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[lawastooshort]

Grygor Bryttviev sat on the ground leaning against a stack of hay bales sharpening a large knife. He didn't have a great deal of belongings to get ready; he'd come out to the town stone broke a few months ago and had found work at Dryman's not long after. He was on the run, in his own way, and had almost nothing. He told Dryman he had a few woodworking skills - his father had been a carpenter, it was true - and offered to work for so little the rancher could barely refuse to take him on: he certainly needed a spare hand or two and wasn't going to ask too many questions if he seemed like an honest man. Grygor was, no matter what had happened in his past, and he was thankful to Dryman for giving him a chance, however small.

[Dwarmin]

Reverend Greenmore was a few miles away-overseeing a funeral for a young boy that had died in a barn fire.

"Yes'm, there's a good place waiting for all of us. As long as you hold him dear to your heart, ne'er shall he perish..."

It was a solemn task, but he could only hope his words and actions would help. He checked the time. He wouldn't dare rush it, but the caravan was moving soon...Dryman wasn't terribly faithful in anything but the value of money, but Greenmoore didn't mind. Money was money...and Blacktree Trail was bound to be a worthy test.

He remembered the interview-short though it was-he was good at Wagoneerin', he says. True enough...travelling was tough, and he had done plenty of it on wagon, horse and foot.

For his *other* skills, Reverend Greenmoore had merely said he "had a little skill game shootin' and huntin'." He didn't elaborate further than that. That was his old life. He has not put away the gun-he had placed it to the side, and taken up the bible.

Still, that bad hearted boy who called himself "Rattlesnake Jack" to his enemies and "Guitaro" to his friends was not entirely dead. There were Demons aplenty, and they never let Greenmoore forget the things he done.

As usual, The Reverend hit the road as fast as he could to get to Drymans not long after-he had to keep moving you see-couldn't stop too long. No sirree.

[scriver]

And long awaited! I'll post when I'm back at my computer later tonight. Then we kill some Eldricht Horrors!

[micelus]

Horses comforted Alonzo, they reminded him of his family...before the raiders came. He was in Dryman's stables, tending the horses as he did everyday since he had arrived. He gave them all names. The one with the dark spots on its rump was John. The dark stallion was Rivera, the small, shy, and speedy gelding was Smith. He went up to the horses and tended to them. He checked the for disease, cleaned them of dirt and scraps and fed them their meals. Sometimes he would give them an apple or a little sugar, just to see their reactions. It reminded him of his sister's love for apples....When he had groomed all the horses, he lied down in a hayloft and just thought about where he would go next after this job was done.

(Best I could do while extremely tired.)

[SeriousConcentrate]

SS13?

Emma finished drying the dishes from breakfast and put them away. Wish I knew more 'bout fixin' things, she thought, looking out one of the cracked windows. She had been brought up to be a proper lady and that sort of thing was 'a man's job.' If she'd had her choice, though, she would have been proficient with a hammer and nails rather than a needle and thread. She dried her hands off on her jeans and as she watched the men loading the wagons. On the other hand, I'm glad I'm well outta that, she thought, noticing one particular crate take two men to lift, visibly straining the whole time. Grumble as much as she liked, being a woman meant she got all the easy work, and most of the time that suited her fine.

She exited the main house and went to the bunkhouse to get her belongings, mainly just her rifle, her knife, and a backpack containing some miscellaneous supplies for the road. The rifle went into some loops designed for it on the backpack, the backpack went onto her back, and the knife was put in the sheath on her belt. "Mornin'," she said to Grygor with a tip of her hat as she passed him on the way back to the main house. She hooked her thumbs in her belt and leaned on the wall near Amos Dryman in time to hear Murray mention Merrick. That's a snake in the grass if ever there was one, she thought. In her opinion Alistair even looked like a snake. It was probably the coldness of his eyes.

"Thanks for lettin' me come along, Mr. Dryman," she said. She'd worked there for some time but she had expected him to tell her to stay behind with his wife when the drive started. She could understand him not wanting another mouth to feed or body to look after on the trail... but on the other hand she was the best cook on the ranch by a wide margin, and her argument for going ('you wanna eat bad cookin' the whole time, or my cookin'?') had managed to sway him in the end. Truth be told she probably wouldn't have minded too much staying on the ranch with Mrs. Dryman and looking after things, but she was bored and wanted to come along simply for the adventure of it. Even if no one had ever come back from the forest they planned on going through. Actually, that was part of the fun; she'd hate herself forever if she sat out at home while the rest of these yahoos working for Amos got a reputation for being the first to make it through.

