Grand Theft Horse - (Old West Comedy / Dead / IC)

[The republic ofTexas and northern Mexico]

Juan swayne, when riding his horse into town started thinking about his goals for his stay in town. He has plenty of them, killing everyone his boss wants him to... when he gets a boss, stealing 5000 head, make as much money as possible and spend some time with plenty of dance hall girls. He then thought to himself, “the las ons impossible I wall forget bout it”

[Barapam]

Charlotte, who was walking towards her apartment, stared at the strange man for a moment. She could tell he was either Chinese or...Korean? She didn't quite know, but nor did she want to find out. Having just stalked the men at the saloon, she walked up to the man. "Excuse me, but could you please step aside, I must get upstairs to my apartment, and I don't take too kindly to snarky bastard men from China standing in my way!" she said, clutching the Colt 45 that was tucked into her corset.

... and to further brighten his day, another charming belle arrived to engage the Oriental gentleman in conversation. Since she asked him so nicely, Yang replied her equally politely.

"What's wrong with you, woman!? There's enough space to go around!" he said, gesturing at all the enoughy space around them. "But oh no, you Yankees want aaall the land in the world for yourselves! The concession in Shanghai isn't enough, now you want even the sand under every honest, law-abiding, own-business-minding Chinaman's feet!? For Christ's sake, what's next, not letting us keep Tibet!?"

This time, he took it very personally.

[Kallidrus]

Charlotte, who was walking towards her apartment, stared at the strange man for a moment. She could tell he was either Chinese or...Korean? She didn't quite know, but nor did she want to find out. Having just stalked the men at the saloon, she walked up to the man. "Excuse me, but could you please step aside, I must get upstairs to my apartment, and I don't take too kindly to snarky bastard men from China standing in my way!" she said, clutching the Colt 45 that was tucked into her corset.

... and to further brighten his day, another charming belle arrived to engage the Oriental gentleman in conversation. Since she asked him so nicely, Yang replied her equally politely.

"What's wrong with you, woman!? There's enough space to go around!" he said, gesturing at all the enoughy space around them. "But oh no, you Yankees want aaall the land in the world for yourselves! The concession in Shanghai isn't enough, now you want even the sand under every honest, law-abiding, own-business-minding Chinaman's feet!? For Christ's sake, what's next, not letting us keep Tibet!?"

This time, he took it very personally.

"Excuse me, do you not know how to treat a proper American woman? Maybe in China the men are just as dirty to their women as you just were to me but I doubt that!" she exclaimed, reaching into her *cough cough* corset to pull out her revolver. "Mosey on along or I'll do to you what I did to..." she stepped closer and whispered "To several other lucky fellows".

[American Pere Housh]

.25 miles outside East Zilch,Texas

Troy is found slowly riding his black Apaloosa named Asoka towards East Zilch. He approaches the sign that welcomes people to East Zilch and looks at it. Troy studies the sign for 5 minutes before shrugging his broad shoulders and continues into town. He guides his horse to the front of the saloon then climbs off Asoka and ties her rein to the hitching post. Troy walks into the saloon and scans the room looking for any threats. Seeing none, he walks up to the bar and asks the bartender in a slight southern accent, "Ma'am, a beer if you would please kindly."

[Democratic Republic of Eiria]

Doctor Travaux scratched his chin, thinking. "Le sang du Diable, eh? I'll take a glass, why not."I feel Adventurous today, this isn't likely going to end well, but screw responsibilities, right? "I guess my arrival is opportune then, if you guys have no doctor. Spent a week getting my new clinic built, but I think it should be up and running in no time. Plus I've studied much modern medicine, and even medicine that's.... How do you say it.... Theoretical? There's a French Scientist named Louis Pasteur who has done several experiments, trying to pinpoint the source of illness. It's fascinating."

He then went silent, realizing he had gone off on a tangent and that Miss Stein may not necessarily be interested in this subject, or that her new doctor is a fan of theoretical medicine. "Anyway, I'm glad to finally have my own practice, and to help anyone out here who needs it. Plus, I get to do my own research on medicine for a change." He cleared his throat, getting ready to try the drink Sarah was pouring. "I just needed a change, you know?".

Matt talked a bit about boring medicine. It made sense that he was delaying his try of the Devil's Blood, so Sarah poured the drink as slowly as possible. She was usually known as the fastest pour in the West, though.

Sarah Stein did catch the last bit of Matt's monologue. She related to that. "I feel you," Miss Stein said. Sarah did not tell Matt how she came to the west, though. You told the bartender your troubles, never vice versa.

Sarah finished pouring the Devil's Blood. The effects were different for every person, but they were always hilarious. "Here you go, Monsieur." Here's the doom to your reputation. Sarah remembered when she had first tried her own drink. She had acted like a total rodeo clown. Sarah braced herself for what was to come. Dark music flashed in her brain. She steepled her hands, although Sarah'd never been in church. It was here.

