Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[hector13]

"Ice sculptures?" Cormac said absently, a grin beginning to form on his face. "I guess there was one old coot in town, name of Ol' Roik, liked to sculpt ice. Always thought there was something wrong with him, 'cause he had to take his gloves off to get things the way he liked 'em. Got frostbite and lost a few fingers, but that didn't stop 'im. Anyway, he was always tellin' some non-sense story about the perfect piece of ice or somethin', 'cause his carvin's always had to be bigger and better than the one before, you know? Yeah, they found him froze to death in the wilderness, tied to a massive piece of ice he was tryin' ta haul back." he nodded to himself, remembering how impressive it was. "Man got that block quite far before he fell, at least judgin' by the trail the snow hadn't filled in yet. That kinda strength could do you good out here. I guess that's why the other townsfolk never tried to stop 'im. He was useful when he wasn't bein' stupid."

[Dwarmin]

"...I guess that's how some people become legends. Being stupid, that is." Fiona said thoughtfully, looking out at the snow again. She turned back to Cormac, mismatched hair flipping about. "It's unfortunate he died, of course-but I guess the best one can hope for is for people to tell stories about them after they're gone...right?

But enough of such dreary subjects. What business brings you out here, Mr. Cormac? For me-I've heard there's a saloon in Stalwart that could use a new cook, and I believe I'm the best qualified for the job. The Rime needs new cooks like it needs more sunlight and flowers, in my opinion! No offense, but you folk only seem to have one recipe for jerky-too little salt, and too much salt." She said, with a sort of twinkling laughter.

"And if that doesn't work out-or it works out too well-there's a lot of excitement going on, and I wouldn't mind being a part of it." She said, eyes sparkling with youthful (i.e, foolish) wanderlust. She was still a lady, but she was no longer a lady of means, after all.

[Stirk]

"Stalwart's excitement ain't the type for greenhorns, ma'm" states the young gun, while staring at the cook's oddly appropriately colored hair. "Bandits are nasty pieces of work. They'll cut you open as easy as you cut a hunk of meat. Ain't the kind to show mercy to civvies. Make one wrong move, even just watching the fight, and "

He then finger guns into the sky.

"Best stay out of it, or the story they'll be tellin' 'bout will be a short one. Ain't my life, but I'd hate to see someone go belly-up their first steps into the Rime."

[Dwarmin]

"I'll make sure to stay out of the way. I don't even own a gun. Not sure what good I'd be in a fight...though, a fellow did try to rob me when we stopped over in Marrow. 'Train Passenger Tax' he said! Psh. I already paid my tax*. And his train passenger inspection badge was clearly a fake! I had to hit him over the head with a frying pan, and he ran away. I'm guessing he wasn't very committed to his job..." She mused. "But, you clearly know your business, sir. We haven't been introduced, but I'm guessing you're a bandit hunter, maybe some sort of lawman? Or do you just have to deal with bandits in your line of work?" She inquired, curious, actually ignorant of the fact that everyone in this passenger area had a gun except for her.

*There is no such thing as a train passenger tax

[Stirk]

"I'll make sure to stay out of the way. I don't even own a gun. Not sure what good I'd be in a fight...though, a fellow did try to rob me when we stopped over in Marrow. 'Train Passenger Tax' he said! Psh. I already paid my tax*. And his train passenger inspection badge was clearly a fake! I had to hit him over the head with a frying pan, and he ran away. I'm guessing he wasn't very committed to his job..." She mused. "But, you clearly know your business, sir. We haven't been introduced, but I'm guessing you're a bandit hunter, maybe some sort of lawman? Or do you just have to deal with bandits in your line of work?" She inquired, curious, actually ignorant of the fact that everyone in this passenger area had a gun except for her.

*There is no such thing as a train passenger tax

"Somethin' like 'all of the above'. I kill things that need killing, sometimes gettin' paid to do it. Don't carry a badge or anything fancy like that, but haven't gotten any complaints yet. The mayor called me in to help deal with the local problems. They call me Frostbite, or Ron McCarthy if that gets confusing."

[Dwarmin]

"Nice to meet you, Fros..er, Mr. McCarthy. Back where I worked in Sweetwater, my friends called me Fry. On account of being a cracking fine cook, and uh, being short. Well, I'm sure if any bandits show up, you'll protect me." She stated, as if there were merely a fact. "And I can help you with...well, anything, really. I can at least make you sure you have a good meal when you stop in at the saloon after a hard days bandit hunting." She said warmly, following his eyes...up to...her hair? Oh well...

"Huh, the hair? What a trainwreck, right?" Fiona joked, tempting fate quite harshly. She motioned to it with a sweeping motion of her off-hand, nudging Ulien in the side with her elbow. "You can tell! My nature is indecisive. I can't decide if I should keep up the Vigor-I'm not sure if I could afford it anymore, or if they sell it all the way out here-or just let it fade all the way. So it looks a bit like a mulch pile." She said, with a slightly embarrassed smile.

The friendly old man who had run the tavern in Sweetwater had described her hair in exactly this manner, and she thought it fit.

[Stirk]

"Fry...Oh, like smallfry. I geddit. Ain't mulchpiles brown though? Well, we don't see much green out here. Especially not on people's heads. Not many folk care for fancy hairdos this far out. Might try talking with some of them Mer though. I heard rumor some of those guys paint themselves up for war, usually on their face and body instead of their hair though. Other people say that ain't paint, just part of their bodies, so you might be out of luck there too. Not sure how much of that is true in the first place."

