Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The West Gets Weird (Open)

"Hmph," Charlotte grunted in response to the burned man's apparent indifference. He might have been new in town, but he was certainly going to fit in well with the rest of the idiots hell-bent on proving themselves the most masculine creatures in existence. If she had a dollar for every time a man refused treatment at the risk of looking "yeller," as they so quaintly put it, she could sell her practice and retire comfortably to the South Pacific.

At least the fellow seemed willing to cooperate for the moment. "You might think pain is only temporary," she continued, taking his hand in hers and looking the burn over closely. "But back when I was in medical school, I knew a man who got scratched by an alley cat. He didn't think he needed a doctor either, right up until the gangrene set in and we had to amputate. And you know what?" The doctor reached back into her bag with her right hand and began rummaging through, still holding his hand in her left.

"Even after we had buried the hand in a pit behind the clinic, the man still insisted it was hurting him. He even came into the clinic a few times insisting his fingers were stiff, only he didn't have those fingers anymore. As far as I know, that missing hand still troubles him to this day." From her bag, she pulled out first a small jar of some cloudy, whitish paste, then a small roll of gauze. "In your case, it looks like you should be all right. It's a bad first-degree burn, but not quite as bad as a second." Charlotte dropped his hand onto her lap, then opened the jar.

A strong medicinal smell emanated out as she scooped a small amount of the paste onto her fingers. "This might sting a little bit, but it'll sterilize the area. That's the important thing," she explained, gently massaging the salve onto the burn. With the wound sterilized, she began to wrap his hand in gauze, just loosely enough to allow freedom of movement. "There you go, all set. Just make sure you keep it clean, and it should heal up in a couple of days." She snipped off the end of the gauze, then finally released his hand.

"By the way, I'm Doctor Delacroix, the town physician," Charlotte introduced, pronouncing her name in the throaty French way. "What's your name?"

Sydney quirked an eyebrow hearing the new man's response to his offer to join them. He was not sure what cats had to do with joining the men. However, with a small shrug of his shoulder's his eyes went towards the other newcomers. The first one to join them was a young woman wearing a green dress. His eye linger only for a very brief moment before returning his attention to the card game. Sydney's straight had the low card being a 5 so he won by having higher numbers.

"Good hand," Sydney said.

Sydney was content with the content and volume of his drink. There was still plenty more liquid to last a while during their games. Sydney was preparing for another game when another woman went into the saloon. More and more people were being drawn into whatever was happening within the town. The marshal kept an eye on the new woman as she looked over the new male's hand. It seemed like he had received some kind of injury before coming to Salty Peak.

A blur of moment caught his attention. The female in the green dress was dashing outside of the doors and into the streets. It was not safe for a woman to be rushing out into the night alone. Let alone with a creature on the loose. Sydney restrained himself from rolling his eyes. The marshal stood from his sear. He had no intention of letting the woman deal with whatever was making the howling sound coming from outside.

"How reckless," Sydney mumbled under his breath.

Sydney followed the woman outside of the saloon. He had briefly lost sight of her in the process. His eyes scanned the darkness and streets to find where she could have dashed off too. Sydney spotted her a short distance away. He was not familiar with skin walkers or what they were capable of. He moved slowly as he tried to see what the woman was doing with the creature.

"Is it safe?" he questioned the woman.

((Roger that, Juls.))

Faulkner rises out of his seat at Sayen’s sudden departure, leaving Chessy and Doctor Delacroix to their business. He utters a curse under his breath—after all, he hasn’t settled in or geared up for work properly.

“Hell’s gotten into folks? Lookin’ to get eaten? C’mon, Frank,” the agent orders as he scoops up his bag (a weighty looking thing!) and slings it over a shoulder. Without fully awaiting the older man’s compliance, Faulkner marches off after Sydney and Sayen.

"Thanks," the bounty hunter said to the woman, giving her a nickel as a tip for fetching the sarsaparilla. But he'd barely put the bottle to his lips when what sounded like a wolf howled and the woman ran from the saloon, followed by Sydney and then Faulkner.

