The Gang of Five
Role Play => Random Role Play => Topic started by: Pterano on March 14, 2014, 04:46:36 PM
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Dirt had entered a period of water prosperity since the downfall of their previous mayor, and wanted for very little. Crime was down as well, thanks to the times of plenty and the efforts of the town's sheriff: Rango. Speaking of said sheriff, the chameleon was currently out walking the town's main street, six-shooter at his side and decked out in one of his less fancier uniforms. Leather vest, white shirt, faded gray denim pants, black boots, and dusty white ten-gallon hat completed his look. Striding towards the town's saloon, he gave off the usual "Good morning!" and "Howdy!" to the town's denizens before pushing the Gas Can Saloon's doors open and moving towards the bar.
"Morning, sheriff!" croaked Buford, the toad bartender who was currently polishing a glass.
"Mornin', Buford!" Rango replied enthusiastically.
"What can I do for ya?" the toad asked, removing his cigar from his mouth to tap it into an ashtray.
"Bottle o' cactus juice!" Rango order, and Buford twisted off the cork of one and slid it down for the sheriff to catch.
Rango did so, then grimaced as the spines pierced his hand. Wiping the grimace off his face, he more carefully picked it up and poured a shot, still not having gotten used to how those things were served here. Downing the first shot, he swallowed hard. Just another day in Dirt... but this day would turn out to be quite abnormal for several reasons...
Blinking his bleary eyes, the western fence lizard came awake on his belly, hand reaching out a bit into the dried earth that stretched out far ahead of him. Groaning, he tried to push himself up, but fell back down into the dirt, his mouth parched and his mind barely functioning. Trying once more, his self-preservation instinct kicked in, and he hauled himself up, blinking again to try and clear his eyes as he could see a town in the distance. Wait... a town? Out here?
Pushing himself to got one last mile, the lizard started off for Dirt, pleased he was within distance of salvation, and willing his aching legs to just keep going... keep going... keep going... he wasn't going to die out here.
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A cackle echoed across the desert. The zebra-tailed lizard shot a look over his shoulder as he and his roadrunner reached the top of the ridge and plunged down the other side, kicking up clouds of dust. The plain was clear behind them - they must have lost their pursuers some time ago. Sniggering, the lizard turned his attention back to the front as the roadrunner sprinted down the steep incline, dodging and jumping over small boulders. Tall and thin, his inky black body sat hunched over the bird, his dark, ragged vest blowing in the wind and his gun belt bouncing against his hip. Far ahead, the town of Dirt was a dark smear, hazy in the desert's oppressive heat.
"Ha! Yeah!" Stirrup whooped. "Ya know, I'd be mad ya didn't plug that old fella like I told ya... wailin', bringin' down the law on top of us like we was honey and they was bees... but damn that was a hell of a chase!" His voice, saturated with a southern drawl, was high and excited. Feeling a breeze on the top of his head, Stirrup reached up, plucked off his dusty black stetson hat and inspected it, keeping a firm hold to stop it from being snatched away in the wind. Another cackle broke free as he saw the hole that had been torn through, caused by one of the many bullets that had been sent their way. "A hell of a chase!" he reiterated.
Flipping his hat back onto his head, Stirrup reached back to tear free the now empty burlap sack that was tied to the side of his roadrunner. Whether it was a lucky shot, or if he'd been aiming for it, the lizard didn't know, but the sheriff had torn a hole through the bag with his rifle, spilling their bounty over the road behind them as they escaped. It seemed the bank of the town of Prospector's Peak could rest easy, knowing that the robbery hadn't been a success... this time.
Maybe we'll be luckier in Dirt... Stirrup twisted his head, turning his shining yellow eyes on his companion who rode beside him. He grinned, tongue flicking across a row of cruel, sharp teeth. "So this town... Dirt... ya say the Sheriff's a real pushover?"
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John was driving the wagon with Jack resting in the back. They could see the town of dirt ahead. Jack had a long & narrow strip of cloth loosely tied around where his eyes were and his hat pulled down low so he could more easily rest in the back of the wagon. John moved the stirrups to one hand as he took a sip of water. Putting it back he took the stirrups back into 1 in each hand.
"Looks like we'll be in the next town soon." John said to Jack. They had some of their stuff in the wagon, but not everything since most of that was back where the circus was.
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Bad Bill the Gila monster rode up beside Stirrup, narrowing his eyes as he noticed the hole shot in the zebra-tailed lizard's bag. Great... so they were broke again. He scowled, and looked from the bag to his fellow lizard. "Brilliant, mate! So no earnings from that little escapade? You know... we gotta making a living somehow!" Bill pointed out, still with narrowed eyes.
He then thought about what Stirrup had said. "Well... I dunno if 'pushover' is the right word." he muttered now. "This sheriff... he got in good with Rattlesnake Jake." the Gila monster said in lower tones. "Might not be wise to outright mess with him. He's kind of an idiot but... I wouldn't underestimate him either. He practically broke up our previous mayor's scheme to oust the entire town and buy it out single-handedly. So yeah, I'd watch it around him for now." Bill cautioned.
Bill was dressed in a black and white business suit with black overcoat, white shirt, black neck kerchief, black pants, black shoes, and black bowler hat. Made him look "respectable", which was partly their scheme for robbing banks. "So yeah... you want to check the town out... fine. Doubt he knows you, and I could concoct some story about being 'civilized' now after all." he commented.
The western fence lizard had wandered into town now, barely standing. He groped his way along the buildings for support, weary and tottering as he stumbled forward. Tripping over the front porch of a building, he ignored the queries as to his status, and found he couldn't go any further, and finally let his eyes close and his body fall forward one final time. Fortunately, several noticed his collapse, and he wasn't too far from the saloon either...
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"Jake?" Stirrup scoffed, "That overgrown snakeskin ain't no problem, 'specially if he got beat by a nothin' like our good friend, Sheriff... what's his name. Rango." He rolled the words around in his mouth, savoring the sound of the name. He'd heard a lot about Sheriff Rango... how he'd managed to save the town of dirt with a single bullet. But Stirrup wasn't impressed - from his experience, the more someone was talked up, the bigger the disappointment was when you saw them face to face. Still... maybe this time would be different. He shrugged. "Rango got lucky. We's gon' strike gold."
He ran his eyes over Bill's attire and snickered. "Civilized. Right. Bonafide." Bill still had a way to go before he looked like he belonged in upper class society... but he looked more the part than many of Stirrup's previous acquaintances, and certainly more so than Stirrup himself, who resembled a dark, walking scarecrow. The lizard turned and gestured towards the town of Dirt, which was rapidly looming closer as they raced across the desert. "We can hole up there for a time... get a good feel of the place. Which, y'already have, so we're halfway there. And then, when the time's right we blow that bank outta the water... speakin' figuratively. How's that sound?" Stirrup's roadrunner snapped in the air, and a threatening growl issued from its beak. Stirrup laughed out loud. "Look's like Ripper thinks it's a fine idea."
They reached the road snaking down to Dirt, and started following it along. Ahead, the lizard could see the town's saloon nestled amongst the other ramshackle buildings. He turned to Bill. "How's about a drink?"
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"I would think that would be MORE reason not to get overconfident." Bill iterated now. "He practically DID take down Rattlesnake Jake... sort of." he grumbled.
"Yeah well... I look the part of a businessman at least." he muttered to Stirrup's snickering. "You jes' watch yerself, all right?" he asked as they spurred their roadrunners on down the road, making for Dirt as the townspeople started to gather around the passed out western fence lizard.
A few looked up as the two rode into the main street, and some of those kept their hands on their revolvers, if they had them. "Bad Bill?" a few whispered.
"Top o' the mornin', fellas!" he greeted them with a wave in his typical cockney accent. "'ow are we this fine day?" He then leaned over to Stirrup. "Yeah... drink would do me some good." he said as the Doc arrived to inspect the unconscious newcomer.
Hopping down off his roadrunner as he hitched it up to the saloon's post, the Gila monster strode toward the double doors, ignoring the stares and hostile looks he was getting as he threw back the doors and sauntered inside. "What the?" Buford asked, looking up at the newcomers now. "Bad Bill?"
"Huh? Where?" Rango asked, looking around, then noticing the door. "Oh! Hold it right there you two!" Rango shouted, drawing his gun quickly and leveling it at the two of them. Bill raised his hands.
"Hold it, sheriff. Don't mean no 'arm! I'm just here for a drink, ya know? Besides... someone's passed out outside... might wanna check that out." Bill nodded behind him.
"W-what now?" Rango stammered, looking from Bill to Stirrup. "Who are you? Never seen you in these parts!" he demanded in an accusing tone.
Buford's hand was under the counter where it rested on his Henry rifle, ready to whip it out should these two mean trouble.
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Chip came to with a headache the size of Nevada against the side of the old Mayor's office. Well, the late-Mayor's office. The ferret groaned as his head sort of lolled to the side. Gads, he could barely move. What happened last night, anyway?
Chip managed to force himself up to a more-or-less 'no, I didn't just wake up with a massive hangover' position and squeezed his eyes shut. Waffles. He remembered Waffles, alright... Suddenly the sound of gentle snoring caught his keen ears and the ferret whirled to face a snoozing Waffles laying just beside him, a nearly-empty bottle of cactus juice still clenched in his claw.
Hangover momentarily forgotten, Chip scrambled backwards and then onto his feet, bracing himself against the side of the building. "Waffles! Wake up!" His voice sounded little better than a dry tap, but it did the trick. Waffles grunted and blinked once, bleary eyes red in the early light.