Matthieu swirled the liquid in the class, judging whether or not he should drink it. He sniffed hesitantly, watching Madame Stein so she doesn't get upset. "Que Dieu me donne de la force." He muttered, then went bottoms up. He smacked the glass on the bar with enough force to make a sound, but not near enough to break the glass. His hand went to his face, keeping himself from spitting all over the place.

Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, My Mouth! That stuff is liquid fire! Strong as sin as well! Guess it's in the name, really. "Let sang du Diable. He coughed as he swallowed, feeling the strong liquor sting his throat as it went down. "Dieu, What on Earth is in that?". He said between coughs, trying to put on a smile for the barmaid and valiantly failing. "Phew. That's.... Interesting."

[Danubian Peoples]

WILL EDIT OR REDACT POST IF NECESSARY.
Main Street, East Zilch
Billy With the Kid

"Wait, come, c'mere! Don'tcha go, c'mon!" said Billy as 'Flew Eggs' departed with haste. "Apologies if I got'cha name wrong, was that the problem?" Still, the fur-clad Frenchman refused to deviate from his path, despite Billy's calls. Disappointed, Billy turned to his pet goat Jimmy.

"Goshdang-nabbit Jimmy, what do 'ya have to leave me hangin' like that? Don't tell me 'ya lied 'bout serving under Sleepy Bony-partition now, because not an inklin' of French came out of that mouth of 'yers!" With an exasperated and somewhat frustrated sigh, Billy continues walking down Main street, this time on the hunt for another, hopefully helpful, face. And find it he did, albeit not in the capacity he imagined it to be.

Billy finds himself staring down a strange poster, with one the face of one cowhand's cowhand slapped right onto it. He retreats to a corner with Jimmy, and he muses about what he just saw. "Ain't that Dum Gin, Jimmy? Never knew he went by... whatever those weird black lines mean? Poster says he's valued at 10 grand?" He momentarily pauses to think this through.. "Jimmy, I think Dum Gin got some heat on him, and we might just have a partner in crime.. Wait a minute, That's him! Right next to Missus Stoot, and Missy Little-rack!"

Billy strode out of the corner and walked towards the three, only for another 'Dum Gin' to pass right by on horseback. Billy payed no attention to the real Buckaroo Bunjin, instead striding towards the doppleganger which he preceived as the real deal. Wait a minute, what am I doin?' I'll be talkin' to another criminal with these two ladies right next to 'im, thus exposing my activities. A perfectly reasonable assumption for an unreasonable criminal, strangely enough. Unfortunately, Billy's means of acting on this thought were less than discreet.

"Alright ladies, scram!" he declares as he holds Jimmy up with both arms, as if the goat were a rifle. "Get away from that Mister Dum Gin, because I am not afraid to use Jimmy on the two of 'ya!" Jimmy lets out a call while he rests on Billy's arms, sending goat spittle in the way of the three.

[Voxija]

Matthieu swirled the liquid in the class, judging whether or not he should drink it. He sniffed hesitantly, watching Madame Stein so she doesn't get upset. "Que Dieu me donne de la force." He muttered, then went bottoms up. He smacked the glass on the bar with enough force to make a sound, but not near enough to break the glass. His hand went to his face, keeping himself from spitting all over the place.

Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu, My Mouth! That stuff is liquid fire! Strong as sin as well! Guess it's in the name, really. "Let sang du Diable. He coughed as he swallowed, feeling the strong liquor sting his throat as it went down. "Dieu, What on Earth is in that?". He said between coughs, trying to put on a smile for the barmaid and valiantly failing. "Phew. That's.... Interesting."

Sarah Stein smiled. She was beginning to like this Frenchman. He was brave enough to try Devil's Blood, and with a surprisingly small amount of ill effects, too.

"Yes, that's Devil's Blood for you. Honestly, you're lucky. The first time I tried my own concoction, I started square dancing with myself and singing a song about working on the railroad. At least, that's what my sister's fiancé told me. I didn't remember it at all."

Sarah mused on Devil's Blood. "But then again, the effects are different, and difficult, for everyone. My advice? Wait a few hours. Make sure you're in a room by yourself or with someone you really trust. And keep a spitoon handy."

"Don't feel bad. Most people tryin' my drink for the first react worse than you did. You must be able to hold your liquor well. And I have a saying: you ain't tasted East Zilch if you ain't tasted my stranger drinks."

---

.25 miles outside East Zilch,Texas

Troy is found slowly riding his black Apaloosa named Asoka towards East Zilch. He approaches the sign that welcomes people to East Zilch and looks at it. Troy studies the sign for 5 minutes before shrugging his broad shoulders and continues into town. He guides his horse to the front of the saloon then climbs off Asoka and ties her rein to the hitching post. Troy walks into the saloon and scans the room looking for any threats. Seeing none, he walks up to the bar and asks the bartender in a slight southern accent, "Ma'am, a beer if you would please kindly."

