessing would have marked the end of the Catholic mass.&nbsp; Indeed - there were a few staunch Catholics who left after the blessing, but many of those who attended stayed after.<br><br>A few hours of Latin, hymnals, and communion was an important ritual, but Father Ortega had amended a small tradition to the conclusion of his services.&nbsp; By Catholic tradition, the introductory rites, Liturgy of the Word, Liturgy of the Eucharist, communion and the final concluding rite were all in Latin - but few of the frontiersfolk that had settled Gomorra spoke Latin, more than a few words and phrases repeated often enough in church.&nbsp; The sermons, prescribed by a distant Vatican and written out to the letter, day by day, from a council of Cardinals oceans away didn’t always serve the people of Gomorra.<br><br>Father Ortega did.&nbsp; Above all else, the Father was a man intent upon serving the needs of Gomorra, and though some of the church-goers attended on the basis of deeply held belief, many more simply feared for their souls and what might befall them if they didn’t show and sit through the penance of being in church.&nbsp; <br><br>But the St. Martin’s Chapel was not a traditional Catholic church in one regard - for after the hours of indulgence and patience, after the final blessing, Ortega did not retreat from the pulpit.&nbsp; He didn’t retire under the final hymnal - he joined in, his voice strong and weathered and joyous if not overburdened with musical talent.<br><br>Then he remained, and he opened his bible, and he read.<br><br>“Psalmus David. Dominus regit me, et nihil mihi deerit:<br>In loco pascuæ ibi me collocavit. Super aquam refectionis educavit me:<br>Animam meam convertit. Deduxit me super semitas iustitiæ, propter nomen suum.<br>Nam, et si ambulavero in medio umbræ mortis, non timebo mala: quoniam tu mecum es. Virga tua, et baculus tuus: ipsa me consolata sunt.<br>Parasti in conspectu meo mensam, adversus eos, qui tribulant me. Impinguasti in oleo caput meum: et calix meus inebrians quam præclarus est!<br>Et misericordia tua subsequetur me omnibus diebus vitæ meæ: et ut inhabitem in domo Domini, in longitudinem dierum.”<br><br>Much like the rest of the service, few among the parishioners knew precisely what had been spoken, and so Ortega closed his Bible, and carried it, and walked down from the pulpit.<br><br>“A Psalm of David. The Lord directs me, and nothing will be lacking to me.<br>He has settled me here, in a place of pasture. He has led me out to the water of refreshment.<br>He has converted my soul. He has led me away on the paths of justice, for the sake of his name.<br>For, even if I should walk in the midst of the shadow of death, I will fear no evils. For you are with me. Your rod and your staff, they have given me consolation.<br>You have prepared a table in my sight, opposite those who trouble me. You have anointed my head with oil, and my cup, which inebriates me, how brilliant it is!<br>And your mercy will follow me all the days of my life, and so may I dwell in the house of the Lord for length of days.”<br><br>His voice was calm, and soft, at first.&nbsp; It rose as he spoke, gathering strength, eyes and ears attentive now as he repeated the words in a language the people understood.&nbsp; After the words had settled, he gave a small smile.&nbsp; <br><br>“This may seem a strange time, a strange place to talk about the water of refreshment.&nbsp; Gomorra does not see many pastures.&nbsp; But these mines, though they do not bear the fruit of the field, still bear the fruit of our brow.&nbsp; These people - their souls still need conversion.&nbsp; They need to be led away, on the paths of justice.&nbsp; For the sake of His name.”<br><br>His brow was furrowed, and he paced slowly before the congregation.<br><br>“And I know, not one of you sets foot in Gomorra, or in the Maze, or into a mineshaft without <em>knowing</em> in your hearts you are in the midst of the shadow of death.”<br><br>There was foot stomping, a few nods of agreement, quiet murmurs that went through the crowd.<br><br>“So I ask you to fear no evil.&nbsp; I ask you to take consolation in the His rod and staff, and know that the Heavenly Father - he is a <em>good</em> shepherd.&nbsp; I know you have faced death.&nbsp; I know your hearts have been touched by fear, by the deaths of those you have known for years or for hours.&nbsp; By the darkness which descended upon a place meant to sooth our most troubled minds.”<br><br>His worn features looked out over the crowd, compassionate and kind.&nbsp; He touched shoulders as he walked.&nbsp; “He has prepared a table, in my sight, opposite those... who trouble me.”&nbsp; He turned and looked towards the walls.&nbsp; “Not far from here, men sleep in huddled tents and dream of the silver and gold they might send back to their homes, their families.&nbsp; &nbsp;Across the table - men who dream of <em>industry</em> and <em>wealth.</em>&nbsp; On both their backs, a table has been built.&nbsp; Not far from here, wealthy men and women who were scions of the South sit across the table from men who build machines that fly through the air like the angels themselves.&nbsp; One dreams of a better past, and one of a better future, but they both sit at the table the Lord has prepared.&nbsp; Not far from here, new people arrive in Gomorra - and not far from here, we bury those who’ve shed their blood for it.&nbsp; But they all sit - here, at the same table.”<br><br>He lowered his head, and there was a small smile.&nbsp; “And here, He anoints our head, and He anoints our cups.&nbsp; Here, where we all sit, united at one table.&nbsp; Quam præclarus est.&nbsp; How brilliant it is.”<br><br>He drew a slow breath, leaning against a parishioner’s shoulder.&nbsp; “Some among you have lost those you love.&nbsp; &nbsp;Some have never come to see the silver, the gold, the ghostrock.&nbsp; But the Lord’s mercy - it is meant for every man and woman at His table.