Legend of the Sierra Negra

[bushwacked]

Stirrup glared at Bill. "Ain't nothin' been inflated. 'sides you, y'old gas bag." He sniffed indignantly. "Stick around, maybe ya could see my... expolits with yer own eyes."

He turned his attention back to Chip, ignoring the sorry sap who entered the saloon with Rango. "As fer you - let's see ya put yer gun where yer mouth is. Outside. Duel 'tween you n' me." Stirrup grinned. "Give you yer 'retirement' with a bullet 'tween the eyes..." He started to reach down to his holster... then his hand paused as he caught the word 'treasure' being thrown around in the crowd, a sound that wrenched his attention towards the newcomer.

Stirrup glanced back quickly at Chip and Bill, his eyes narrowed. "Now ya both jus' shut up! Shut yer mouths!" he hissed, despite the fact that he'd been the last one to talk, and craned his head towards the fussing crowd, struggling to hear what they were talking about.

[Kor]

It didn't take long for them to find a place to put the wagon and horse while they were in town and pay the person for storage and to take care of the horse while they were there.

"I feel like drinkin more then just water for a change." Jack said looking in the direction of the bar.  

"I was thinking the same.  Good place as any to relax a bit." John said and they started back to the bar.  "Water is ok, but it does get boring after a while." He said.

"Water is boring to drink, but it is cheap.  And easy to keep from spoilin." Jack said.

[StrutEggStealer]

Chip snickered. "I don't fight with guns... duels end too quickly. Pick up a blade, an' then let's talk," he turned a rather impatient huff to Buford. "Prairie oyster... 'member? Hangover an' all?"
And then his ears pricked. "Hold the damn phone," he muttered, surprised. He swung around on his barstool, eyes settling on Melander. "An' who's this?" He demanded.

(I'm having waaaay too much fun makin' him angry )

[Pterano]

Melander felt eyes on him long before he heard the voice asking who he was. Smiling now, he swiveled in his stool as Buford was reminded of Chip's order.

"Oh... right!" the toad croaked, and got to work on making the somewhat unusual drink. "Yeah, yeah, I got it!" he responded, breaking the egg into the glass and began mixing in the salt and pepper, Worcestershire sauce and finally the Tobasco. "Here you are!" Buford said, handing over the glass.

"Anyway... name's Melander... Peter Melander." Melander informed Chip in his slight German accent. "A weary traveler having traversed the desert looking for a more hospitable place than the one I originated from. Long treks... vicious foes... lost treasure... all that."

"Sounds kinda like your first time here, Rango!" Buford pointed out with a smirk.

"Well... uh... I think this guy's genuine though." Rango quickly put in.

"Heh... it's all true, I tell you." Melander stated seriously here. "Almost didn't survive... but here I am." he said, shrugging. "Regaining my composure... and now I just gotta work on the bits of my memory that aren't all there." he said, tapping his skull with a claw as he chugged another glass of water.

Bill lit up a cigar and jammed it into his mouth as he narrowed his eyes and listened with rapt attention to the stranger speaking, drumming his claws lightly on his table's top.

[Kor]

John & Jack reached the saloon and walked into it.  They looked around then walked over to the bar.  John sat down on a stool, doing so carefully to be sure it could hold him. The one he picked looked like it could.  He was well aware that his having more muscle then most others called for him not just sitting down anywhere.  

Jack coiled loosely around a stool and sat on it as well as a snake could.  Not wanting to stay coiled around his own coils and wanting to relax.

[StrutEggStealer]

Chip took the drink, but didn't chug it down. He settled back against the counter, an elbow propping himself up. Absently, he swirled the contents as he listened. "What... what was all this 'bout a treasure?" He asked, voice gone husky. The prospect of treasure -- myth or no myth -- made his blood boil, and being the reckless greedy he was... well.

He shifted on his stool, a smile growing across his face. "You uh... gonna need some assistance with this... treasure?"

[bushwacked]

"Oh no, ya don't..." Stirrup grunted, snarling at Chip as he rose from the table. He darted over to the bar, his tail wrapping around Bill's cactus juice bottle and snatching it away from the gila monster. Butting in between Rango and Melander, his tail tossed the bottle into his skeletal claws and he slid it across to the western fence lizard.

"Couldn't help overhearin' ya, friend," Stirrup grinned. "If yer worried about some... treasure ya lost, I'd be more'n willin' to give y'all some help..." His grin broadened, teeth filling his face. "Stirrup's m'name. And helpin' poor... weary folks is jus' what I do!" Shooting his long tail out again, he whipped Bill's cigar from his mouth and brought it over, offering it to Melander.