"Wha... happened?"
"That's what I'm askin' you, brainless! What's th' matter with ya, anyway? Don't you got a room?!"
"...Don't you?" The reply wasn't irritated, merely confused. "...Ya live here, don'tcha?"
Chip grabbed around for his hat and stuck it hard on his head, ignoring the question. Of all the times he'd woken up in a strange situaiton... this little ringer took the cake! "Get up," he growled, "an' get cleaned up." He started off for the Saloon.
(Sorry, probably should have asked if anyone was playing Waffles.... O_o)
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John drove his wagon into Dirt. He saw head a group of folks gathered around something ahead. He drove his wagon as Jack looked up, smelling the air with his tongue. John was not just a Gila monster, but a pretty large one, with large muscles. Some would say even his muscles had muscles. At his waist was a huge odd looking gun with a clip coming out the top, his gatling pistol.
The Wagon had a tarp on the back that was tied down to protect the stuff under it.
"What's goin on? Someone Passed out Drunk? You'd think that'd happen in inside instead of out." Jack said looking up from where he had been resting in the back of the wagon. He was a coral snake, with a gun on the end of his tail. Similar in appearance to the type Rattlesnake Jake had, though different since his didn't look like the end of his tail was cut off with it stuck on the end. It was one of the 2 types he had. The other being under the tarp. Though a coral snake he was easily mistaken for a milk snake, thought those who knew north American snakes or knew a certain rhyme would be able to tell that the red on him touched the yellow meaning he was a poisonous snake and not a non poisonous type.
"I don't know. Think I'll go over and see. You watch the wagon." John said as he found an out of the way place to park the wagon while he went out to see and not block the street.
Jack moved to the seat, looking around the town. Ready to shoot anyone who looked like they were ready to try to take the wagon, or bite them if they climbed into the seat or attacked him. He continued to use his tongue as snakes did to smell the air.
John walked over to where the crowd was. "Something wrong here?" he said in an accent that would place him as an educated person from back east.
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" 'Cause I 'ain't never been in these parts," Stirrup drawled, his arms hanging loosely by his sides. He looked down at the gun Rango was pointing towards them and grinned, his eyes flashing. "Put that peashooter away, kid. Me an' Bill here, we're jus'... weary travelers in need'a some... refreshment." His tongue flicked across his teeth. "This is a saloon ain't it? An' we're payin' customers..."
Stirrup brushed past Rango, stalking his way across the room to an empty table. Pulling out a rickety chair, he sat down and slowly, deliberately put both feet up on the table with a thump, slouching back. His long tail snaked out and wrapped around the back of another chair, the legs scraping unpleasantly against the dusty floor as he dragged it towards the table for Bill. Through a tear in the brim of his hat, he stared unflinchingly at the chameleon. "Keep yer stocking's on, Sheriff. We ain't gonna cause no trouble. Scout's honour," he added mockingly. The people in this town are weak... slow to the draw. Good. It's gonna be that much easier...
Still keeping his eyes on Rango, his raised two claws in the air. "Cactus juice," he ordered the toad behind the bar. "Two times."
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((Anyone can play Waffles currently. :yes))
The Doc looked up as John walked up to them. More newcomers... day of the travelers or so it seemed. "This man here wandered into town and just passed out! He's suffered several superficial injuries, and is severely dehydrated! He needs water!" the Doc announced, motioning for some water (which the town had plenty of) to be brought over.
Dumping a glass of water down the lizard's mouth, the Doc pushed down on his throat to make him swallow. Calling for another one, the process was repeated...
Inside the saloon, Rango didn't lower his gun as instructed, but kept it trained on the new lizard as he strode over to a table, narrowing his eyes at the audacity of this fellow. "Now let's get one thing straight here!" Rango said, moving over to him now and holstering his gun as he pulled his hat down lower over his head. He then deftly caught the bottle of cactus juice that was tossed over towards Stirrup, once more wincing as the spines got him. He slid and spun a chair forward with one of his boots, found it was facing forward, and quickly spun it so it was backward in order to sit down and rest his arms on backrest.
He sat facing Stirrup now as Bad Bill watched with a smirk on his face, leaning against the bar and accepting his bottle of cactus juice. "Now I'm the law in these parts." Rango started. "You keep that in mind... we'll get along just fine." He proceeded to take a hefty gulp of Stirrup's cactus juice, let out a huge burp, then handed it over to the zebra-tailed lizard.
"Sheriff!" came an interrupting call from outside as Sergeant Turley, a wild turkey with an arrow through his right eye, entered the saloon. "That stranger outside's wakin' up!" He was motioning wildly with his wings for the sheriff to come and see.
"Huh? Oh right! You just watch yourself!" Rango said, standing up and heading quickly for the door now as Bad Bill chuckled and shook his head, moving over to Stirrup's table. "And that's Sheriff Rango." he murmured, taking the seat Stirrup had pulled over for him, and setting the shot glasses down.
As Rango exited the saloon, he ran right into Chip, knocking the two of them back. "Oh whoa! Sorry there, pardon me!" Rango quickly apologized, not seeing at first who he'd run into.
"Uggggh." Behind him, the western fence lizard was groaning, and coming around. "Oh..." coughing violently a few times, he clutched his blue-scaled chest. "Thank you... thank you." he said, looking around him at all the townspeople.
"What's your name, stranger?" Doc asked.
"Melander, sir." the lizard replied. "Peter Melander... but I prefer m-my last name." he stammered here, having a slight German accent, or so it seemed.
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Stirrup watched Rango leave, cocking an eye as, through the saloon's swinging doors, they could see him collide into someone outside. "Boy's got himself a pair..." he noted, bringing the bottle of cactus juice up to his mouth. A long tongue darted out, tasting the rim where Rango had taken a drink. Exposing his teeth, he bit through the top of the bottle, spines crunching. "Thinks he does, leastways. What do ya say we relieve him of 'em once our... business here is over?" He took a few gulps of the cactus juice, more spilling out now that the top was torn open. Casting his gaze around, he enjoyed the nervous looks he was getting from some of the patrons. This job was going to be a piece of cake. Stirrup's eyes stopped on a serving girl across the room who was rather well endowed. He leered, staring openly at her chest. "Well, I suppose there ain't no need to rush things..."
Taking another swig, he turned his head back to Bill. "Last I heard, this town's bank had more than its fair share'a water," he said, lowering his tone. Stirrup's mouth curled up in a disconcerting imitation of a smile. "Guessin' that means it ain't jus' a matter'a slingin' a few bullets around..."
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John looked at Peter Melander, "He seems awake now." he said, then he looked at the Doc, "If you want I can carry him somewhere to rest. He may not be in a condition to jump up and walk around for a while." He said.
Then he looked at Peter, "how do you feel? Looks like you have been walking a long ways in the desert." he said thinking on how he looked and how dehydrated he appeared to be, from the way the doctor had also mentioned his being dehydrated. He wondered about Peter's wounds. Wondering if they came from walking in a desert from various things there, animal attacks and such.
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Chip caught himself on the door jamb, growling under his breath. "Pint-sized, puny lil' good fer-nuthin'..." his head hurt a lot. And right now, he didn't need people running into him, thanks so much. He swung away from Rango.
"What, you high right now?" He snapped. "What's the deal? I'm hung-over! Ya got nuthin' better t'do?" He scowled at the lizard in front of him. And then he made note of what was going on inside the saloon. "Ohai, there!" His face broke into a sort of maniacal grimace when he saw the Gila. "Bad Bill! Now, I wondered what was smellin' so bad! Who's yer boyfriend?"
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"I said I was sorry!" Rango reiterated as he walked over to Melander and the townsfolk. "Now what's the trouble, here?" he asked. "Clear the way!"
"No, no... I'm fine... thank you... I just needed water." Melander replied, rising shakily to his feet and using the building for support. "Ugh... yes... I've been walking a long ways... I can't remember much of my journey except the... the treasure..." he said softly here.
"What now? Treasure?" Rango asked, blinking, his attention piqued.
"Yes... the Treasure of the Sierra Negra!" Melander exclaimed, waving his hands outwards.
"The who of the what now?" Rango asked again.
"Ugh... mind if I... get a seat first, before I regale you with my tale?" the lizard inquired, still leaning against the building.
"Sure! Uh... right this way, good man!" Rango offered, offering to escort the newcomer into the saloon.
Inside the saloon, Bad Bill looked up as Chip called out to them, and scowled. "Hmph... this here's Stirrup." Bill knocked Stirrup on the head with a clenched fist, but not hard. "And yes... heh... it ain't just a matter of flinging bullets left and right." Bill muttered here. "We gotta be more careful. And what are you up to, Chip? Falling asleep under a roadrunner's feet as you drink yourself into oblivion again?" he chuckled.
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Jus' like I thought... Could need to bring in the moles... Stirrup grimaced. If there was something he hated more than the law... it was moles. Stinkin' vermin... Adjusting his hat, his eyes swung lazily up to inspect the newcomer who'd started talking to them. Stirrup sneered and spat to the side. "An' who the hell's this?" Looking at the ferret's face, he could tell he was hungover. Grinning, he drained his bottle of cactus juice and slammed it loudly back down on the table.
"Ya know this... joker?" he asked Bill, snorting derisively as he leaned back and fished out a cigarette, planting it between his sharp teeth. Looking Chip up and down, he struck a match on the side of Bill's head and lit it.