Frank's brow furrowed in concern as he stood to follow, drawing his revolver from its holster as he rose, though he was careful with it, keeping his finger off the trigger, keeping it pointed at the floor as he hurried after the Agent, all the while cursing himself for rushing into a situation he knew little about.

"Keep an eye out here, huh? Make sure the doc there stays safe," he said to Bill and Dan, trusting them purely on the basis that they were cowboys.

He cast one worried glance back at the doctor and Chessy as they pushed open the swinging saloon doors. Maybe there was no reason to find the man troubling, but he couldn't shake the image of the man standing in the corner nervously, like he was waiting for something. The howl, perhaps?

As they came upon the scene only a few seconds after Sydney and spotted the bipedal wolf looking thing... it seemed clear enough what had been making the howling noises. Was the woman... helping it?

"What's it doin' here?" Frank demanded, revolver raising a little. But he didn't point it at the bipedal wolf since Sayen was in the way. He wouldn't risk accidentally shooting her. He wasn't a fan of regular wolves. And this monstrosity... well, it sure didn't look like it belonged in a place like Saltypeak.

Chessy didn´t really notice the doctor-womans hmph at him and didn´t think anything of him. He seemed pretty careless save for the fact that he seemed nervous and alert. Like he was a bit uncomfortable in this place. However, he still listened to her, when she spoke and looked at her as she took care of his injured hand, which apparantly Sydney hadn´t noticed till now. He listened to every word of her story, it was quite interesting. "I would like to have heard the cat´s defense," he mumbled, his words barely audible as he looked down. He seemed shy and sort of introvert. But he had changed ever since he left. He made a sort of hiss or growl, when she applied the paste, and frowned, but only for a moment. Then he straightened up and looked it over closely and carefully before he turned to the woman and gave her a Cheshire-cat grin. "No duty is more urgent than that of returning thanks," he said. "Delacroix," he said and spaced off a little. "What an odd name. I like it," he said quietly, but with a smile. "I am Cheshi-Chessy Hunter," he replied with an, if it were possible, an even wider smile.

Then suddenly he stopped as he heard the howling and people suddenly started leaving, scurrying out the door. The woman in green seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and it wasn´t soon after that the other mysterious and scary strangers followed her out. Something was wrong, and he could feel it. Whatever it was made his hairs stand up and he was much more rattled than before. "All is not right with the world. All is not right with the Saltypeaks," he whispered, but loud enough for the woman and the barkeep to hear.

((I hope it´s not too short))

The beast growling was the only warning she got as she turned towards the man that had followed. Brandishing the weapon, she narrowed her eyes before moving in front of the creature. Sensing it's anger, Sayen cooed softly before flicking her eyes at the other two. "Leave. You're presence is unsettling. I can handle myself."

Noticing the weapons, the creature barred its fangs as it glared from behind the woman. It was smart enough to realize they at least wouldn't attack while it was so close to her. "Put your weapons away. You're making it uneasy." Sayen flicked her eyes between the three men, keeping herself firmly planted in front of the skin walker.

She was unsure if they would listen but she didn't want the beast to attack and get killed. It may be strong but right now it was weak and she didn't think she could protect it. Her attention was pulled to a howl that sounded not terribly close but not terribly far either. The creature responded before looking back at the men and then at Sayen.

Raising to its full height is nearly 8 feet high it snarled and snapped its jaws before running off into the night. Sayen had been nervous and moved to continue blocking their line of fire. "Do not shoot! It means no harm!" Sayen huffed as she searched their faces, if someone was gonna shoot she'd make sure they hit her.

Charlotte cracked a small smile at Chessy's remark about the cat. "If you can discern why cats do anything you're a cleverer person than I am," she remarked, packing away her supplies in the black bag. Conveniently, the barkeep returned with her requested bottles, and these too she somehow managed to pack into the bag, along with who knew what other odds and ends.

The doctor was not about to leave before finishing her coffee though (God knew she needed it), and she nodded politely at her patient's introduction. "A pleasure, Mr. Hunter," Charlotte replied politely as she drained her cup. "It seems you're possessed of an interesting nomenclature yourself. Chessy...is that French?"