Sarah Stein took a shine to this new man. She detected the Southern accent within his speech, and felt instinctively trusting of him. Of course, Sarah didn't trust no man that easily, but she darn well felt tempted to.

"Well, howdy!" Stein greeted. She decided not to smack her specialty, Beer Stein, on him so quickly, and gave him the weaker alternative, Beer Sarah. Beer Sarah just worked and tasted like normal beer, only it didn't taste like urine.

Sarah proved her skills as the fastest pour in the West and handed the Beer Sarah to the stranger. "Here you go, mister. One of my exclusive drinks, Beer Sarah, that being my first name. And what's your name?"

[Kallidrus]

WILL EDIT OR REDACT POST IF NECESSARY.
Main Street, East Zilch
Billy With the Kid

"Wait, come, c'mere! Don'tcha go, c'mon!" said Billy as 'Flew Eggs' departed with haste. "Apologies if I got'cha name wrong, was that the problem?" Still, the fur-clad Frenchman refused to deviate from his path, despite Billy's calls. Disappointed, Billy turned to his pet goat Jimmy.

"Goshdang-nabbit Jimmy, what do 'ya have to leave me hangin' like that? Don't tell me 'ya lied 'bout serving under Sleepy Bony-partition now, because not an inklin' of French came out of that mouth of 'yers!" With an exasperated and somewhat frustrated sigh, Billy continues walking down Main street, this time on the hunt for another, hopefully helpful, face. And find it he did, albeit not in the capacity he imagined it to be.

Billy finds himself staring down a strange poster, with one the face of one cowhand's cowhand slapped right onto it. He retreats to a corner with Jimmy, and he muses about what he just saw. "Ain't that Dum Gin, Jimmy? Never knew he went by... whatever those weird black lines mean? Poster says he's valued at 10 grand?" He momentarily pauses to think this through.. "Jimmy, I think Dum Gin got some heat on him, and we might just have a partner in crime.. Wait a minute, That's him! Right next to Missus Stoot, and Missy Little-rack!"

Billy strode out of the corner and walked towards the three, only for another 'Dum Gin' to pass right by on horseback. Billy payed no attention to the real Buckaroo Bunjin, instead striding towards the doppleganger which he preceived as the real deal. Wait a minute, what am I doin?' I'll be talkin' to another criminal with these two ladies right next to 'im, thus exposing my activities. A perfectly reasonable assumption for an unreasonable criminal, strangely enough. Unfortunately, Billy's means of acting on this thought were less than discreet.
"Alright ladies, scram!" he declares as he holds Jimmy up with both arms, as if the goat were a rifle. "Get away from that Mister Dum Gin, because I am not afraid to use Jimmy on the two of 'ya!" Jimmy lets out a call while he rests on Billy's arms, sending goat spittle in the way of the three.

---

At the sound of his voice, Charlotte whirls around, swiftly puttin' her gun back in it's hiding place. "Excuse me, but I believe that Jimmy doesn't like it much, the way you're holding him, Billy" she said, changing her tone from that of which she addressed Yang in.

[Pax Nerdvana]

John Westwood
John Westwood sat at the bar, seemingly oblivous to the leaping barkeep, and the breaking stool, and whatever other antics were occurring. He was kind of lost in thought, thinking about how he planned to spend his afternoon cleaning his revolver, and giving his mule a bath. That mule was really starting to smell, after all. Maybe tommorow he would start getting together some supplies for another prospecting expedition.

[Talchyon]

Outside the sheriff's office
Buck & Tater

They had been waiting for the unusual feller to respond. But he didn't. Tater shook his head in sympathy and said, "Poor guy's mute, Buck. He's probably lived a hard life because of it. But I'm guessing he does really great at charades." 'Tweren't everyday you run into a white, red-headed injun with horseshoe marks. Buck shook his head in sympathy, too. Poor feller indeed.

The two cowhands were about to mosey on down the street to Miss Sally's saloon for their mornin' coffee, when the sheriff's door opened again and the sheriff came out. A genuinely decent man, the sheriff was the kind to uphold the law but also cared for small furry critters and had a soft spot for fools and underprivileged kids (which was most of the youth of East Zilch). Sheriff Lawson Norder. 'Law' to his friends.

Sheriff Norder said to them, "Buck, Tater, mornin'. Buck, I hate to say this, but there's somethin' that's come up and I'm at a loss."

Buck stopped the slow trot and turned Sue around. "Yes, sir?"

Sheriff Norder said, "Buck, can I show you somethin' inside? You can come too, Tater, if ya want."

Buck nodded. "Sure thing, Sheriff." Steppin' off his low horse, he tied Sue to the hitching post outside the sheriff's, just as Tater did the same to the nameless equine wonder that he still had no desire to come up with a name for. As the two friends entered the building, Sheriff Norder brought them to a wall that served as the area where the wanted signs were posted. And among all of the posters up, was one that shocked the two friends mightily.