"What's the plan for the day?" she asked, turning her attention back to Mr. Dryman.

[micelus]

SS13?

Space Station 13?

[Firelordsky]

As far as Keethan knew this was a new life for himself and he didn't want to ruin it by thinking of his past lives of tragedy, so he just stayed silent and loaded up the wagons.

[Tarran]

No action.

Sorry, I'm tired and I've got a headache, so nothing for now.

[Zako]

Jack sighed as he finished tying the last bandage around the man's crushed hand he had just saved.

"Done. An' don't you do it again, or next time you might not be so lucky to have someon' like me around to fix it up, y'hear?"

Shooing the ranchand away, Jack straightened and stretched his back, rubbing it absently. Doing long surgeries always gave him a cramp in his back if he stayed in one position for too long. He scratched his stubble absently, looking over to the bags containing his personal supplies and the medical equipment he had packed for the journey on Blacktree trail. He wasn't sure what they would find or what he would have to fix, so he packed pretty much everything. He wasn't overly worried about the state of affairs at the ranch, a man of his skills is almost always wanted, but the recent actions of that other rancher was very worrying. He could do nothing but worry a hole in his boots from pacing back and forth over the horrors he imagined the children suffered in that run down orphanage, the poor little ones could be walking on pointed nails everyday and he could do nothing!

"A sad state of affairs to be sure..."

Rolling his shoulders, he walked over and retrieved his revolver and gunbelt, strapping it on and holstering the weapon it after checking it was loaded. He had learned to look after himself on the road, and it didn't hurt to be careful these days. After taking off his apron and hanging it up on the hook by the door after swapping it for his hat, he walked outside to check on the wagon loading, just to make sure noone had done anything stupid and got themselves hurt or someone else for that matter.

[scriver]

Looking up towards the ranch from where he stood on among the wagons, Amos sighed heavily. It was his father and grandfather who first came to this place, and together they had invested three generation's worth of sweat and care to make this a home. He wondered if it would still be here when they came home. As Merrick had been feeling more secure of his position, his actions - or at least those of his henchmen - had become increasingly overt and violent, and Amos feared there would be nothing left but smouldering ruins when they returned. He did not want to leave, especially on such a dangerous trek as this, but he had no choice. It was either this or despair, and if it was one thing said about the Drymans, it was that they weren't the kind to go down without a fight.

As Ezhno approached, Amos removed his hat and scratched his balding head. "Good, then we can leave as soon as the rest are done." He reached into his shirt pocket for his watch so he could avoid looking at the Indian, but stopped as Murray walked up. "I wish I could say there was no need to worry. Look after the place, Brownsen. We'll be turning back as soon as we can." Hopefully, he added to himself, with everyone still in one piece.

Overcoming his wish to check the wagons one last time to see if they had packed everything, Amos walked over to his horse and sat up. "If we stay any longer, the day's bound run out before we get anywhere. Let's get these wagons on the road."

[Talarion]

Check gear/supplies, make sure everything is already there.

Sorry, no RP writing from me today.

[TolyK]

*flicks up hat*
So, this is the group we've got? Nowan thought. Well, at least it's better than nothing, and ol' Tarrin's here, won't be the ol' salt n' vinegar...
"So, this is what we have? Hope I won't 'ave to use my bullets much, don't want a repeat of January 8th do we?"

[Tarran]

*flicks up hat*
So, this is the group we've got? Nowan thought. Well, at least it's better than nothing, and ol' Terrin's here, won't be the ol' salt n' vinegar...
"So, this is what we have? Hope I won't 'ave to use my bullets much, don't want a repeat of January 8th do we?"

Argh...

[TolyK]

... and yeah, I really have to remember to spell his name right...

[lawastooshort]

Grygor got up from his sharpening, sheathed his knives, and walked over to Dryman.

"I'm ready to go when you are Mr Dryman. I think most everything's ready. We'd best get going before the day gets too advanced, no? No point worrying and worrying, the boys have packed best they can I reckon."