It was at that time the doctor became aware of the swift exodus of several patrons of the bar. She had briefly noticed Sayen running out suddenly, but Charlotte had been so engrossed in treating Mr. Hunter's burn she hadn't thought too much of it. But then marshal ran out, followed by that supposed detective fellow everyone kept whispering about, and then the mangy-looking bounty hunter, though the lattermost had the foresight to charge a pair of even scrappier looking hangdogs to keep an eye on her, of all people.

"Don't trouble yourselves gentlemen, I've got a pair of secret service fellows ensuring no mean old critters steal my ointment," she muttered sarcastically, no longer bothering to hide her eye rolls. While it was true she kept a revolver in her bag and a shotgun in her house in case of trouble, the doctor had no interest in hunting down the monsters plaguing the town. She of all people knew if she wound up dead there'd be a clear shortage of surgeons to stitch back the other poor souls mauled by the beasts.

Instead she turned her attention back to the gentleman beside her. "You're quite right, Mr. Hunter. All is not right with the world, and particularly not-right with Saltypeaks. Which begs the question: what brings you to a place like this?" Charlotte asked, tilting her head slightly as she took a closer look at Chessy's face.

Sydney had his rifle in his hands but it was not directly pointed towards the creature towering over them. With a careful hand he pointed it more towards the ground. The marshal was not going to put the weapon away entirely. He knew that the situation could change at a moment's notice. Sydney glanced to see of the others had their guns pointed towards it. It would not be long before the creature would run off into the night. His eyes went towards the woman who seemed to be defending it.

"How can you be certain?"

Sydney wanted to make sure it would not be a threat. He did not want the blood of innocents on his hands. If that creature attacked and killed the villagers he would blame himself for having let the thing escape. However, his eyes watched the woman with a hard stare. She did not seem willing to let them harm the beast. There was no telling how she would respond if they were to try and take it out.

"Did you know them?"

If the creature could be identified it would be easier to place in trust in her judgment. He wanted a way to keep the peace and protect the people. Sydney would be failing in his job as a marshal if he could not handle something as basic as this. He made no immediate moves to try and shoot the beast as it made it's way further outside of the town limits.

((Whoops, sorry for a delay; this got lost in my notifications.))

By the time the impromptu hunting party relocates Sayen and the skinwalker, Faulkner has dug a pistol out from his suit pockets. It’s not the hunting rile he’d prefer (which is tightly locked up in his luggage), but it would have to do.

He smartly keeps the weapon pointed away from Sayen and the creature—for now.

“...well now, isn’t this a sight,” the agent quietly marvels at the beast. Skinwalkers are genuinely something of a mystery to the man—their study and documentation isn’t something the Bureau has had the privilege of learning just yet.

When Charlotte made the remark that he would be a very clever person if he could discern why cats do what they do, he simply grinned from ear to ear. A wide and odd grin. "I´d like to consider myself an expert in that field," he replied proudly. And he was. Sort of. He had his own secrets that he could not share. Secrets that would explain why he was this odd and what connection he had with cats. He didn´t really give a response as to where his name came from, but simply smiled and took another sip of his tea.

The doctor-woman, Charlotte Delacroix seemed unhappy and somewhat offended, when the young fellows had told some shabby-looking guys to protect her. He determined that it was likely, because it suggested she could not take care of herself and was someone that needed to be looked after. "Well, there are many strange people in town this evening. Who is to say that someone would not try to steal your ointment? Not that they would per say, but you never know, do you? Lots of strange things are happening, things that sound stranger than stealing a doctor´s ointments," he remarked thoughtfully, his mind and focus seeming to be... elsewhere. He was odd. He was looking around, when she had asked him where he came from, which halted him to a stop. Like a clock that stopped ticking and stayed where it was. His head was turned away slightly and he was gazing off, and had turned silent. After a while he took another sip of his tea before he practically jumped out of the chair and headed for the door. "I am in need of an adventure, so I shall go see what the others are doing," he said and walked out without another word. And with that he was gone. As though he disappeared into thin air. No sight of him anywhere. He couldn´t have gone far, yet he was nowhere to be seen.

As the creature snarled and snapped, Frank instinctively brought his revolver to point at it. It towered even over the rather tall indian woman and Frank was close enough that he probably could have taken the shot without a major risk of hitting Sayen.