&nbsp; Ask His forgiveness, and you shall receive it.&nbsp; Ask His forgiveness, ask His mercy - and show His mercy in kind, and you will <em>dwell</em> in <em>His</em> house!&nbsp; For the length of days - when every face you know, when every person you have ever cherished is blown to dust upon the wind - you will dwell in <em>His</em> house.&nbsp; That is His mercy,” he said.&nbsp; “No matter who you have buried, by earth or by sea, no matter what side of the table you sit upon - you will dwell in His house.&nbsp; So I ask you - take His mercy into your hearts.&nbsp; Do not fear the shadow of death, do not fear evil - for his rod, and his staff, they will protect you.&nbsp; His mercy will lift you up.&nbsp; He will anoint every head at this table, and every cup.”<br><br>He smiled, his face filled with joy, and spread his hands.<br><br><acronym title="”Thanks be to God!”">“Ite, missa est!”</acronym>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Niferbelle</strong> on <strong>27-05-2014, 00:34:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3b/Lilah2.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Lilah 'Li-Li' Oliver (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9813377#msg9813377)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> There have been a few rumors but who listens to those<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 21<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> outside the Five and Dime<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Reid, open<br><hr><div align="center"><em><span style="font-size: 8pt;" class="bbc_size">Continued from here (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=167802.msg10035502#msg10035502)</span></em></div><br>"Let me start by posin' this," she began. She thought she knew how he would respond but she needed a way to ease into the subject. She stopped and turned to face him. "Let's say you saw somethin' by accident and what you saw could get you in a lot of trouble with folks in town who have the means to make yer life miserable...includin' puttin' you in the ground, if it came to it...if you went and got yourself involved, but if you didn't, terrible things could continue to happen and who knows how many more end up dead. This thing you saw though, it's dangerous, prolly too much for you to handle so maybe you should just go about yer life and just be glad it ain't come from you. Then again, can you really just go about things and say the hell with everybody else, let 'em take their chances? I mean, that ain't right either, is it?"<br><br>Maybe he would advise her to proceed with care but she had a feeling if he were making the decision for himself, he would ignore the danger and try to make sure innocent folks didn't end up dead. She didn't know him well though, maybe he would surprise her. "I gotta ask you somethin' else too. How much do you believe 'bout the stories you here of beasties and ghosts and things that go bump in the night?"<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Untamed Skies</strong> on <strong>11-06-2014, 21:31:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="floatleft">(http://i277.photobucket.com/albums/kk59/Untamed_skies/9c4d7342-66e5-4a03-96db-6e391ad6eb88_zps7ecf9012.jpg) (http://s277.photobucket.com/user/Untamed_skies/media/9c4d7342-66e5-4a03-96db-6e391ad6eb88_zps7ecf9012.jpg.html)</div><strong>Name</strong>: Reid Lawson<br><strong>Faction</strong>: none<br><strong>Date</strong>: May 21<br><strong>Time of Day</strong>: afternoon<br><strong>Location</strong>: Moving around town<br><strong>Tagged</strong>: Lilah, Open<br><br><br><br><br><br>Reid had been certain that there was going to be a interesting story worth listenin' to. At least judging from her body language anyway. Clearly she was rattled, enough so she was still going over everythin' quick as she could in her mind. He wondered as he they moved it maybe whatever spooked her hadn't happened so long ago. Like maybe last night? It was still real hard to judge at any rate and he found himself simply remaining quite as she began to talk. Carefully listenin for anythin' she was sayin'. Maybe she'd slip up on a detail and let him know more then she wanted to. Course she might tell him everything as well and then his extra close listenin just made him a good listener. Still for whatever reason he was a bit concerned with the attidue of his new friend, and all ready those "do good" instincts were starting to kick hin.<br><br>When she did start talking Reid would frown as she started to talk. Course it sounded like maybe she had walked in on a ring of bandits or something. Maybe the types that had a connection with someone important that could allow them to do thing otherwise they wouldn't be able to get away with. That's what Reid's first instinct was anyway. Wasn't necessarily hard to accidentally walk up on someone doing something shady. The question was still a tough one if it were to be considered. Not one that ought to answered in the blink of the moment, less you was a large fool. "I suppose, it'd depend on how much good I feel could do," he said after a few moments as he turned his eyes to her. "Doesn't do no one, no good if I just go in guns blazin and get myself killed," he said folding his arms. "Spose if I didn't feel it was something I could do by myself, I'd look into findin' some help if it was a big menace," he said. There were some big words in what she'd said. Like "more dead," being one that particularly drew his attention to her opening talk. The trouble was if it was a real big and real dangerous problem and he didn't think there was much a chance of him walkin' away alive, or even at least bein' able to take the beast with him, gettin' himself killed? That didn't help anyone but the person tryin' to kill him did it?