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[Dwarmin]

Immanuel approaches boldly, looking for answers. The tiny hailstones make a hollow, skeletal rattling noise as they strike the roof of the building. He can't say why, but it's oddly unnerving.

The building is unremarkable, close up-there are certainly no signs, secret or otherwise. It's unadorned. The environs are meticulously free of any sort of litter. It's construction is old and sturdy, perhaps built a decade or more ago-it shows no outward signs of anything, but neglect. Old, splintered clapboard walls painted an earthy red-brown to blend into the land, and the shadows of the leafy trees. The closed doors are double wide, fit enough for two horses to stand side by side-and a hay chute indicates it was indeed some sort of stable. An odd place for it, maybe. Not much rich grazing land around here, that's more up North.

[Harry Baldman]

Action: Immanuel Jade knocks on the door in an arrhythmic, yet painstakingly deliberate fashion. Perhaps a signal of some kind?

[Dwarmin]

Thunk, thunk, thunk...thunk.

His painstaking knock elicits no answer from inside.

[Harry Baldman]

Silence implies consent.

Action: Immanuel Jade opens the door to behold the horrors that await within.

[Dwarmin]

Immanuel opens the doors recklessly, perhaps only realizing a moment too late they open in finely greased hinges with no hint of resistance.

He immediately sees the three men and one women armed with drawn pistols, pointing them in his general direction. One of them has a double barrel Dragon-Snout* in his long hands. It's clear you woke them up by intruding on their hideout(?), as many are in a state of half dress, with the look of having hurriedly pulled on pants and coats-and, they don't look very happy. They are certainly better dressed than the bandits you met before...yet, somehow you feel they are not much different. They have an air of thieves-people estimating the value of a thing, versus the violent effort they will have to take to get it. In this case, the thing they are measuring is you.

The men on the far left, an older man-with a well groomed, long brown hair under a tan and grey, square billed cap (Immanuel notes with detached curiosity it's an Imperial Artillerists cap), and a well polished set of eyeglasses-motions for you to step inside with the snout of his revolver. Politely.

"Well, you should have kept walking, mister.

No fast moves. Step on inside out of the rain...and throw any guns you have to the ground. Knives too."

*Dragonsnouts are similar to the Blunderbuss in design, though Imperial Variants are too bulky to be wielded in anything less than two very strong hands. Though outdated in design, they are still lethal at extremely close range, and found widely across the Far West. Tend to be used by those without much experience in firearms. Of course, they don't exactly need it, do they?

[Harry Baldman]

"Are you afraid of just one man with a matchbox?" Immanuel Jade asks with a slightly disappointed expression. "Fear not, I cannot harm you if you do not harm me first."

Action: present the Saltbox to these distinguished ladies and gentlemen.

[Dwarmin]

"You know, we're not playing games here. How do we know you're not some kind of murderer? *chuckle* Always pays to be safe. Jona, get it from him, will you?" The 'leader' says, with a shrug.

The man on the far right, a skinny fellow with a nervous disposition, creeps forward to take your gun.

[GiglameshDespair]

The bard spoke calmly - seemingly to the one who challenged her, but her voice projected over the sound of the storm.

"We are each our own. He was not of us, as we are not of him. Do not blame us for the wickedness of others.

As for I, I have made a trade, and intend to honour it. Will you?"

[Dwarmin]

"...We did not think the Orinost would lie. So many have lied to us." He says, bitterly. "You offer peace and bring harm. A man is not hurt less if you did not intend it. You did not intend it. You brought him here. You may stay, and you now owe a debt. We cannot compel you to pay what you owe. You do not have to say. This is fair."

The Horsefolk sags, shaking his head.

"Why do such a thing. It was not right. That man you brought had a hand of white fire. He will not be here for very long...he needed to know."

[GiglameshDespair]

Click!
And she had on a mask of a frown, golden brows drawn down in an expression of annoyance. She shook her head.

"I did not lie. I offered nothing but a trade. Each of us stands alone in our actions - we traded individually and acted individually, so we will not owe as one for the actions of a viper."

[Dwarmin]

He seems to be unable or unwilling to argue with you.

"You are not wrong...you wish for us to suffer, we will suffer you to stay a night. Orinost that was. We pay our debts." He says, gingerly stepping aside. "This is a bad night. Storm will be worse soon. Everyone. Go back to sleep." He announces with finality.

And, so it is.

[Harry Baldman]

"You know, we're not playing games here. How do we know you're not some kind of murderer? *chuckle* Always pays to be safe. Jona, get it from him, will you?" The 'leader' says, with a shrug.

The man on the far right, a skinny fellow with a nervous disposition, creeps forward to take your gun.

Immanuel Jade proffers the gun with a stiff, deliberate movement, blinking a little more rapidly than usual.

"Why would someone oil the door? Imagine if I had not knocked as a polite traveler does," he mentions. "Some of you might not have had time to make yourselves decent."

Action: Immanuel Jade grants his gun to Mr. Jona.

[Dwarmin]

"To be honest, mister, we don't use the 'front porch' very often. The whole thing is...well, like stage props, right? Looks fake from the outside...ah, but I've said too much."

Jona snatches the gun and tucks it in his belt.

"Anyway, what possessed you to be out on such a night?" He continues. "You don't look like a marshal. A bandit would probably be better armed."

"Maybe he's a rebel?" The woman says, dryly. She's very young-a woman barely out of her teens, with short, spiky red hair and an intense green eyed gaze. Yet, she seems to know how to use that gun of hers well enough, and keeps it trained with a steady hand, on Immanuel's belly.

"Real funny, Mags. Answer, mister. We have all night-but, you certainly don't."

[Harry Baldman]

"I am an undesirable," Immanuel Jade explains placidly. "I would have spent the night at the horsefolk camp nearby, but they proved to be... deficient, and also untruthful, and I took a great deal from their spokeshorseperson by mistaken assumption and unfortunate accident."

"Put simply, I am Immanuel Jade," the Jade bows shallowly, keeping a set of dead eyes open and looking squarely at the presumable deserter man. "And I am looking for a place to rest and think. Your business is none of my business."

[Dwarmin]

"A Jade. Figures. You reckon anyone would miss you?" He asks sarcastically.