But at the urgency in her voice, he allowed the weapon to lower again when it ran off.

The sounds of a second one certainly didn't help matters.

"What are they doin' here?!" he added his own question to the barrage already directed at Sayen, far from convinced by her statement that it meant no harm.

Keeping a glare on the men, she didn't visibly relax until the beast was some distance away. However, her grip on the metal piece stayed firm, a slight tremor of annoyance in her voice as she answered their questions.

"No, I know of them. My people call them skinwalkers, I do not know if your people have a name for them. It is probably a mated pair, the male was injured." Looking away the piece of metal in her hand fully now, she noticed tribal runes carved into the metal which shone with a silvery light.

"For them to have moved so close to a human settlement means there's something worse out there. They were likely driven from their home and don't you worry none, if they had wanted to kill us your weapons would have been useless." Sayen wasn't about to reveal anymore about them anyway, they were rare enough that she'd never thought she'd encounter one.

Turning in the direction it ran off, she wondered what was bad enough to drive them this far towards a human settlement. Pursing her lips, Sayen returned her attention to the gathering of men. "Regardless, the people of the town are going to talk about this." Gesturing to the three of them, she carefully crossed her arms. "So how should I say I serviced the three of you? Most folk won't consider the supernatural. They are blind to it."

Giving a half smirk while it dawned on them, Sayen had to admit it was comical to her. While she was used to whispers and dirty looks about her profession and race, Sayen doubted these white men had that luxury. "Or perhaps chasing after a whore is something you do regularly. Anyway, gentlemen, see you back in town."

With a slight flourish, she gave an exaggerated curtsey before beginning to walk back. The land felt good under get bare feet and as she walked back, Sayen studied the piece of a dagger, at least that's what she surmised it used to be. The symbols seemed familiar but perhaps a different tribe? It would require digging into but the 'madame' probably wasn't going to let Sayen out of her sight got awhile now. Quitting was an option, she could sell the horses, well all but one, and make a tidy profit.

Looking at the saloon as she approached, Sayen grabbed the hated heels as the madame came out frothing. Sayen didn't hear a word that was said as she focused on the level of red she had turned and the way her eyes bulged. Unattractive. Of course, the spittle was worse. Wiping some from her cheek, Sayen hadn't noticed the hand until it was too late. Sayen's head snapped to the right as her cheek reddened from the sting.

Anger bloomed in Sayen's gut, her grip on the shoes turned her knuckles white. "I suggest you leave while you can." The madame didn't seem bothered but regardless turned on heel and walked away spouting nonsense and the like. Closing her eyes, Sayen breathed to try and reign in her anger knowing reacting in away way would give their baseless accusations truth. Staying outside, she leaned against the wood trying to remain calm.

As she listened to Mr. Hunter's theories about possible ointment thieves, Charlotte's expression grew more and more skeptical. Was the fellow mad? Or had he simply gotten his hands on some of the natives' peyote? She might have suspected opium, but he did seem quite alert, if not altogether present mentally. And before she could say so much as a fare-thee-well, he was not there physically either. Cyncism was quickly replaced with shock, and a small shiver down the doctor's back at the realization that the odd fellow might not have been of a particularly human persuasion.

It seemed like an omen to depart the saloon regardless. After paying the barkeep for her supplies, Charlotte lowered herself from the stool and was about to make for the door when suddenly the madam from upstairs stormed through the barroom like a woman possessed, her unpleasant face full of rage at some poor unsuspecting victim. When she burst through the saloon doors the doctor hoped she would just keep going out of the town entirely, and possibly into the belly of one of the more hungry beasts of the surrounding country. Dr. Delacroix could sympathize with the working girls; there were only so many lines of work available to women, and one needed to do what one must in order to survive. But the world would do quite well without pimps and madams in her opinion, and certainly without the misery they caused.