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Chip tilted his head, and sneered. "Didn't know you were takin' surveys. What's with this?" He gestured with a paw. "If that's s'posed t'be a disguise, you blew it like... now, actually." The ferret snickered. "Next time, try keepin' yer mouth shut."
Swiveling towards Stirrup, Chip folded his arms and smirked. "Chip is who the hell I be. Chip Ferret, former Outland Boy. It'd be about the time t'start shakin' in yer shoes, boy." He snorted, derisively and mosied over to the bar counter, a stool away from the Gila and the Zebra-Tail. "Prairie oyster, an' make it snappy," he murmured at Buford, rubbing his temples.
"So, now who the hell you be?" Maroon eyes flickered to the Gila's companion.
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"Name's Stirrup," the lizard drawled, his eyes narrowing. "An' ain't nobody gets me shakin'. Nobody." He blew a puff of smoke in Chip's direction contemptuously. "Former outland boy? Ain't no one but some washed up drunk I see sittin' in front'a me." His tongue flicked out and licked the ash from the end of his cigarette.
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With that done John went back to the wagon and climbed back to the seat.
"Looks like there was quite a commotion there." Jack said looking at the area where the group was. John started the horses heading towards where he could put them, and the wagon, for the time of their stay.
"Someone who walked a long ways in a desert perhaps. He passed out due to not having water for a while." John said.
"And is taking him into a bar a good idea if he needs more water?" Jack asked.
"Not sure. I heard if you are dehydrated that drinking anything but water isn't a good idea. But I'm no expert in that area." He said.
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Chip scowled. "Could say th' same fer you. Now why hasn't yer poise-like name caught my ear afore?" He swiveled his head back to Stirrup. "I've been wreakin' hell all over th' Mojave fer th' last ten years, up 'till that joker over there had t'meddle," he jabbed a thumb in Rango's direction, his expression one of intense amusement.
"But hey, maybe it was high time I'd retired. Burnin' buildin's, plunderin', murderin' all tend to wear a body down,"
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"Heheheh, Sheriff Rango's got a way of keepin' people in line, don't he?" Bill smirked at Chip here. "Certainly by far one of the more successful sheriffs we've had in these parts, that's for sure." he muttered as Rango led Melander into the bar now.
"Hey, Buford! Can we get several glasses of cold water for our new friend here?" the sheriff ordered.
"Sure thing, sheriff!" Buford responded, and readied a few glasses of ice water before sliding them down the bar towards the chameleon and western fence lizard.
"Thank you, sheriff." Melander said gratefully as he began gulping down the first glass. Several other townspeople entered the saloon now, eager to hear about this treasure.
All of them were muttering, and of course, the word "treasure" was on their lips.
"Seems neither of ya's heard of each other." Bill chuckled here. "Guess maybe your exploits are a little inflated, perhaps?" he suggested, unable to suppress his laugh, looking between the two of them.
Melander was still busy chugging glasses of water and rehydrating himself as best he could.
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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.
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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.
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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 :DD)
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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.
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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.
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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?"
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"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.
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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.
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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.
-
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.
-
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 :lol)
-
"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.
-
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 :p)
-
"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.
-
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.
-
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?
-
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?"
-
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,"
-
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."
-
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.
-
"You better not be implyin' what I think you're implyin'." Rango said, narrowing his eyes at Stirrup here.
"I ain't so bad with a gun, meself." Bill commented in an off-hand fashion, as if it were no big deal.
"Heheh... now THAT I'd like to see." Melander responded, turning to Stirrup, with a smile. "But not right now. I'm sure there are plenty of non-living targets to practice your marksmanship on, after all. Accidentally killing the good sheriff because your bark isn't as good as your bite simply wouldn't do." The western fence lizard shook his head here here and tsked. "I'm sure a judge might put a bounty out on you for such an action, and then you might find myself hunting you down." he smirked, pushing a hand into his chest now.
"Well!" Melander thumped his hands on the bar top as he continued. "It seems we're gathering up ourselves a posse, or close to it. Excellent! This is sort of what I was hoping for." Chugging another glass of water, he set it down heartily on the counter.
Before much more could be said, sudden screams resounded from outside...
A few minutes before, Waffles had been heading over to the general store to buy something for his hangover. It hadn't been very long before he'd suddenly looked up (after mostly looking at his feet during the walk) and found a giant chuckwalla standing before him. "Huh?" he muttered, blinking in the bright sun to see him more clearly.
Without warning, the big reptile suddenly grabbed Waffles by the throat, and yanked him in close. "Now you listen and you listen quick, mate. I believe a certain western fence lizard's either passed through these parts or else is staying with you here in town. You produce him NOW or I'll burn this entire town to the ground! Got it?" he demanded in a loud voice, shaking Waffles rather violently.
The horned lizard found his brain jarred from the constant rattling, and he had to take a moment to compose himself. "Eh... what?" he asked with confusion. "I... I haven't seen him!" he insisted.
"So... already won you over, has he? Have it your way!" The chuckwalla brutally kicked Waffles on his right knee, causing him to scream in pain as he went down, holding his bruised leg as the chuckwalla kicked him aside and began walking down Dirt's main road. "Attention citizens of Dirt!" he boomed in a voice that reverberated off the walls. "I believe you have in your possession a western fence lizard by the name of Peter Melander! He might be traveling under an assumed name! You will produce said individual at once, or I'm gonna raise hell in this town you won't soon forget! Ya hear me? Bring him on out!" he shouted, hands on his gun belt as he stepped with confidence down the row of buildings on either side.
Inside the saloon, Waffles's shrieks and the booming voice were clearly audible. "What's going on?" Rango asked, straightening up and listening to the words being shouted out now, then looking down at the western fence lizard, who appeared to shrink lower in his stool as if trying to appear inconspicuous.
"Nobody here by that name, right?" Melander asked softly, looking around innocently as his claws drummed on the counter top.
"You aren't some wanted criminal now... are ya?" Rango asked suspiciously, looking down at him.
"No... I can prove it." Melander reached into his coat pocket and quickly produced a warrant for a potential bounty, signed by a circuit court judge several towns away. "See? It's my profession, in case you doubted me before. I'm a servant of the courts. Why would I be motivated to commit a crime?"
"Ya got three minutes!" the voice was saying.
"All right, all right! I'll go take care of this!" Rango said, holding up his hands, pulling up his gun belt a bit, and striding for the saloon's doors.
-
(Ooh! Conflict :3)
Chip growled as he slid off his stool. To hell with this headache- that shouting wasn't doing any good to help with that- and the sooner he shut this newcomer up, the sooner he could have peace.
"Hold it, Sheriff," the ferret pulled up smartly in front of the chameleon. "This calls fer a diversion. Get what's-his-name someplace other'n here." He turned to Bill and the rotter. "If yer as any good with a gun as ya say, bet ya wouldn't mind showin' off, huh?" He smirked, pulling on his hatbrim and reaching for his blade.
"Showtime." He was looking forward to this.
-
"Oh uh... you serious?" Rango asked, blinking, but could see Chip was very serious. "Well... all right!" Rango nodded here and looked at Ambrose. "Ambrose! You're with us!" he ordered the burrowing owl, noticing Ambrose at least had his gun on him.
"Sheriff, I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but I think there's something..." Melander began, but was cut off by Rango.
"Don't argue with me! If something happened to you well... just think of the consequences!" he started to fib. "I mean... that circuit court judge would most likely have my head if I let something happen to one of his men! Now let's go!" Rango said in a more authoritative tone.
Suit yourself..." Melander murmured, and stood up off the stool.
"Oh and Chip!" Rango said, digging around in his pockets. "Here! Take this!" he tossed him a silver sheriff's star. "Distraction! Like you said!" Rango drew his gun and headed for the back door, opening it up and peering around outside. "Think we're good to do! Let's stay behind the buildings for now." Waving them along, he stepped out into the hot desert heat and waited for the others, who followed shortly after. "We'll get him over to the bank! Can hide him in the vault and get a better angle on this whole thing! This way!" Rango motioned, and Ambrose moved to follow, with Melander bringing up the rear.
Out front, the chuckwalla was chortling in a menacing fashion as he picked up a rock and threw it through a window of the saloon. "Anybody home? Havin' a good time, are you? Well you BETTER GET YOUR TAILS OUT HERE! NOW!" He roared. "I wanna see this lizard at my feet in two minutes! This town got a sheriff? Mayor? Where might they be hiding this fine morning? Eheheheheheh." Flashing his dirty white teeth, the chuckwalla craned his head from left to right, and finally settled his gaze on the saloon.
"All right..." Bill said inside the saloon, drawing his gun and keeping it at his side. "So how you want to play this?" he asked the ferret.
-
"That sherrif looks like he could use more then a little help." Jack said looking at the direction he had gone in.
John finished his drink. "If you want I can throw you to the top of a building and you can watch to see if he needs any help." John said.
"Hmm," Jack said thinking, "if I recochet the shot a time or 2 they'll never know here it came from. In case he does need help. Maybe I can even make it seem like it was his shot." Jack said, having part of his sharpshooting and trick shooting having a ricochet shot as part of his show.
They went out the back. Jack coiled himself up into as small a ball as he could. John picked him up, looking around at some buildings. He picked a good one and threw Jack so he would land on top of one with a good view of the area out front, in case Rango needed any help.