[Kor]

John & Jack ordered their drinks.  

Jack coiled his tail around his glass, not having any hands, and looked around the area to keep aware of some people since some didn't look trustworthy to him here.   He sipped a bit of his drink, "ah, better then what we had to drink on the way here." He said.

[Pterano]

Bill narrowed his eyes as his cigar AND drink were stolen by Stirrup. Melander smiled courteously at the two of them. "Thank you, but I don't want alcohol right now as I'm dehydrated, and I don't smoke." he replied, causing Bill to get up and whack Stirrup on the head again, this time none too softly.

"See? He don't smoke! Now gimme my bloody cigar back!" he ordered, practically swiping it away from the zebra-tailed lizard and jamming it back in his mouth.

"As for assistance with this treasure... yes!" Melander exclaimed, beaming as he waved a finger towards Chip (since he was facing Chip first). "I would... but... gentlemen... why I am sensing your motives for offering me assistance aren't entirely pure?" he asked here, grinning as he looked between the two of them.

"He's just 'ad a lot to drink, don't mind 'im." Bill commented, nodding in Stirrup's direction.

"Perhaps, but I doubt it." Melander replied, still smiling. "Anyway... both of you seem like rather nice gents who want to help... why not prove how kind you are by bashing each other over the head with bar stools? Winner gets to lend me assistance!" Melander declared, chuckling at the thought as he looked between ferret and reptile.

"Now, now!" Rango interjected! "None of that civil disobedience in my town!" he put in, hand on his gun.

"No, of course not, sheriff." Melander reassured him. "I was just a bit eager to see who wanted to help me more." he said, still smiling here as he looked between Chip and Stirrup.

Buford eyed the small snake that had slithered in, along with the second Gila monster. He filled their orders, and slid them down to his customers.

[bushwacked]

Stirrup scowled at Bill, noticed he'd left his drink, and took a swig. The word treasure kept bouncing around in his mind, the word repeating like some demented parrot. Gulping down Bill's drink, he glanced over his shoulder at Rango. "Don't ya worry none, Sherrif," he said soothingly. "It ain't a saloon if ya don't get no stools broken."

With that, he stepped around Melander, seized the stool next to Chip and brought it down on the ferret's head. It bounced off with a clunk. Stirrup paused and frowned at the seat. "Th' hell kinda stools ya got in this place?" he demanded indignantly, then tried again. This time, it broke apart with a satisfying crack. Stirrup dropped the pieces to the floor and turned to Melander, his back to Chip. "I can't help it, sir. Jus' a carin' person, always have been," he explained, brushing some of the stool's dust from his vest.

[StrutEggStealer]

Chip grunted as he slumped to the floor, not quite out, but more than a little dazed. His head pounded ever harder than before. This meant war. "Oy runt!" He snarled. "Never turn yer rotten back on someone who ain't out cold!" Chip grasped the stool behind him and swung viciously, kicking out at the lizard's feet to upset his balance at the same time.

That done, Chip swayed a little as he turned towards the stranger. "If y'all wanted pure intentions, don't go announcin' things like 'treasure' in a saloon, mate," he spat.

(That last part had me in stitches )

[Kor]

"Looks like a saloon fight.  Could be fun." Jack said after taking another sip of his drink and watching some of the goings on.  He kept himself coiled around the stool he was on.  He wondered if the fight would spread to the rest of the saloon or just stay with those few folks who started it.

John shrugged while he drank some of his drink.   "Considering where we are.  I'd be surprised if there wasn't at least one fight here a day." He said.

[bushwacked]

The combination of being tripped and smashed over the head sent Stirrup rocketing to the side, crashing into a table adjacent to them. Picking himself up from the wreckage, he adjusted his hat and slowly turned around, his yellow eyes burning. "You..." he snarled.

Roaring, he leaped across and wrapped his tail around Chip's throat, whipping out his revolver, cocking it and aiming at Chip's head. "I'm gonna tear y'open an' wear yer guts fer a sc-..." Stirrup trailed off and looked sideways at Melander and Rango. There was a long pause. "Well, I'm sure I ain't got no clue what I'd do with 'em," he chuckled, releasing his hold of Chip and holstering his gun. Brushing himself off, he muttered sideways to the ferret. "Yer so dead, ya don' even know it."

Stirrup grinned at Melander and raised his voice. "So... when we gonna get goin', friend?"

(OOC: I do what I can, Strut  )

[Pterano]

"All right, all right, all right!" Rango shouted over the crashing of bar stools and drew his gun. "Enough of that!" He ordered.