Unfortunately, it seemed this particular panderess was intent on causing misery just outside the door. From the sound of it, the object of her ire was one of the saloon girls, and Charlotte recalled how the Mapuche woman had fled not so long ago. No doubt her so-called employer wasn't pleased at her absence, and the doctor felt a bit of alarm when the madam returned alone. Good God, she wouldn't harm the woman, would she? the doctor wondered, gathering her belongings and shooting a nasty look at the old shrew as she moved towards the door. It seemed unlikely, but then again the harpy was drunk half the time.

As the doctor had hoped, she found Sayen still lingering outside the saloon door. Although she did not wish to insult the woman or come off as condescending, she couldn't help but notice her heightened state of emotions. "Good evening, Miss. Out for a bit of air?" she said gently, in the same tones she would use when addressing any other woman in town. "I hope that old harridan--" Charlotte inclined her head in the direction of the bar, and allowed a small smile to crack across her lips. "Isn't giving you too much trouble. She's a horrid woman. I don't know why she hasn't been run out of town yet."

Sydney narrowed his eyes lightly hearing her explanation. He was not sure if he believed there was something worse out there than the creature they just saw. However, his experience with the supernatural had been limited to the creature he just saw. The word echoed through his mind several times as he committed it to memory. It was hard to believe there was more out there that was a greater threat to their people than humans. However, he was learning just how dangerous the world could be.

He did not care what she said in regards to why they followed her. As a Marshal he often followed after pleasure workers. They often held valuable information or were close to someone he was tracking. It was part of his job to also protect women like her from ravenous or abusive men. People would believe what they wanted to regardless of the facts. He gave a shake of his head. His eyes watched as Sayen walked back towards the tavern.

"Do we follow it?" Sydney asked the two gentlemen who had remained with him.

Sydney was not sure if following the beast was the best course of action or not. However, he would pursue the skinwalker if the other deemed it to be a threat to the safety of Saltypeak.

Faulkner twists his lips into a thin line of displeasure and reholsters his weapon. He watches after the fleeing skinwalker for a few moments longer before the woman’s comments occupy his thoughts.

“There’s always a bigger fish,” the agent remarks cooly, like a man who’s seen the big ones with his own eyes. He steps aside to let Sayen pass, eyeing her next. His expression softens into weariness. Ugh. Ignorance. The bane of survival, he notes privately.

“You spin whatever story you want,” Faulkner calls after Sayen, “it’s just a matter of time before one bad overrun opens a town’s eyes.” He starts a slow walk after her, back in the direction of the town.

With a purposeful readjustment of his bag, he calls back to Frank and Sydney: “If it’s all the same to you, gentlemen, I haven’t even settled in properly. I can go hunting another time.”

Keeping her eyes closed, Sayen barely heard the rustle of skirts telling she had company. Leaning against the building, Sayen inhaled sharply before opening her eyes with a wry grin on her face. "Hmmm probably because she uses the whores as bargainin' chips."

Studying the doctor, Sayen stood up and looked inside. "I do not belong and she reinforces that notion." Returning her gaze to the doctor, Sayen smiled faintly. "I am Sayen. I do not think I have seen you yet." Sayen touched her own forehead with her fingertips before lowering her hand in greeting.

"I do thank you for being...tactful. Most would not spare a second thought for my kind." Turning her gaze outwards she wondered what was taking the men so long considering they had rushed off when they thought there was immediate danger.

Cheshire Hunter was used to people assuming he was on some sort of opium, though he rarely ever addressed it. Almost as though he did not care, what other people thought of him. But where was he now? He had seemingly vanished into thin air, gone as fast as he came and without a word or a trace. No footprints leading away from the saloon, none at all. He was sitting behind a barrel at the corner of a building, right next to the weird collection of strangers that had come into town earlier today. He´d been eavesdropping and had seen the skinwalker himself and he could´ve sworn that it looked straight at him at one point or that it knew he was there. The others seemed oblivious though, caught up in conversation about what to do next.

If they looked his way they would only see a pair of green eyes and nothing else. The rest of him was invisible and he squatted down so they wouldn´t notice him. He thought things over. A skinwalker. And apparently there was something worse out there. Just his luck. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mumbled not really knowing what else to say.

Frank walks back to town, but rather than return to the saloon, he goes to the stable, saddles his horse, and heads out of Saltypeak.



((Need to drop out, folks. Apologies))