<br><br>Her next question changed the entire complexion of what she was askin him. Where as before his imagining was along the lines of some sorta conspiracy goin on in town, and there were plenty of those. She was asking him something entirely different. His face would grow a bit darker as he tried to sort out what that meant and the implications certainly weren't something he was necessarily happy to be hearin' either. "I've been around these parts long enough to know, things do go bump in the night," he said pausing before he'd pause. "You want to come out and tell me what's troublin' ya Lilah," he asked with a light frown appearing on his face. He felt he'd connect pieces sure, but it'd be better if she just said it. Make sure they were understandin' the same stuff. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Doomtown Reloaded: Around Town (IC Thread)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Niferbelle</strong> on <strong>14-06-2014, 03:47:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<hr><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3b/Lilah2.jpg)</div> <br><strong>Name:</strong> Lilah 'Li-Li' Oliver (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=200832.msg9813377#msg9813377)<br><strong>Faction:</strong> There have been a few rumors but who listens to those<br><strong>Date:</strong> May 21<br><strong>Time of Day:</strong> afternoon<br><strong>Location:</strong> out on the street<br><strong>Tagged:</strong> Reid, open<br><hr>He was practically handing her a written invitation to tell him. She could tell from his voice he was starting to get a might concerned and if she didn't tell him now he was just going to be thinking all kinds of terrible things it could be anyway yet still she paused. If she shared this, and if he believed her, she would be putting something awfully worrying on his mind and she felt guilty giving him something to fret about when maybe his path wouldn't ever cross paths with 'doggy' and it would be nothing he'd have to be troubled with. Then again, how bad would she feel if he ran afoul of the beast? Pretty damn bad, she decided. She looked up and down the street just make sure there weren't any prying ears within eavesdropping range, and took a deep breath.<br><br>"Last night I came across a lawman...that Townsend fella...leading none other than Delores Whateley back to the Whateley estate," she began, keeping her voice low. There was no doubt by her expression that she believed every word she was about to tell him. "You know what they say Delores done, little thing like that? Anyways, I figured right away the Whateleys had once again bought their own brand of justice, wouldn't be the first time, and we'd all wake up this mornin' and hear how she escaped or some such and none would be the wiser. I got curious about so I followed 'em a piece. Delores was spouting off all kinds of crazy stuff and Townsend had no patience for it, started treatin' her rough and all, even threatened to do her in, to hell with what he was s'posed to do. That's when it happened."<br><br>Lilah had to pause and figure out how she was going to describe the indescribable. "She gets right mad and gets this crazy smile on her face, starts calling for 'Doggy'. I didn't know what to make of it -- she was already talkin' to her doll. Then I'll be damned if this ol' goat don't come stumbling in, just some ol' wino, just as Townsend was fixin' to shoot Miz Whateley but the gun goes off and it's the old man what gets it, right in the chest. The poor man calls out the Lord's name and falls to his knees, he's pleadin' 'no' over and over again, I think he was begging for what happened next not to happen. That was my read of it, anyway."<br><br>She reached out and touched Reid's arm, locking her eyes with his knowing the worst part was coming. "I don't know you very well, Reid, but I like ya. And I don't like many folk 'round here. And I swear to you I'm not crazy, what I'm about to say is the pure truth. You would think this old codger would die, takin' a bullet like that, but he didn't. Right before my eyes, he turned into something else. There was a terrible growl that turned into a howl and Townsend starts unloading his gun, but it don't do know good, 'cause the old man turned into some horrible beast...a huge, slavering thing, and I stood right there and watched it tear Townsend to pieces. I'll never forget the sound of it."<br><br>She shuddered. "And all the while, Delores Whateley standing there giggling like she's watchin' a pup playin'. Then there's nothin' left of Townsend and I think it's gonna tear that woman up next, but instead it turned and scooped her up, she clingin' to him like she was bein' carried by her daddy, and run off with her. I've been giving it some thought, and I think somehow she can summon or control that thing...so all those people didn't die by her hand but they died by her will...or at the very least, she took delight standin' by and watchin' it happen, I guarantee you that."<br><br>She exhaled slowly. Maybe she was making Reid's life more troublesome but she sure felt better sharing it with somebody and other than bending his ear, she wasn't going to ask for anything more than his advice. "It was awful dark...I might recognize&nbsp; the man if'm I saw him again. Pretty sure I'd recognize his voice from before he changed. But the question is...what now? Me and my six shooter ain't gonna do a damn thing to it. Whateleys own half the town and got enough money to bribe every law dog in office if they need to and they wouldn't take too kindly to my story. I don't feel like I can let it go though...what if I'm the only person what knows? How many more people are gonna dies if I don't do nothin'? Somebody's gotta know about this stuff, right? Maybe the Sioux? Those injuns are always talkin' about spirits and magic and that kinda thing. I either gotta figure out what to do or hand this off to somebody who can handle it but won't bow to the Whateleys...and I ain't got a clue either way."<br>
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