Buford sighed. Not again... maybe he should start making the customers pay for shattered bar stools...

Melander grinned, and calmed the sheriff. "Now don't you worry, sheriff. See how nice these two are? Willing to kill each other in order to help me! All you gotta do is mention a little treasure... which yes... I believe I was going to relate... well, my story begins last year, when I heard about the lost treasure of the Sierra Negra. This treasure is said to be greater than any in the Mojave... it was some Spanish gold or some such thing, the story differs a bit each time, but the details of immeasurable wealth are always the same. Anyway, the story goes that there was a city in this mountain range which was destroyed through a natural calamity, and was soon lost to all but memory. WELL... legend goes, that only the truly worthy can locate this lost city and its trove, but that's only part of the tale." Melander said, looking around at the enraptured host.

"The treasure is unfortunately guarded by a very dangerous individual named... Malachus. He's a rather fearsome sort you see, even worse than your Rattlesnake Jake. My run-in with him was... well let's face it, I can't remember all the details. In fact... I'm not even sure if it was him I encountered, as he has his minions as well. Now I'm no slouch..." he patted the guns at his side. "Bounty hunting is my usual profession, you see, but in this instance... the stories of Malachus are justified. I was thinking... with a large group... him and his retinue could perhaps be overcome... and..." He took another drink of water here. "We make off several thousand times richer than we currently are, gentlemen?" he asked, looking around here to the gathered assemblage.

Rango's eyes and mouth twitched a little at the mention of immeasurable wealth. Buford definitely seemed interested as well, having forgotten all about the bar fight.

[Kor]

John put his drink down, "You had better be careful with talking about that aloud.  Some folks would not mind torturing you so they can get money.  Some nasty types will do anything so they can get ahead, thinking only of themselves." He said.   Thinking that this person must be naive, or maybe not fully recovered from being dehydrated and his mind may still be a bit addled.

[StrutEggStealer]

Chip slumed back against the bar counter with a wheezy sort of giggle, massaging his tight throat. "Yer so dead, ya don't even know it,'" he mimicked the lizard. That caused him to snicker, despite being nearly asphyxiated.

He hauled himself back up on the stool and took a few deep breaths as he chugged the rest of his oyster down. He winced - that stuff burned! - but settled back to listen. His tail flicked to the side, showing his interest, and his ears pricked.

"Sounds like a mighty fine steal, er--" he thought quickly, "Deal! I meant deal," he didn't have any intention of killing off anybody in order to get to the treasure -- after all, safety in numbers. Wouldn't want to get bumped off afore he saw the riches, right?

[Pterano]

Melander turned to the Gila monster that had addressed him. "Torture me for information I can't even remember? They are welcome to it!" the lizard smiled here, spreading his arms. "I doubt I'd prove much use to these so-called torturers at all." he explained.

"Steal? Heheh... or deal?" Melander asked, looking over at Chip now. "Everyone gets their share based on what they do..." he outlined here, as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

"Uhhh so hold on! Where exactly is this mountain range? I never heard of it!" Rango cut in, stepping forward.

"Up here I know the way." Melander tapped his head. "Mostly at least. I... don't remember all of it... but I'm sure a trip into the desert would refresh my memory." he explained.

"So... what do you fine gentlemen do for a living?" Melander smirked, looking from Stirrup to Chip now. "You're good with bar stools, but how about guns?"

[StrutEggStealer]

Chip swiveled around to face the lizard. He paused to consider his words. "I'm... currently retired," he replied, casually. He examined his glass. "An' I'm a blade kinda guy. Guns 'draw' attention, pun intended,"

[bushwacked]

Stirrup sneered. "An' ya don't like the attention? Too scary for ya?" He rolled his eyes and looked at Melander, taking out his revolver and spinning it around the end of his claw. "I'm good with a gun. Real good." He gestured at Rango. "If our good Sheriff here took off his little tin medal an' balanced it on the top of his ugly lookin' head, I could blast it off with both eyes shut from across th' street."

He grinned. " 'Less he did anythin' t'get on my nerves. Then my aim might go a little south."

[Kor]

Jack looked at Stirrup, "Sounds pretty good.  You a professional sharpshooter or more of an ametuer type?" He asked, not mentioning his being a professional sharpshooter.   He knew there were others that were shots but had various reasons for not getting into being sharpshooters, and he didn't like bragging.  he was confident enough in his own ability, having been proving it to crowds for a few years now.  

"A prospect like that you'll need a group.  To provide protection for each other and for removing some gold." John said taking another drink.