"Reminds me of that on city where I threw Jack into the air towards a net and he shot a card in half while h was in the air. Fun to watch." John said. "But we need to get a certain someone to the bank vault for his safety." He said.
-
Stirrup took a final gulp of Bill's cactus juice, then spat to the side and dropped the bottle on the floor, flashing his teeth at Chip. "Ya bet I ain't gonna mind." Swaggering over to the window, he peered through the hole where the rock had broken through, and took in the huge lizard standing outside. "Big fella... this is gonna be fun..." he sniggered, tongue forking across his teeth in anticipation.
Turning back to Chip and Bill, Stirrup adjusted his gun belt. "Looks like it's gonna take more'n a few bullets to take 'im down. I say, me an' Bill go right out there, soften 'im up, keep him occupied on us. An' you," he pointed a claw at Chip, "You can get 'round 'im. When he's nice, weak an' tired, you can put yer little pigsticker right in his eye." Stirrup gestured at Chip's knife. "Thing like that, y'ain't gonna get more'n five steps 'fore he takes you out, if you go right for him."
-
Chip caught the Sheriff star and pinned it to his jacket. "Hmm, looks good, don't it?" He snickered. "I may not wanna give this back..."
At the word 'pigsticker', the ferret stiffened and slowly drew out his machete. "Pardon? Don't believe I heard y'all rightly. Pigsticker? This is a pig eVISCerater!" He snarled. "An' I've got the star. Don'tcha think I should be th' one t'draw 'im out?" He started for the door. "There's a back door. Lead ya 'round the buildin'. Think you pea-brains can manage bein' quiet-like?"
He shouted through the broken window. "YEAH, WE'VE GOT A SHERIFF! AN' WE'RE GONNA NAIL YER SORRY ASS IF YA DON'T BUTTON UP!"
-
"Hmph! Yeah... we can manage it!" Bill responded gruffly, and turned and headed for the back door now. "Come on, Stirrup! Let's go shoot this bloke in the back!" Although... Bill had to admit, watching Chip play sheriff for a little bit WOULD be amusing, so he'd probably hold his fire initially. Kicking open the back door, the Gila monster began wandering around the building, and then ducked a bit as the alley opened up to reveal the stranger.
"Chuckwalla, eh?" Bill muttered, and continued on to the general store, moving behind that now to circle around behind the newcomer. "Had to be a bloody chuckwalla."
Out in front of the saloon, the chuckwalla grinned. "Is that the sheriff I hear actin' all blustery? Look sheriff! We don't gotta do this the hard way! You bring ole Melander out to me, I'll go on my way very peaceful like." he said. Of course, Waffles was still sobbing on the ground a good ways behind him, so it was a bit late for that. "You're down to one minute! You don't show yer sorry face in a minute, this town's gonna suffer! Mark my words!" the big lizard threatened.
Heading towards the bank, Rango knew they simply couldn't circle around to the front to enter, and the bank only had one point of entry. "Damn!" he cursed. "Uh... OK... just wait here!" he whispered. "I'm gonna go back up Chip!"
"Sheriff! A moment, please!" Melander urged.
"What?" Rango asked, stopping in his tracks to turn around now.
"That ferret of yours... you might want to give him this..." The western fence lizard held out a bright red stone now that caught Rango's eye. The chameleon whistled.
"What is it? A ruby?" the sheriff asked, taking it in his hands now to admire it.
"Not quite. But he's going to need it, take my word for it." Melander reiterated.
"Uhhh..." Looking at the stone again, Rango thought that Melander was off his rocker. "Sure..." he said here slowly, dropping it into his pocket.
-
Stirrup narrowed his eyes at Chip. "Ya think that badge makes ya proof 'gainst his bullets?" He grinned. "Suit yerself." Swaggering out the back door, he followed Bill around the alleyways, taking his time. Stirrup didn't particularly care about what happened to the town, didn't mind if the chuckwalla started killing civilians to get to Melander. The only thing on his mind was that Melander stayed away from this big guy... and given how much noise he was making, that shouldn't prove too hard.
Catching up to Bill, he leaned against the wall of the convenience store and adjusted his hat, looking at the chuckwalla who was facing away from them. "I take it lettin' him kill our beloved sheriff in there," Stirrup gestured towards the saloon, "An' then takin' this guy out ain't an option ya want t'explore?" He rolled his eyes and drew his revolver.
-
"Still want to get Melander to the bank and into the vault? Also is that person alone or does he have others with him?" John said, curious on both accounts. He glanced up to where he had tossed Jack, who had moved so he could provide any needed cover for Rango, or an extra gun if need be. He knew that Jack was a far better and more accurate shot then he was. Though he could use his pistol and was a decent shot also.
-
Chio couldn't help but throw an extra dose of theatrics as he strode out of the saloon. He was enjoying this too much. He planted himself in the middle of the street, mere paces from the big lizard. inwardly, he cringed, almost second-guessing this scheme.
Knock it off! He told himself, harshly. Jus' give 'im what-for, then let those blowhards figger out th'rest!
"I reckon you wanted t'see me? Though in all seriousness, I'd much more 'preciate a little handwritten note, 'r a bouquet. Standoffs ain't really my thing." He shrugged, exaggeratedly. "Sheriff Addison Wilder. Might I have th'semi-pleasure of inquirin' YOUR name?"
-
"Personally, I don't care WHAT you do, mate." Bill responded in a very low tone. "You wanna watch the 'sheriff' get gunned down in the street... be my guest." the Gila monster informed him. "Either way, I'm openin' fire, either when that ferret gives us the signal, OR... if he drops to the ground deader'n that hawk that Rango killed last year."
The chuckwalla grinned wickedly as Chip strode out into the daylight. Certainly didn't look that threatening, even if he had a certain air about him. "My name? It's Bandon." he replied. "But you've just wasted 25 seconds on that little exchange... which means you got exactly 35 seconds to produce Melander Sheriff Addy-son Wilder... or you're the first one I'm gonna waste, you get me?" He was flexing his fingers here, and getting ready to draw, by the looks of it.
-
Stirrup slowly finished checking his revolver was loaded, then looked up and regarded Bill for a moment. "Ya know what I reckon' I like most 'bout you, Bill?" he said. "Yer receptive sense of humour." Snorting, he brushed past him and leaned casually over a barrel that was placed halfway out of the alleyway, revolver cocked. He saw the fingers of Bandon's gun hand flex, and Stirrup grinned, waiting to see what Chip would do as the countdown neared zero.
-
Not knowing what the others were doing John went around behind a building and down and alley, peeking out of the side of a building. He bent over so from the height of his head he may look shorter then he really was. He wanted to look like a curious person, peeking out to see what was going to happen. He kept his right side hidden, since that was here his special made pistol was. If any shooting did happen he would diffidently join in, to help the sheriff, if need be. Just in case he made sure the strap that helped to keep his pistol in his holster. He also used his other hand and made sure he had an extra clip or 2 in a pocket of his vest. Then all he could do was wait and see what would happen.
On the top of a building Jack was also waiting. He picked a good spot that gave him a good view of things and waited to see if he'd need to use his sharpshooting skills to aid the townsfolk in any way. Very different from what he did at the circus. He had not done anything like this since before he joined the circus.
-
Now this was certainly an interesting change of events. Chip it the edge of his lip as he let his head tilt to the side. He raised his paws up in a surrendering posture, his left paw twitching slightly, serving as a signal to the two gunslingers - or whoever else was around that had a gun trained on the intruder - to get ready. "Now, now. No need t'butcher th'pronunciation. It's Add-ison. An' now, Bandon, why don'tcha settle down an' maybe tell me what a fella like you wants with a deadbeat like Melander?"
He gave his paw another flick. C'mon, c'mon, can't be blind can ya? He thought, irritated. "Let's say I'm willin' t'help out. But I can't rightly do that while yer armed, can I? Got people t'look after, don't I?"
---
It was at this moment that Beans chose to ride in from her ranch. She was on the other side of the happenings in the street, so when she saw the hullabaloo of townsfolk scurrying for cover, she was instantly on alert. "What's that dad-blamed Sheriff done got himself into this time?" She thought angrily, hopping off her javalina.
-
"Must be the signal! Works for me!" Bill exclaimed, and took aim now, pulling the hammer back and lining up his shot. Closing one eye, he sighted along the length of the barrel, and fired off a blast, the bullet impacting with the chuckwalla's back and causing him to stumble forward in surprise, his eyes widening and his body wobbling a bit... but strangely enough... he didn't fall flat on his face like Bill was expecting. "What's this now?" he murmured, and then his eyes popped as the wound on the chuckwall's back began sealing itself up of its own accord. "What the... HELL?" Bill breathed, gasping as he witnessed it.
Quickly drawing his gun, Bandon fired behind him without looking, and Bill just barely managed to pull his head back behind the building in time, chunks of wood flying off the corner of the general store as the slug tore into it. "Holy shit!" Bill exclaimed, blinking, and thanking his lucky stars that he was still alive. "How's he that accurate!?"
Snarling now as he looked right at Chip, Bandon began cracking his knuckles and advanced on the ferret. "That was a dirty trick... but it's gonna take more than that to bring me down." he snorted derisively, apparently completely unfazed by getting shot in the back.
-
Jack saw what happened. He was curious how that happened. Time enough to think that over later, he thought. He raised the end of his tail and took aim, then fired off a shot at Bandon's head, darting his head and tail back since he wasn't sure his head shot would have done any good and he certainly didn't want to be shot.