[Dwarmin]

"Oh, well, this isn't paint...it's an alchemy...you know, you just drink it, and after a few days later it turns your hair to say, summer or winter colors. It was a pretty popular Vigor this season in Londinium, and that means of course everyone who was anyone in Camelon needed to have it too...maybe I could consider dyeing..." Fio said (unintentionally fatalistically) with a sniff, thinking about how she wasn't in Camelon anymore. Did fashion really matter? She thought, bumping Ulien with her elbow. "Anyway, I've never actually met a Mer. You hear the most awful stories in the copper Dreadfuls-about how they can talk to fish, eat sailors, weave human bones into their clothing, and so on. Or their maidens lure men into frigid water to drown them with their songs. But, I suppose there's a lot of people that don't know nothing much about them." She said thoughtfully.

[hector13]

"...I guess that's how some people become legends. Being stupid, that is." Fiona said thoughtfully, looking out at the snow again. She turned back to Cormac, mismatched hair flipping about. "It's unfortunate he died, of course-but I guess the best one can hope for is for people to tell stories about them after they're gone...right?

But enough of such dreary subjects. What business brings you out here, Mr. Cormac? For me-I've heard there's a saloon in Stalwart that could use a new cook, and I believe I'm the best qualified for the job. The Rime needs new cooks like it needs more sunlight and flowers, in my opinion! No offense, but you folk only seem to have one recipe for jerky-too little salt, and too much salt." She said, with a sort of twinkling laughter.

"And if that doesn't work out-or it works out too well-there's a lot of excitement going on, and I wouldn't mind being a part of it." She said, eyes sparkling with youthful (i.e, foolish) wanderlust. She was still a lady, but she was no longer a lady of means, after all.

Cormac shrugs and gazed out the window for a moment. Frostbite interjected, so Cormac followed on from that, avoiding the awkwardness of having to explain his own situation.

“Where there’s bandits, there’s work.”

[Egan_BW]

"Not the kind of work I like, to be honest." Said Ulien, whose ribs are suddenly quite sore.

[Digital Hellhound]

Ulien

Size up the other inhabitants of the cabin. Excepting the Inner woman, none of them seem particularly like trustworthy sorts. Especially not the "gentleman" in the croc leather shoes.

[Wits DC10: 11+3=14, 1 DoS]

Ulien watches the others in the cabin warily. The two young men in fur clothes - Hess and Frostbite - have a dangerous air about them. She doesn't doubt that they're experienced killers. As for trustworthy... no-one who is so at ease with a gun can be entirely safe to turn your back on. There's something to Hess that makes her a little anxious - maybe the fast way he took in everyone's luggage and weapons when he entered. Caution, curiosity, or something else?

The one who introduced himself as Sir Rimelight looks like some wild caricature of a gentleman. There's an evident hunger to him, something lurking behind those calm eyes. Definitely dangerous. She can't say about trustworthy. At the least, he has good manners.

The gentleman in the corner is hard to read. He seems perfectly content and at ease reading his newspaper. That kind of calm, feigned or not, usually speaks of confidence and power. That he has a bodyguard with him strengthens that impression. Is his indifference towards his fellow passengers arrogance or callousness, or simply a stiff sort of politeness?

The Inner girl, at the least, doesn't look too dangerous. Ulien just wish she wouldn't keep caving her ribs in with her elbow.

***

Sir Rimelight

He turned instead to the gentleman with the bodyguard, nodding first to the vigilant companion and then focusing on the more refined member.

"Pardon, sir, but I do believe you have the look of an enterprising gentleman about you. Sir Rimelight, if you please."

He extended a hand for the man to shake.

The gentleman lets Sir Rimelight's hand remain in the air for a drawn-out moment. His eyes appraise the Croc over the edge of his newspaper. The man proves evidently satisfactory, as he puts the paper down and shakes Sir Rimelight's hand with a sharp smile on his rugged features.

'You've got that right, sir,' he says. 'Jackson Stern, at your service. Do you trade, sir? Do you trade?'

[Learning DC10: 6+1=7/5+5=10/6+3=9/16+2=18/12+1=13]

Sir Rimelight recognizes the name. 'Baron Stern' is a prominent rancher in these parts. He doesn't lack in either wealth or influence in the big towns. He's known for being a harsh, ruthless businessman and a demanding employer. One reason why union representatives don't tend to come to the Rime is the lethal hostility awaiting them at the hands of Stern's men.

A faint glimmer of recognition also come to Ulien, Hess, and Frostbite. Some sort of rancher, grown wealthy from the cattle trade?

***

[Egan_BW]

Dangerous, dangerous, dangerous, paid-to-be dangerous, a businessman (most dangerous of all), and some... cook? I regret checking, this isn't likely to calm my nerves at all.
I would try to relax, but that's been what I've been trying this whole time. Try to block the elbow of doom, at least.

[Dwarmin]

"Not the kind of work I like, to be honest." Said Ulien, whose ribs are suddenly quite sore.

"What line of work are you in?" Fiona said, pivoting the conversation to Ulien. She noticed the poor woman seemed to be having some sort of stomach distress.

[IronyOwl]

Rimelight inclined his head with a smile.

"I like to consider myself a man of opportunity, good sir. Alas, I tend to find that vigorously resolving disputes is by far my most reliable form of enterprise. I understand you are neither foreign nor limited to such endeavors."

[Egan_BW]

"Let's no with 'unemployed' for now. Though I am supposed to shoot at any bandits who try robbing the train, so you could say that I have some work, just not the kind that I like."