At their stunned expressions, Sheriff Norder began gently, "Look, Buck, I know yer a good, decent man. You've lived around East Zilch for years. Never once had a complaint out of you, except maybe that one time you sweet-talked Bessie McGinn into giving you one of her peach pies and that made ol' Abe her husband get upset n' all. But when I saw this wanted poster, I couldn't believe it. Buckaroo Bunjin? Wanted for killin' someone and stealin' cattle'? That didn't sound like you at all. So I telegraphed the state capital to find out about this, and sure enough. It's legit. The several witnesses described you to a tee. And so, I don't know, Buck. I like ya n' all. But until we can get this sorted out, I'm gonna have to ask you to spend some time in the county jail in the back."

Buck's expression went from surprised to deeply sad. Jail! He had never spent a night in the clink ever! That was for town drunks and skunk peddlers and the occasional brawlers, but never him! Heck, there had been that one time a few years ago when a huge fight in town happened over Miss Sadie's picnic lunches that she kept in one of her wicker carriers, with accusations on all sides of fellers who might have stolen one of her prized lunches. She was quite the cook, after all. And that fight went on and on just to reveal who had gotten the free lunch. Yep. It had been an epic basket-brawl match. Only, Buck hadn't fought in that one, neither. He hadn't even taken the lunch. So he had never spent the night behind bars. And it looked like he was going to have to.

Tater gulped, as Buck was led into the back, and put in jail by a sorrowful and apologetic Sheriff Norder. Tater said, "I'll help you Buck. You just sit tight. We'll get this figgered out." And to the Sheriff, Tater said, "No hard feelin's, sheriff. You got to do your job too. I'm sure we'll find out it's just a huge mistake and Buck will go free." Sheriff Norder said, "Sure hope so, Tater. I don't know what's behind this, but we'll get this cleared up. With that procession of Fort Knox gold goin' through town today, we can't give the impression that we allow wanted criminals to run free. Even though it's got to be some mistake on their parts..."

Then, Tater left the sheriff's, got on his horse with no name, and proceeded down Main Street, lost in thought.

---

Beaux Lagged

Taking Karen the postmistress by the hand, the hided man prissily marched his way to the mayor's office. Those articles of incorporation for founding a business in East Zilch had to be here! And the licensing. And etc. etc., so on and so on, with a few more etc.s thrown in just to add good flavor to it.

The mayor's office, which of course, also happened to be on Main Street, was a nice building. Cool inside, even. There were maps of the area on the walls, old campaign posters, even photographs(!) of the mayor and various celebrities. Senators.
Congressmen. Abolitionists. Even Pres. Millard Fillmore himself! Though, if you looked closely at those pictures, you'd see that all of the celebrities were cut-outs from other discarded pictures from back east, pasted on several copies of the same photograph of the mayor with an outstretched arm over empty space. His name was painted on the clear glass of the door: "Mayor Jeremiah Slick, L.L.B.(e.a.n.)"

The mayor was busy arguing heavily with three others in the room. Heavily muscled, ugly, stupid men - his assistants, all of them, and long time political supporters. You didn't get to be Mayor Slick's assistants by your political know-how or speech-writing abilities. Whatever it was they were arguing about though was cut short when the mayor saw Beaux and Karen. Then, he turned on the most political of big smiles at his constituents as he ushered the other men out.

"Citizens! To what do I owe the pleasure?" Beaux began to speak, but then was cut short by Karen. "Fahne," he thought. "Ahy weel speak second!"

---

Oh ho the Fells Cargo Wagons are a comin' down the street!

As expected, the caravan of Fells Cargo wagons carrying the 50 bars of solid gold bars on the way to Fort Knox rode into town, bypassing Juan Swayne as he rode. It was a sight to see, especially for socially deprived people living on the frontier. The bright colors! The teams of horses! The trademarked logos!

Except, things weren't lookin' greatest when their lead horses all of a sudden threw their shoes (one of them scoring a ringer around a horseshoes competitive post and gaining three points). The caravan of coaches stopped. The drivers got off the coaches and began to discuss with each other. One of them pulled out his pocketwatch and frowned. This wasn't in the plans. Guess they were gonna have to find the local blacksmith while they were delayed.

Delayed, with 50 bars of solid gold bars in their cargo!

[Kallidrus]

Oh ho the Fells Cargo Wagons are a comin' down the street!

As expected, the caravan of Fells Cargo wagons carrying the 50 bars of solid gold bars on the way to Fort Knox rode into town, bypassing Juan Swayne as he rode. It was a sight to see, especially for socially deprived people living on the frontier. The bright colors! The teams of horses! The trademarked logos!