John was thinking that his pistol, though it was a gatling pistol, as the creator called it, would do much good. He was thinking if he'd have to bring his modified gatling gun, with a pistol grip that he used for his strong man show sometimes. He took out his gatling pistol & fired half a clip at Bandon, daring back so he would not be shot. He was thinking that his modified gatling gun wasn't to far, still in the wagon, if this continued he'd go and get that.
-
Bandon's head rocked backward as blood burst from it, and then he brought it back forward, grinning as the wound once again began to close and heal itself, this shot to the head apparently having about as much effect as getting shot in the back had done for him. He nimbly dodged the rest of the shots with a speed that didn't even seem possible with his bulk and returned fire on the snake, firing right in his direction without even having to look. "You idiots just about done with this?" he called, grinning wickedly at the ineffectiveness of their fire. "You convinced NOW that this is pointless, sheriff? Where's Melander?" he demanded angrily, apparently done with the games. "Or you wanna keep shooting me and watch what happens?" he inquired.
-
Stirrup stared in a mixture of confusion, annoyance and jealousy as Bandon recovered from shots that should have put him down twice over. Now where th'hell did he learn ta do a trick like that? Robbing people would be so much easier if he didn't have to worry about taking a bullet to the face.
Sand was pouring out of bullet holes in the barrel he was leaning over. In the few seconds after Bandon sarcastically invited another round of bullets, the only sound was the low hiss as the sand escaped. Then Stirrup shrugged, aimed his revolver lazily towards the chuckwalla and fired two more shots at the back of his head, then a third for good measure, the bullets tearing in and the wounds healing almost instantly. After a second, Stirrup frowned and looked over his shoulder at Bill. "There's somethin' fishy about this guy, Bill, and I ain't talkin' 'bout the smell, neither." He turned his attention back to the scene in front of him, trying to think of what to do next. Not being able to solve a problem by blasting it away was a first for him.
-
This wasn't the first time Chip had been surprised, but it was definitely the first time he'd been surprised by something like this. The ferret's throat tightened - Well, so much fer blowin' him t'Kingdom Come, he thought, wryly. He took a step back. "How come you ain't dead?" He hated that his voice sounded so unsure - sod all this roleplaying, anyways. He had to warn Rango.
"You any good at footraces? 'R do yer legs not grow back when ya use 'em?" He snickered, spunk returned. "Ya want Melander? Catch me if ya can."
(And that's why Chip is not Sheriff XDD)
-
"I possess certain unique... 'gifts', you might say." Bandon responded, sneering. "As you can see... I ain't like others. Sure... I can race ya... whenever you're ready." Bandon smirked. "Start running... I'll even give you a head start by counting to five." He chuckled here. Judging by how he'd dodged the fire thrown at him earlier, this chuckwalla could move much faster than this girth would otherwise dictate.
From behind the bank, Rango emerged, having been drawn by the sounds of gunfire. He'd arrived in time to see Stirrup's bullets do absolutely nothing to the big chuckwalla, and his eyes only widened at this. "What in the...?" he trailed off, his hand shaking as he considered putting some of his own slugs into the lizard's back... but would it really do any good?
"Beans?" Rango asked, noticing her get down off her mount. "Wait! Beans!" he called, running over to her, and drawing Bandon's attention. Rango froze in his tracks, and then suddenly, remembered Melander's words. "Wait a moment..." he murmured, digging around his pocket as Bandon leveled his gun at him. "Agggggh!" he cried out, beginning to run as the chuckwalla fired off a shot, the bullet kicking up dirt where the chameleon's feet had been a second ago. He briefly considered returning fire, but as Bandon was standing in front of the saloon, he didn't want to risk accidentally injuring or killing any of his fellow denizens within.
Pulling out the "ruby", Rango looked over at Chip as he ran down the opposite side of the street Chip was on. "Chip!" he called. "Chip! Use this!" he shouted, throwing it over in the ferret's direction now as Bandon fired another shot at Rango, this one grazing the top of his tail and hitting the building behind the sheriff, which was the old mayor's office. Rango needed no second urging, and dove through the doors of the bigger building to take some cover so he wasn't so exposed.
Rolling around the lower floor, Rango came to a kneeling position underneath one of the windows so he could get a view of what was going on, and get ready to back Chip up in case that ruby thing didn't work. But wait... what was Chip supposed to do with it? Melander hadn't said that... Gulping, Rango peered through the window to watch, his gun at the ready in case he needed to draw Bandon's attention.
-
Chip was more than a little glad to see that the Sheriff hadn't disappeared into thin air, but now he wasn't at all sure what he wanted the little lizard to do. This chuckwalla obviously wouldn't be brought down by gunfire, and the ferret doubted even his machete would cause much damage - a thought he didn't relish in the slightest. So when the little ruby came sailing through the air towards him, the ferret leaped for it, grasping it in his paw and turning over into a somersault.
"What do I do with it?!" He demanded, after he'd landed.
~
Beans ducked quick as you like behind her wagon, pulling out the little revolver she kept at her waist... for emergencies. "Rango!" She called back over. "You dead?" She tried not to sound as concerned. After all, no point in giving a psychopath leverage.
-
"Uhhh... well..." Rango trailed off, unsure on that part. "Well I'd say... get it up there and uh... let 'im see it!" the chameleon fumbled over his words, unsure really. "Uh, yes Beans! I'm alive!" Rango replied back, wondering at her unusual choice of words before it finally sunk in. "Oh! Right! Yeah... I'm alive!" he emphasized again.
Growling, Bandon began advancing on the ferret once more, looking like he simply intended to start torturing him to get what he wanted, as he could've easily shot him then and there in the street. Rango noticed this, and decided to buy Chip some time, taking aim and opening fire on Bandon, flinching as he did so, as he'd never killed anyone before, but his bullet slamming into the chuckwalla's side had about as much effect as the previous bullets did, but it did cause him to slide to the side and slow him down temporarily.
"Come on! Sheriff's got the right idea I think!" Bill exclaimed, resuming firing into Bandon's back, which seemed to do nothing but further anger the chuckwalla, whose eyes were blazing now as he shrugged off the wounds to his body. His teeth flashed menacingly as he began charging towards Chip now, looking as if he intended to rip him apart. As he advanced however, the ferret would see the ruby start to glow...
-
"Gonna need a backup plan, Rango!" Chip yelped, scurrying backwards. "I don't plan on dyin' anytime today!" He broke off when he noticed the pulsing light from the gemstone. "---The hell?"
Snapping his attaention back at the advancing chuckwalla, Chip bradished the jewel like he was holding some sort of larger - and possibly more lethal weapon. "Take another step an' I'll--" I'll what?! Sick this on ya? "I'll sick this on ya!" Wow, creative...
~
"Good!" Beans called back, relief washing over her. "What's goin' on? Y'all start a little fight?"
-
Stirrup fired shot after shot at the chuckwalla, not caring if a few of his bullets punched through the structure of the saloon where most of the civilians were hiding. He grinned with excitement - it had been almost a whole day since his last shootout. His revolver clicked - empty. As he quickly popped more bullets in the cylinder, Stirrup turned to Bill. "If this fella's goin' to so much trouble jus' to get Mel... whoever, jus' imagine how much that treasure's worth!" He cackled manically, sensing Bandon's appearance and Melander's fortune were linked.
Finished reloading, Stirrup snapped the cylinder in and turned back to the huge chuckwalla... and paused when he saw what Chip was holding out defensively. Jus' what th'hell is this now? "Is... is he tryin' to beat 'im with a pretty little stone?" Stirrup asked Bill over his shoulder. "He's gonna get torn to pieces..." After a moment, the lizard snickered at the thought.
-
"Yeah!" Bill replied. "Whatever that treasure's worth... it's gotta be immeasurable, as Melander said, no doubt!" Bill started reloading as well, and paused as he noticed the crystal. "What in the hell? He really think THAT'S goin' to work? The sheriff's lost 'is marbles!" Bill murmured as he finished reloading, and then fired off another shot.
Across the street, Rango called back to Beans. "Well this guy just came in here and started shootin' the place up! Not a real friendly sort, either! And he doesn't die easily either!"
As Chip held up the stone, Bandon's eyes widened, and for the first time, he actually seemed fazed. "Where the hell did you get that?" he demanded angrily, the glow resonating more strongly now as Chip brandished it like a weapon. Sure enough, it seemed to have an effect. As Bill's shot struck Bandon's backside, his healing power seemed to retard, and slow to a crawl. It was still working... but at a much slower rate.
Growling as he felt that shot, Bandon began to back off now, and raised his gun at Chip, but didn't immediately fire.
"Hey that silly rock's actually workin'!" Bill exclaimed, firing off another shot to see if the effect would continue, and it did, the bullet horn closing up at a much slower rate than before.
Grunting a bit in pain, the chuckwalla started falling back to the saloon before firing a shot at Chip's throat. "This isn't over!" he roared, and leaped onto the back of Stirrup's roadrunner, hacking the bird loose with his claws, and digging his spurs into its side. It screamed out, and began carrying the chuckwalla off down Dirt's main road. "We'll be back! That stone won't protect you forever!" he shouted over his shoulder, firing the last of his bullets in his first gun towards Stirrup and Bill as a parting assault.
Bill had to quickly duck down out of the way behind a barrel, and prayed it was full, which it fortunately was, and his hide was saved.
