Legend of the Sierra Negra

[Pterano]

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.

[bushwacked]

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?"

[Kor]

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.

[Pterano]

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...

[bushwacked]

"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?"

[Pterano]

"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.

[StrutEggStealer]

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)

[Kor]

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.

[bushwacked]

" '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."

[Pterano]

((Anyone can play Waffles currently. ))

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.

[bushwacked]

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..."

[Kor]

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.

[StrutEggStealer]

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?"

[Pterano]

"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.

[bushwacked]

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.

[StrutEggStealer]

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.

[bushwacked]

"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.

[Kor]

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.

[StrutEggStealer]

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,"

[Pterano]

"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.