Except, things weren't lookin' greatest when their lead horses all of a sudden threw their shoes (one of them scoring a ringer around a horseshoes competitive post and gaining three points). The caravan of coaches stopped. The drivers got off the coaches and began to discuss with each other. One of them pulled out his pocketwatch and frowned. This wasn't in the plans. Guess they were gonna have to find the local blacksmith while they were delayed.

Delayed, with 50 bars of solid gold bars in their cargo!

---

Charlotte, hearing a commotion outside, looked up from her stove. She had been making an apple pie to take to the knitting group. She saw the massive wagon pull into town, and watched as two men got out and headed over to the blacksmith. I wonder what smartass is gonna try and rob it..." she thought to herself. She opened the window for some fresh air, and continued her baking. After all, it was almost 4 O'clock!

[Western Fardelshufflestein]

I'd Like to Speak to the Manager: Part 1.1

The last thing Karen needed on a mornin' like this was an interruption, and, boy, there were several. Between the schoolteacher whose mannerisms were more than a tad worrisome, the arrival of Buck's doppelganger, and being led to the mayor's office by the hand of this furry Frenchman--well, her day was going downhill faster than a runaway train that was never goin' back.

The mayor's office, with which Karen was very familiar, still had an outdated picture of President Fillmore. This was highly inappropriate, as he was two presidents ago, and he had lowered the price of the postage stamp. Was the dignity of the United States Postal Service not recognized in Southwest Texas?

Mayor Slick was in the thick of a flame-throwin' argument when he spotted Sir Sacrebleu and Karen, who had successfully pulled her hand away from his. (How dare he insult her like that?) He approached them as smoothly as an oil spill, then flashed them a campaign speech smile before beginning to speak in his flawless drawl, which Karen was almost certain was false.

"Citizens? To what do I owe the pleasure--?"

"There are extremely unsanctioned, chaotic, inappropriate, and lawless things happening in the streets. First of all, there is this fur-trapper, not to mention a doctor who paid a visit to the degenerate saloon, as well as someone who looks just like Buck, not to mention the wild man Billy and his maniacal goat! Slick, if you cannot control your own citizens, I will put my boot down and do it myself!"

"Fahne," he replied in that falsely gregarious way of his, "Ahy Weel speak second!"

Karen finally lost it. "Did you not hear a thing I just uttered? There is absolute tomfoolery erupting in your own town, and you do not even care! The amount of effort it will take to restore order must appall you even more than it does me!" She folded her arms across her chest, furious. "And, while we are here, deny this man his papers. He took my hand in his in such a way that will surely stir up trouble that I want nothing of. I have been nothing but a loyal wife, and I will have to spend all of knitting circle denying such allegations because of him...." She paused, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. Her shoulders visibly relaxed. "All I ask is that you see to it that this individual is expelled from town."

[American Pere Housh]

.25 miles outside East Zilch,Texas

Troy is found slowly riding his black Apaloosa named Asoka towards East Zilch. He approaches the sign that welcomes people to East Zilch and looks at it. Troy studies the sign for 5 minutes before shrugging his broad shoulders and continues into town. He guides his horse to the front of the saloon then climbs off Asoka and ties her rein to the hitching post. Troy walks into the saloon and scans the room looking for any threats. Seeing none, he walks up to the bar and asks the bartender in a slight southern accent, "Ma'am, a beer if you would please kindly."

Sarah Stein took a shine to this new man. She detected the Southern accent within his speech, and felt instinctively trusting of him. Of course, Sarah didn't trust no man that easily, but she darn well felt tempted to.

"Well, howdy!" Stein greeted. She decided not to smack her specialty, Beer Stein, on him so quickly, and gave him the weaker alternative, Beer Sarah. Beer Sarah just worked and tasted like normal beer, only it didn't taste like urine.

Sarah proved her skills as the fastest pour in the West and handed the Beer Sarah to the stranger. "Here you go, mister. One of my exclusive drinks, Beer Sarah, that being my first name. And what's your name?"

Troy studied the woman for a few seconds before answering her question, "Well ma'am, I am Troy Eichmann, U.S Marshal." He takes a swig of his beer savoring the taste before swallowing then begins to speak again, "This beer ain't half bad unlike some of the beer I have tasted in my travels."

[Voxija]

Troy studied the woman for a few seconds before answering her question, "Well ma'am, I am Troy Eichmann, U.S Marshal." He takes a swig of his beer savoring the taste before swallowing then begins to speak again, "This beer ain't half bad unlike some of the beer I have tasted in my travels."

Eichmann. That name made Stein slip a bit. One of her father's colleagues was named Eichmann. Stole all his money, though. It made sense that an Injun-lookin' man had a German last name; Sarah had seen plenty of half-breeds around these parts. But how did a Metis man become a US Marshal? Surely they wouldn't let him join. Unless he was really good at his job...

Sarah loved having her drinks complimented and this one was no exception. "Why, thank you," Sarah replied. "I've spent years perfecting the recipe of my Beer Sarah. Of course, if you'd like something a bit stronger later, you can try its big sister, my patented Beer Stein."