-
Stirrup's gleeful cackles turned to a gasp of outrage when he saw Bandon leap onto his roadrunner and take off. Roaring, he leaped over the barrel he'd been taking cover behind, ignoring the chuckwalla's gunfire as he sped past, and fired his own gun at the lizard's back as he escaped. "Get back here!" he screamed. "I'm gonna string ya up an' use ya fer target practice! I'm gonna saddle y'up an' beat ya like a mule! I'm gonna put my foot so far up yer ass yer gonna be tasting that thing I stepped in yesterday fer a week!" His revolver clicked as it ran out of bullets, and he stared after the pair despondently as they raced off into the distance. He cupped his claws around his mouth and shouted. "Don' worry, baby girl! Daddy's gon' come get ya real quick like!"
Holstering his revolver, he turned and trudged back to Bill, waving an angry finger. "I've been shot, set on fire, trampled, stabbed, drowned, starved an' buried alive. I even been hung once or twice. An' I ain't never complained. But takin' my baby girl?! That's too far. Too far!" He spat to the side and cricked his neck, heading back to where Chip and the others were. "Les' go an' find Melander. See what th'hell was up with that big guy."
-
John watched the goings on. He switched clips and was going to shoot the chuckwalla but hesitated since he wasn't sure he would not hit the roadrunner and he'd rather not hit it since it wasn't the bad guys' mount, but a stolen one. He was also sure that they'd see him again at some point. All to soon most likely.
That done he started looking around for the others, and especially Melander. He walked over to where Jack was, who had been watching the goings on, and had also not shot, since he didn't have a very good angle for a shot once the chuckwalla was on the roadrunner and had run off.
John put away his pistol and held out his arms, ready to catch Jack, how jumped once he saw John was ready. Once caught John put him on the ground.
-
Beans peeked out from behind her wagon. "Well, looks like things is clear," she remarked across to the chameleon. "This how you plannin' on mornings in Mud, Sheriff? With target practice?" She grimaced when she saw the extent of the damage done to the house fronts.
~
Chip had been relieved when he saw Bandon actually hesitate at the little red crystal - imagine, something so tiny could cause such panic - but the next moment, he'd found himself bowled over, his neck stinging.
Letting the rock fall from his grasp, the ferret touched his paw to the side of his throat, feeling warm wet blood staining the fur there. "Great," he muttered, hoarsely. "Ju's great,"
-
Rango gasped as he saw Chip go down in the aftermath of the chuckwalla fleeing. "Not planning on it!" Rango quickly called over to Beans as he ran out of the mayor's office now and darted across the street towards the ferret, holstering his gun in the process.
"Chip!" he called. "Chip! You all right? Need me to fetch the doc?" he asked, skidding to a halt near him as he looked down and saw the blood. Gasping a second time, the chameleon shouted out for the doc to come out and assist. "You're gonna be OK buddy, all right?" Rango tried to reassure him as he saw the doc emerging from the saloon now. "It just grazed ya, right?" the sheriff pressed, trying to get a better look at the wound.
"You reckon he was hit bad?" Bill murmured as he holstered his own gun. "And 'ey! Wot you yellin' for?" he asked, digging a claw around in his ear. "It's a mount, mate. It ain't THAT important, is it?" he asked skeptically, giving his partner a quizzical look.
-
Stirrup glared at Bill over his shoulder as they made their way to where Rango was fussing around Chip. "No, Bill, she ain't jus' no mount. Ripper's the bravest, fastest, mos' cleverest creature I ever did see. She's gon' tear off his head an' use his skull fer a toilet. Then I'm gonna use it t' snuff out my cigars. Not necessarily in that order. " His bottom lip quivered slightly, and he faced forwards, pulling his hat lower to hide it. "Sometimes, I reckon Ripper's the reason I ain't gone an' lost my mind in this crazy world, an' why I'm the pleasant lizard ya see today."
He reached Rango and Chip, and glared down at the injured ferret. "Aw, ya got shot?" he jeered. "Ain't that a shame. Tighten yer bra an' get up, ya big jessie! Ain't nothin' but a flesh wound!" Jerking his head to the side, Stirrup fixed his yellow eyes on Rango. "Where's Melander? I wanna know why that big fella ain't lyin' in the dirt with so many holes, we could'a stuffed him full of candy and made ourselves a pinata!"
-
Chip grumbled up at Stirrup. "Yeah I got shot. Why? Ya hankerin' fer the same treatment?" He sat up slowly, paw clamped to the side of his neck. "Jus' get me bandaged up. I'll live," he grunted, a little dazed.
Beans stepped out and joined the crowd in the middle of the street. She looked the ferret over. "That was a stupid move ya pulled, y'know. Makin' him mad."
Chip frowned up at her. "Yeah, tell me sumthin' I DON'T know, Miss Beans."
"All the same," the lady lizard continued, "Thanks fer not gettin' the real Sheriff killed."
"My pleasure. Next time, he can show me his gratitude by doin' the same fer me," the ferret's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Now, ya gonna heal me'r what?"
-
(Dangit, sorry about the double post! My internet froze! D:)
-
John walked over to Chip as he took out a handkerchief and handed it to Chip. "if you can hold it on your wound, or someone else can, I can easily carry you to a doctor, or somewhere more comfortable then out here." He said, bending down so he could pick up Chip, after handing his handkerchief th Chip.
"Ya, layin in the street's no place for a wounded person to heal or rest." Jack said.
-
Chip was stunned as ever at this newcomer's sudden appearance. Uhh," was all he could mumble. He pressed the handkerchief against his neck as he was directed, wincing slightly at the sting that accompanied it. "Um, much obliged...?"
Beans eyed the Gila suspiciously. "And where'd you pop in from? He a friend o'yers?" She asked Bad Bill.
-
"Just a minute..." Doc said as he began bandaging Chip's wound up with something a bit more permanent. "Well... that was a dirty trick..." the Doc noted, studying the wound. "Seems he's using bullets that shatter easily... you have a few small fragments in your neck... but don't worry..." Doc reached in and began plucking them out with his claws. "They didn't go too deep!"
"Uh yeah!" Rango added upon hearing Beans. "Thanks... I owe ya!" he quickly put in as he stood over Chip.
Melander stepped out now as Doc began reapplying the bandages to the ferret's neck. "Well heheheh, I guess you all weren't expecting THAT rather overpowered and practically immortal gentleman to show up in your fine town! Truth be told... I wasn't either. I thought I had ditched that guy somewhere in the Mojave but as it turns out... he was more persistent than I thought." Melander said innocently, as if it were no big deal they'd just been attacked by a hulking chuckwalla who could shrug off fatal wounds like they were nothing.
-
Stirrup hooked his claws on his gun belt and squinted at John. "Yeah, who are ya? Yer meddlin' in affairs ya better ain't not be meddlin'!"
At the sound of Melander's voice, he spun around and cocked his head. "Not expectin'? Ya don' say! Nah, tryin' to shoot a guy who shrugs off bullets like they was raindrops, well, that's somethin' I reckon I ain't had much experience in." He rolled his shoulders and stared down at the lizard. "So spill it. What was the deal with that freakshow? Why's he so interested in you?""
-
"Suit yourself." John said and turned to head in the direction of where he had his wagon stored. Jack moving to slither along at his side. John took out a bit of paper and a pencil, he crossed off something off the list then put put away his paper and pencil.
"Crossed off eh? Not surprised. I'd have voted no, if I was part owner." Jack said, not sure if he liked the place, in their short time they had been here.
"Unsavory types, some ruder then other places, especially places that are venues. I don't know whats who can't be killed and can do what they want." John said shaking his head, "No way I'd vote for here. Can't guarantee anyone's safety. " John said still walking to the wagon.
"That kills it then." Jack said, thinking maybe he was glad of that. He wasn't sure he'd want to come back here. They turned and went over to the building where the wagon was kept.
"Yep, all decisions by the 3 owners must be unanimous or nothing can happen." John said "I made sure that was in the contract when our 2 circuses merged into one. "
"We heading right out?" Jack asked.
John nodded, "Would you trust to go to sleep in this town?" John asked looking at Jack.
"No way." Jack said. "Even considering I sleep with both my eyes open."
-
Chip winced and squirmed. "Dad-gummit, if ya dig any farther, ya'll come out th'other side!" He waved a paw. "Jus' wrap me up already!" To Rango, the ferret merely rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever." He was secretly pleased to have some sort of recognition -- even if it did cost him a bullet in the neck.
Beans' eyes squinted. "Ya think he'll be back?" She tightened her grip on her pistol, as if Bandon were outside this very moment.
Chip scoffed. "If he's afeared - Dammit! Quit pokin'! - o' some little ol' gem, he'll likely stay out o' th'way." He finished with a growl. That chuckwalla had some nasty vengeance coming his way. No one put a bullet in Chip Ferret and got off scot-free.
(Even if they kinda do :DD)
-
"All right, all right! Quit yer squirmin!" Doc said, trying to get Chip to stay still for long enough as he started to wrap up his neck.
"That freakshow, as you put it, was part of Malachus's retinue. I remember encountering him in the Sierra Negra, and most likely Malachus sent him out to hunt me down and permanently silence me. However... he's not one of a kind, you see." Melander began explaining. "Bandon is just one of several that shares his abilities. You might have noticed his speed and reflexes, as well as his uncanny marksmanship. Malachus and his retinue all possess the ability to heal wounds at rapid rates. This is part of the curse of the mountains, and has something I suspect to do with part of the treasure. You see, I determined that something in those mountains has given them these abilities, but at the same time, their power appears to correlate with different stones that make up part of this treasure. That ruby that you held up before him was the particular one that resonated most with him. I found out that when Bandon is in the presence of their particular stone, his extraordinary powers are negated and severely weakened. Why this is I'm not sure, but perhaps the stones themselves are magical and placed such a curse upon them so as to make each one completely unique."
"So uh... let's say you handed Chip an emerald... it'd have no effect on that Bandon fellow?" Rango asked.
"Right... only that particular stone and not just any ruby or emerald or whatever you want has that effect on him. I managed to steal it before escaping, and figured it might come in handy." Melander replied.
"Seems like a pretty stupid thing to do... sending out the one who's weak to the very stone you stole." Bill muttered.
"Ah yes, but I don't think he knew I had it! You saw his reaction, after all! Total surprise! Now that means he's probably going to send someone else... someone who DOESN'T resonate with that ruby at all. Meaning... we'll have to be extra careful from here on out." Melander outlined.
Rango thought about this in his head. So... formidable enemies who could very well be immortal that had been placed under some curse in the mountains by the treasure. But only part of the treasure or maybe even something in the mountains had been responsible... Melander wasn't even sure on that bit. What he was sure of was that each cursed individual resonated with a certain stone... exposing their fatal weakness, or at least a weakness that was exploitable. This sounded way too dangerous to allow to exist, as it represented a clear and present danger to his town and his citizens, and the sheriff was already starting to think that heading to the Sierra Negra would be inevitable at this point.
"There ya go!" Doc said, finishing up the bandage job on Chip's neck. "Just don't snap your head around too much and you'll be right as rain in a few days!" the older rabbit declared.
-
Chip tested the bandage with his paw - it was stiff and alien to him. He felt his hand swatted by Beans.
"Leave it be, 'r it won't never heal!" The liady iguana chided.
Chip flashed her a dark glare, but diverted his attention to Melander the next second. The fact that he'd had such a lucky miss sent a chill up his spine - it was really a chance in a million he hadn't been killed all because of that silly little ruby.
"Ahh, so ya wouldn't happen t'have more o' those stones around?"
-
((OK everyone, I'm back!))
"Unfortunately, no." Melander shook his head here. "I only grabbed that stone before escaping. I'm not even sure which of his goons are paired with which stones, in fact." the western fence lizard explained with an apologetic shrug. "But count yourself lucky this time around at least. You came out of it with only a scratch. I was almost killed trekking this far. And he will be back... or someone else just as bad. He won't stop until I'm found. So there are two solutions: One, I leave your town and continue my quest to gather some formidable resistance against Mr. Malachus or two, we form that posse we had been discussing, ride out to the Sierra Negra, put an end to the legend, and ride back several times richer than when we left."
Melander smiled here, looking around at the assemblage.
Rango said nothing for the moment, knowing the option they'd most likely have to take. Even he could admit his sense of adventure was getting the better of him, despite the danger of it all. He was itching to go on another journey of mythic proportions, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he thought of it.
-
Stirrup snickered, hooking his claws around his gun belt. "Several times richer... Yer a man after m'own heart, Melander." He licked his teeth. And if he should happen to... pick up any of these abilities for himself in those mountains... Well, he wouldn't complain. "Any ideas floatin' around about which direction we should be headin'?"
Looking across at Chip, he shoved the doctor out of the way and made to snatch the ruby. "An' I reckon I should be the one ta hold this. Fer safe keepin', ya hear me?"
-
Chip tugged back, glaring daggers at the lizard. "Back off an' find yer own mythical gem!"
Beans grimaced. She knew all too well what the final choice would be. She just hoped the good Sheriff had a better understanding of the stakes this time aorund. "Y'all best be gettin' prepped, then." She remarked.
Chip, upon hearing that, jerked his head towards the conversation, wincing a little as his neck stung. "Wait, what? We're still goin'?"
-
After fully paying and making sure everything was still in the wagon Jack & John set out. They had stopped at a general store on the way to the wagons to get extra full canteens with water to make it through the desert. That done they started to head to the next town on John's list.
-
"Now hold on! Yes, the black-footed one will be holding onto that ruby for now, though I'll be taking it back at some point." Melander stated, stepping in front of Stirrup now to back him off.
"Well of course we're goin' out there!" Rango declared. "We can't sit back and let more of those varmints in here!" he exclaimed. "We gotta hit 'em first! Get 'em before they get us! Good offense is the best defense and all that, right?" he asked, looking around now.
"Well I'm all for it... I guess." Bill murmured here, narrowing his eyes and looking down at the ground. "Got nothin' to lose but my life after all, and I stand to gain quite a lot from it. 's like that old sayin'... pay a man enough, and he'll walk barefoot into hell! Yeah that's me right now!" he chuckled, brightening up a bit as he raised his head.
"Is uh... something the matter, Chip?" Rango asked, eyes swiveling down to the ferret.
-
The issue of Chip's mortality hadn't really hit him as hard in the past. Sure, he'd been shot, nearly strangled, and thrown off of roofs before, but he always managed to come out on semi-top. He hadn't really thought about not coming back until some random - and in-no-way-fair-at-all! - chuckwalla comes bounding in with a severe impervious-ness to pain! And the only thing stopping him was a tiny little jewel!
He clutched it tightly in his paw now as he swallowed. "M'fine," he muttered. "Jus' sore that's all." He didn't want to admit that he was more than a mite hesitant. Not scared, certainly, but the warning signs had shot up, and there was little use any amount of shoving them back under would do.
"When do we start?"
-
"I say we get goin' soon as we can," Stirrup drawled, turning his head slightly to look out at the vast desert surrounding Dirt. "Faster we get our asses in gear, the faster I... ah, we can get to that treasure. An' I reckon this Malachus ain't gonna be expectin' us to ride out straight away, neither."
He looked at Rango. "An' the faster you can get back here to protect your little... town," Stirrup said, waving a claw dismissively to show how much he cared about that.
-
Beans glowered at the lizard. "Ain't yer call t'make, sir! This here's Rango's decision 'bout when we go." She looked to the little Sheriff for confirmation. "Well?"
-
Rango looked around. "Well uh... shortly!" he exclaimed. "Gotta make sure we're at least properly prepared though. Start collecting yer firearms... uh, that is, everyone who's gonna ride with us!" he declared, throwing a finger into the air. "And we'll be on our way!"
"Where exactly are the Sierra Negra anyway?" Bill asked, narrowing his eyes.
"Oh... well uh... not... entirely sure on that!" Rango replied nervously.
"I can lead the way." Melander answered. "But rather than avoid the unpleasantries of having one of us ride off ahead of the others after killing everyone in their sleep if I told you all the way up front, I think it best if I reveal the way as we ride." the western fence lizard explained with a grin.
"So uh... you got a roadrunner there, Chip?" Rango asked the ferret, uncertain on that.
"He's got brains... I'll give 'em that." Bill murmured to Stirrup. "But I thought he said he couldn't fully remember the way. He's either lying or cleverer than he looks."
-
Stirrup sniffed and nodded. "I trust that lizard 'bout as far as I could throw my Mawmaw." He paused. "An' she liked t'eat. So that ain't far." Looking at Bill, he squinted his eyes. "I say, we keep our eyes on 'im. If he decides he's gon' double cross us... well, there's more'a us than there's a him." He didn't mention that if Melander was indeed planning to double cross them, using more of these... super-goons he'd mentioned, they'd likely all be dead. Willful omission was easy in the face of overwhelming greed.
Spinning to Rango, Stirrup waved an arm around. "An' I'm gonna need another roadrunner too. 'Least until I can get poor, gentle Ripper back." Putting his claws on his hips, he craned his head around. "Any fine, bonafide creatures ya got hangin' around?"
-
"Well of course!" Rango replied, nodding, and smiling a bit to himself. "Uh Buford! Bring out Lil' Nelly!" Buford's eyes widened at this.
"You sure, sheriff?" the toad asked.
"Yup! Sure am!" the chameleon replied. Nodding, Buford went off to complete the errand, and before long, a rather ragged, forlorn and worn out roadrunner was brought around from the back of the saloon.
"Here she is! Lil' Nelly!" Rango declared proudly, as if showing off a prize racehorse.
-
Stirrup stared expectantly as Buford disappeared around the corner. "Lil' Nelly? This had better be..." The lizard's mouth snapped shut as Nelly was brought out front. For a long while, he didn't say anything, the corners of his mouth starting to turn downwards. Then, with slow steps, he approached the dark blue roadrunner, his face dropping so low it looked like it might start dragging on the floor. Nelly and Stirrup stared at each other for a while, the bird shifting his feet nervously.
"What... is... this?!" Stirrup growled, spinning around to face the others. "This some kinda joke?! Lookit 'im! He's gonna keel over any second! He's all raggedy an' thin like," the ragged and thin lizard complained. "An' I bet you ain't never even killed a man jus' fer lookin' at ya funny, then worn his clothes fer a week t'celebrate? Huh?" he demanded the creature. "Have ya?!" Nelly blinked back at him, tilting his head apprehensively. "Stupid bird!" Stirrup cried, wheeling around and gesturing wildly at Rango. "I'm gonna turn 'im into a barbeque! Now, you'd better jus' go an' - Gah!" The lizard spun at a sharp pain in his tail, drawing his pistol and pointing it at the roadrunner. "You little..."