Sarah placed her arms on the counter. "So, how did you become a US Marshal? Seems like your story would be interesting."

[Danubian Peoples]

Main Street, East Zilch
Billy With the Kid

WILL EDIT OR REDACT POST IF NECESSARY.
Main Street, East Zilch
Billy With the Kid

"Wait, come, c'mere! Don'tcha go, c'mon!" said Billy as 'Flew Eggs' departed with haste. "Apologies if I got'cha name wrong, was that the problem?" Still, the fur-clad Frenchman refused to deviate from his path, despite Billy's calls. Disappointed, Billy turned to his pet goat Jimmy.

"Goshdang-nabbit Jimmy, what do 'ya have to leave me hangin' like that? Don't tell me 'ya lied 'bout serving under Sleepy Bony-partition now, because not an inklin' of French came out of that mouth of 'yers!" With an exasperated and somewhat frustrated sigh, Billy continues walking down Main street, this time on the hunt for another, hopefully helpful, face. And find it he did, albeit not in the capacity he imagined it to be.

Billy finds himself staring down a strange poster, with one the face of one cowhand's cowhand slapped right onto it. He retreats to a corner with Jimmy, and he muses about what he just saw. "Ain't that Dum Gin, Jimmy? Never knew he went by... whatever those weird black lines mean? Poster says he's valued at 10 grand?" He momentarily pauses to think this through.. "Jimmy, I think Dum Gin got some heat on him, and we might just have a partner in crime.. Wait a minute, That's him! Right next to Missus Stoot, and Missy Little-rack!"

Billy strode out of the corner and walked towards the three, only for another 'Dum Gin' to pass right by on horseback. Billy payed no attention to the real Buckaroo Bunjin, instead striding towards the doppleganger which he preceived as the real deal. Wait a minute, what am I doin?' I'll be talkin' to another criminal with these two ladies right next to 'im, thus exposing my activities. A perfectly reasonable assumption for an unreasonable criminal, strangely enough. Unfortunately, Billy's means of acting on this thought were less than discreet.
"Alright ladies, scram!" he declares as he holds Jimmy up with both arms, as if the goat were a rifle. "Get away from that Mister Dum Gin, because I am not afraid to use Jimmy on the two of 'ya!" Jimmy lets out a call while he rests on Billy's arms, sending goat spittle in the way of the three.

---

At the sound of his voice, Charlotte whirls around, swiftly puttin' her gun back in it's hiding place. "Excuse me, but I believe that Jimmy doesn't like it much, the way you're holding him, Billy" she said, changing her tone from that of which she addressed Yang in.

Billy's face boiled a hot red with fury. Here she was, being threatened with force, and she had the gall to comment on Billy's goat husbandry skills? "I'll have 'ya know here that Jimmy here has single-handedly taken out several dozen 'Messican soldiers a few years back, and I ain't afraid to make 'im do the same to 'ya. So knock off the nonsense, Missy Little-rack, and SCRAM! Scram I tell 'ya! Get outta my waayyy...."

Oh ho the Fells Cargo Wagons are a comin' down the street!

As expected, the caravan of Fells Cargo wagons carrying the 50 bars of solid gold bars on the way to Fort Knox rode into town, bypassing Juan Swayne as he rode. It was a sight to see, especially for socially deprived people living on the frontier. The bright colors! The teams of horses! The trademarked logos!

Except, things weren't lookin' greatest when their lead horses all of a sudden threw their shoes (one of them scoring a ringer around a horseshoes competitive post and gaining three points). The caravan of coaches stopped. The drivers got off the coaches and began to discuss with each other. One of them pulled out his pocketwatch and frowned. This wasn't in the plans. Guess they were gonna have to find the local blacksmith while they were delayed.

Delayed, with 50 bars of solid gold bars in their cargo!

Billy halted speech mid-sentence, his words turning into a long, monotonous drawl as he turned his head to meet the object of his current desire. "Right there, Jimmy. The ones with wheels, just as I said. And it appears they're owned by the guvmint? Maybe, maybe this ain't as unillegal as I initially imagined.." Billy sniffed the air in anticipation, only for his head to suddenly swivel back to Charlotte!

"Wait, then this means there ain't time left! We've gotta act fast, Jimmy! Get Dum Gin outta here, and plan out our huntin' mission right now!" Billy momentarily pauses to grab some breaths. "Oh right, Little-rack. Where we again? Ah, yes. Scram 'ya idiot scram! Get away from Mister Dum Gin right this instant, because I ain't afraid to use Jimmy on 'ya whatsoever! Nevermind the fact that Jimmy is currently behind me..because he can destroy 'ya from over there too!"

[American Pere Housh]

Troy studied the woman for a few seconds before answering her question, "Well ma'am, I am Troy Eichmann, U.S Marshal." He takes a swig of his beer savoring the taste before swallowing then begins to speak again, "This beer ain't half bad unlike some of the beer I have tasted in my travels."

Eichmann. That name made Stein slip a bit. One of her father's colleagues was named Eichmann. Stole all his money, though. It made sense that an Injun-lookin' man had a German last name; Sarah had seen plenty of half-breeds around these parts. But how did a Metis man become a US Marshal? Surely they wouldn't let him join. Unless he was really good at his job...

Sarah loved having her drinks complimented and this one was no exception. "Why, thank you," Sarah replied. "I've spent years perfecting the recipe of my Beer Sarah. Of course, if you'd like something a bit stronger later, you can try its big sister, my patented Beer Stein."

Sarah placed her arms on the counter. "So, how did you become a US Marshal? Seems like your story would be interesting."

Troy thought for a second, "Well I've always wanted to become a U.S Marshal since I was a kid growing up in Santa Fe,New Mexico. A US Marshal had come by my family's ranch asking for water for his horse and my father,who was born in Nashville to a German immigrant, told me to get water for the man's horse. I started asking him questions about what its like to be a US Marshal. He told me it is at times a very dangerous job but he found satisfying to take criminals off the streets of America. I was 7 when this happened so from that point onward,I strived to be a Marshal. After I graduated from the University of St. Louis at 22, I applied to become a U.S Marshal and succeeded. I have been traveling all across the West capturing criminals and seeing the sights these past 9 years. I'm half Shawnee and half white is what I am and my skill with guns is how I was hired as a US Marshal. So tell me how did you come to live in a little burg like this?"

[Voxija]

Troy thought for a second, "Well I've always wanted to become a U.S Marshal since I was a kid growing up in Santa Fe,New Mexico. A US Marshal had come by my family's ranch asking for water for his horse and my father,who was born in Nashville to a German immigrant, told me to get water for the man's horse. I started asking him questions about what its like to be a US Marshal. He told me it is at times a very dangerous job but he found satisfying to take criminals off the streets of America. I was 7 when this happened so from that point onward,I strived to be a Marshal. After I graduated from the University of St. Louis at 22, I applied to become a U.S Marshal and succeeded. I have been traveling all across the West capturing criminals and seeing the sights these past 9 years. I'm half Shawnee and half white is what I am and my skill with guns is how I was hired as a US Marshal. So tell me how did you come to live in a little burg like this?"

"Nice." Sarah Stein pondered for a bit. How much should she tell this man? She thought and came to a conclusion.

"I was born in South Carolina." Sarah paused for a bit before she continued. "I hated it there. The Southern Belle life was not for me. I... ran away to the West." She decided not to tell Eichmann that she had signed up to be a mail-order bride. Somewhere in Oregon, there was a lonely man unaware that his dream girl was in East Zilch, Texas, mixing spirits and serving beer.

"That's it, sorry. My private life's private, so I don't feel like tellin' you any more." Sarah shrugged.

---

Oh ho the Fells Cargo Wagons are a comin' down the street!

As expected, the caravan of Fells Cargo wagons carrying the 50 bars of solid gold bars on the way to Fort Knox rode into town, bypassing Juan Swayne as he rode. It was a sight to see, especially for socially deprived people living on the frontier. The bright colors! The teams of horses! The trademarked logos!

Except, things weren't lookin' greatest when their lead horses all of a sudden threw their shoes (one of them scoring a ringer around a horseshoes competitive post and gaining three points). The caravan of coaches stopped. The drivers got off the coaches and began to discuss with each other. One of them pulled out his pocketwatch and frowned. This wasn't in the plans. Guess they were gonna have to find the local blacksmith while they were delayed.

Delayed, with 50 bars of solid gold bars in their cargo!

That was when Sarah Stein saw the gold bar wagons delayed on the street, with some townspeople looking and remarking at them and arguing in front of them. This was infuriating! They were obviously going to attract bandits or outlaws or things like that to this little town. Sarah didn't want that. Sarah did not want blood on her saloon floor. In some other Western towns she had visited, the bartender had just stood there while vengeful cowboys and people like that had killed people and ruined the bar's ambiance. That's not what Stein wanted.

Sarah Stein parkoured over the counter again, smoothing out her skirt with the hand that wasn't on the countertop. She sauntered outside of the saloon, angering the customers who where still waiting for their drinks.

"This is the problem!" screamed the bartender hysterically, while pointin' at the gold bars. "People are going to rob these wagons, fo shurr! And they'll probably wreck my bar and muck up this town as well! Any chaos here has to be on my own terms!"

[Danceria]

Ballad of the Pip-Man

East Zilch Bank

---

The minutes counted down to the end of the bronzed man's shift, if the sleepy town could even be called a shift. It was entirely ridiculous, graduate of Law School, attorney (well, Assistant Ace Attorney), being reduced to telling at a bank that barely had enough people in it to really do proper work. It was an oft invoked curse in Chinatown to "live in interesting times", but as his grandfather would say: "the mind grows sharp by going against the grain, not with it".