Nelly was looking around in an exaggerated show of innocence. Stirrup paused, looked down at where he'd been bitten, then holstered his gun with a toothy grin starting to appear on his face. "Maybe y'ain't so bad... I can see a killer in ya yet. I'll take 'im!" Nelly blinked and coughed.
-
(That was awesome... I need a Lil'Nelly :lol)
Chip grunted. "I ditched my last runner. Ya got any... healthier-lookin' ones?" He snickered at Stirrup. "Well, when he keels over on ya, don't go lookin' fer a free ride."
-
"Why of course we do!" Rango declared, hiking up his belt a bit and placing his hands proudly on his hips as he beamed. "We got one just as good as Lil' Nelly here, and I think you'll find him to your liking! He's the majestic, the regal, and the very swift Monarch!" Rango waved his hand to the left as Monarch was led out from behind the saloon. He was accompanied by musical fanfare and several dancing denizens of Dirt, and was a powerful creature indeed. Sun rays seemed to emanate from behind him, and Chip could see he was both muscular but lithe as well, a look of fierce determination on his face.
"Eh? What do you think?" Rango asked, smile still on his face.
-
Chip couldn't help but gawk. What was a runner like this doing in a slum like Mud? Which is exactly what he asked.
"How did ya weasel yer way into gettin' him? What, ya kill someone?"
He strode over to the runner and speculated him closely. He was... beautiful, in fact. But this was ridiculous! Didn't he swear he'd never take another runner after Atticus?
Atticus was different! He argued with himself.
-
Stirrup stared at Chip's roadrunner as it was brought out, his face as sour as if he was sucking a barrel of lemons. He turned back to Nelly, and the bird seemed to frown as if to say, Show off. Stirrup spat to the side, seeing with some satisfaction that it landed on the foot of one of the dancers as they pranced past. "Well, whatever. Ain't no way I'd take a thing like that, anyway. Draw too much attention."
Pulling himself up onto the skinny roadrunner, he adjusted his hat. "Let's get ready t'ride, then. I ain't got all day."
-
"Er, something wrong?" Rango blinked, noticing Chip seemed to be studying Monarch closely. "He's the real deal, I can assure you! And nobody was killed for 'im either! We bred 'im actually! At least... that's what I was told!" Rango quickly added, noting the shady looks he got from the citizens of Dirt, who didn't seem to care to elaborate on the topic. "Eheh, yes, well! Anyway, he's all yours if you want him!" Rango finished, giving a more nervous smile now.
"Hmph... roadrunner like that's not easy to come by... I bet someone 'ere stole 'im or something." Bill murmured as he untied his own bird and mounted the saddle. "Certainly puts the rest of ours t'shame though, that's for sure." Kicking his runner in the side a bit, he got it moving so that it moved out in front of the group. "Wouldn't mind taking point, sheriff, if you'd want!" the Gila monster offered, though had his own reasons for doing so.
"Certainly don't mind!" the chameleon replied enthusiastically.
-
Chip was sold faster than rattlers to a hawk, but he casually cleared his throat. "Sounds... right nice." He commented, taking hold of Monarch's reins. The bird gave him a quizzical glance, but ruffled his head feathers.
"You an' I'r gonna get along jus' fine," the ferret murmured. "Now, where's mah hat? We've got us a treasure t'find!"
-
John & Jack continued along on their wagon. Jack took a drink from the canteen next to him. "I don't like the way that wheel sounds." he said looking over at John.
"Maybe we should stop and switch it out with one of our spare wheels." John said.
"We didn't pack a jack." Jack said.
"Don't need one. I'm strong enough to lift part of the wagon. Used that as one of my early strong man stunts before I joined the Barnun's circus." He said.
"Never knew that. How did you get to be part owner?" Jack asked.
"Well, Barnum had a period where things were tight. I waived being paid and offered some of the money I had and had saved up in exchange for being part owner. After a few hard months things really started to take off. Then a year or so later Ringing offered to merge with us to form the Ringling, Barnum & Sandow. Choosing that order based on the fact Ringing had started his circus a bit before Barnum started his and I bought myself in as part owner of his circus after he had started his." John said bringing the wagon to a stop. "And the Ringing strong man liked the idea of having another strong man since he could spend more time with his family instead of just the winter months." he said as he started to get out of the wagon. "You put the wheel on and I'll keep watch while I keep the wagon lifted up."
-
Stirrup urged Nelly forwards, passing Chip as he searched for his hat. "We'll jus' see who finds that treasure..." he sneered. Nelly seemed to cower slightly as he approached Monarch, and he slowed down, bringing the lizard to a halt. Stirrup jerked his head down and prodded the bird irritably. "Whatcha doin'? Move it! Yer my ride now, an' that means yer a killer! A stone cold killer bird! Ya!" Stirrup brought his claw down in another ill-tempered prod. Jumping slightly, Nelly scurried past, moving up behind Bill as he rode out in front of the group.
-
Beans crossed her arms. "Might as well get ready m'self." She flounced out of the office, calling back as she did so. "Oy! Ferret! Yer hat's right where ya left it."
Chip raised a brow. "I been a lotta places this morning, Miss Beans," he sneered.
"It's out in th' street." he lizard sneered right back. "An' watch out, looks like some young-un's mean t'touch it."
Chip hurried out, scattering some mumbled phrases.
-
Rango kicked his bird forward, riding out with the rest of the posse now, which was mounting up and arming. "Hey Chip! You did a damn fine job back there as a deputy! You wanna hold on to that star for a bit?" Rango called back to him as he saw him fumbling in the street.
"Sheesh... guy thinks he's some sorta hero or somethin'... so whatcha gonna do if your precious Ripper's dead, eh?" Bill asked Stirrup here, smirking.
-
John & Jack and stopped their wagon. John was holding up the back of the wagon while Jack had taken off the wheel.
Jack looked it over, "Looks like we stopped in time. Looks like it would have gone a short time from now." he put the wheel aside and got a new wheel. He had just gotten it on, but had not secured it when John lowered the wagon suddenly. "I'..." He started to say he wasn't finished yet, he started to turn to John to see if he was tired or something.
"Hold the ammo belt." John said as he was looking off at something in the sky and reaching with one hand to pull out his gatling gun with a pistol grip, his other hand going on the crank.
jack wasn't sure what was going on. And this was the first time he had seen that gun up close. It looked like regular gatling gun but it had a pistol grip on the back. He used his tail to hold up the ammo belt that the gatling gun used. He then looked over where John was looking at as he saw John was holding his gatling gun up and had started to crank the crank as Jack saw he had started shooting at a hawk.
John continued cranking his gatling gun with one hand & holding pistol grip with the other, guiding it to be in line with the hawk. The ammo belt continued, with Jack holding it with his tail so it would get get caught or mess up.
Eventually the hawk fell to the ground, not moving.
"That's why I wanted to bring along the ammo belt." John said.
"That was amazing." Jack said. He waved his tail a bit since the gunsmoke was pretty thick.
"Not as accurate as one of your tail guns. Only a quarter of the shots hit it. Accurate this gun sure ain't But great for a strong man stunt, or in a pinch this. I'd have used my gatling pistol but when I saw it it was way outside the range of it." John said. He held the gun for a few seconds before he put it back under the tarp, sure the barrels had cooled enough. Then he started to gather the ammo fed belt he had used. "We'll have to refill this as soon as possible. but first get get the wheel secured, just don't take to long." John as he started to lift the wagon/cart again so Jack could secure the new wheel.
-
Stirrup turned to look at Bill, his face aghast. "Ain't gonna happen! An' if you say that again, I'll shoot ya right in yer face! Three times!" He paused and looked wistfully into the distance. "Now that y'asked though... I reckon I'd get 'er stuffed, an' turn her insides into a little cupboard. Carry her around with me, use 'er to store my drinks and money." He grimaced. "That didn't go so well las' time I tried."
After a moment, Stirrup blinked and looked back at Bill. "Where was I? Oh yeah - ain't gonna happen!" He swiveled around on Nelly to face the others. "We gettin' our asses movin' or what? My fortune ain't gonna find itself!"
-
"YOUR fortune?" Chip intoned, riding up beside the lizard. The ferret wore a snarky grin. "What's that I hear? Ya wouldn't be plannin' on betrayin' th' fair amount o' trust that gent placed on us, would ya, now?" He gripped monarch's reins tight in his paws.
"My pleasure, Sheriff," he replied with a mock sort of salute. "Think it's gotten attached t'me, anyways." he adjusted the star on his coat front, proudly.
-
Stirrup bared his teeth at Chip. "'Course not! How dare ya even suggest such a thing! The... the cheek of it! I ain't never gonna do a thing like that!" He turned to face forwards and hissed, "Not yet, leastways..." Stirrup cackled, then stopped as he realised that he'd accidentally used his inside voice on the outside. He looked back at Chip and adjusted his hat shiftily. "... Is what a less trustworthy sorta fella might'a said..." he muttered slowly, giving the ferret a reassuring nod.
-
Chip raised a brow and shrugged. It wasn't really his position to point out the faults of the posse members - after all, he was walking proof that anyone could be trusted.
And then there was the matter of the treasure...
~
Beans was back in a flash with her runner and a bag of provisions. "How long ya reckon this'll take, Sheriff?" She called over to Rango. "I ain't 'spectin' t'be gone longer'n three days. Gotta ranch t'run, y'know." On the inside, Beans was secretly pleased to be running with the boys again.