Okay, maybe his grandfather didn't say that-the venerable Pan Patriarch hardly spoke a lick of English (but a surprising amount of Spanish and Tagalog, having served as a liaison for Iberian traders in the South China Sea-which was why the Pan Clan was able to even escape to the United States by way of Vigan.

Shuffling over the papers for the upteenth time, the youthful feelings of rebelliousness pressed down by both incidental practicality and a combination of Dominican and Asian discipline was beginning to crack and bubble up. He felt as if he were a seed that had sprouted in otherwise infertile ground, rising against the odds only to be self-uprooted...or "Tumbleweeding", as one of his coworkers aptly put it.

It's not as if he disliked the town-he almost didn't mind the quirks set(minus Mrs. van Stoot, oh the cautionary proverbs she was unintentionally demonstrating), and it was a refreshing study of self reflection. But he remembered the words his father and grandfather actually said and kept to heart "Reading ten thousand books is not as useful as traveling ten thousand miles".

Four 'o clock, and he finally punched out, and bade his goodbyes...and discovered the bank-coach while on his way home.

"This is the problem!" screamed the bartender hysterically, while pointin' at the gold bars. "People are going to rob these wagons, fo shurr! And they'll probably wreck my bar and muck up this town as well! Any chaos here has to be on my own terms!"

Ms. Stein was one of the women he admired-not in that way, perv...though her character was something Phillip respected. She kept her nose and bar clean, made both mean alcoholic and nonalcoholic drinks, and the two swapped sarsaparilla and silence during their brief breaks from the boisterous nature of Ms. Stein's work as a saloon keeper. To most in town, Phillip Lei Redpan was a reclusive man, a silent glacier who moved slowly when looked upon, but often accomplished things or seemed to get to places faster than his movement allowed permitted. Well, to those who didn't just think he was a redskinned man in a suit that was hired muscle for the bank, or the reason he was banned from the bar for arm-wrestling and dart-throwing (even gave some of the cowhands as good as he got). But when Sarah Stein hollered, it was for a good reason.

Cocking his head in curiosity, he quitely ghosted to Ms. Stein's side, and cleared his throat. "Be as may, no chaos in street today please." he interjected to the spitfire South Carolinan, before gazing at the coach and horses. Was there really no security? What kind of an unprofessional idjit would park their horses and not tend for them, a thrown horseshoe could've caused the poor creature's leg to break!

"Ms. Stein, please get Pa Bumpkin or one of cowhand, horse might not be best shape." Phillip continued, looking over the one with the now lost shoe. He may not have been a veterinarian, but he at least knew to keep an eye on any injured folks-animal or otherwise!

[Democratic Republic of Eiria]

Matthieu de Travaux placed a few coins on the table and walked out of the saloon, carefully walking as he waited for the more adverse affects of the Devil's blood to kick in. He noticed the official-looking carriage stalled on main street, a couple of workers gathered around it. Huh, odd. Bad place to have the misfortune of getting stalled in. Wonder what's up.

He approached the carriage, noting the drivers inspecting the horses and Miss Stein tearing them all new ears about attracting bandits into town. He slipped through the crowd to try to get a better look, when a wave of nausea hit him like a runaway train. He stumbled, falling to his knees. "Wha..... What's going on here?". He said, before passing out on his face.

[American Pere Housh]

Troy thought for a second, "Well I've always wanted to become a U.S Marshal since I was a kid growing up in Santa Fe,New Mexico. A US Marshal had come by my family's ranch asking for water for his horse and my father,who was born in Nashville to a German immigrant, told me to get water for the man's horse. I started asking him questions about what its like to be a US Marshal. He told me it is at times a very dangerous job but he found satisfying to take criminals off the streets of America. I was 7 when this happened so from that point onward,I strived to be a Marshal. After I graduated from the University of St. Louis at 22, I applied to become a U.S Marshal and succeeded. I have been traveling all across the West capturing criminals and seeing the sights these past 9 years. I'm half Shawnee and half white is what I am and my skill with guns is how I was hired as a US Marshal. So tell me how did you come to live in a little burg like this?"

"Nice." Sarah Stein pondered for a bit. How much should she tell this man? She thought and came to a conclusion.

"I was born in South Carolina." Sarah paused for a bit before she continued. "I hated it there. The Southern Belle life was not for me. I... ran away to the West." She decided not to tell Eichmann that she had signed up to be a mail-order bride. Somewhere in Oregon, there was a lonely man unaware that his dream girl was in East Zilch, Texas, mixing spirits and serving beer.

"That's it, sorry. My private life's private, so I don't feel like tellin' you any more." Sarah shrugged.

---

Oh ho the Fells Cargo Wagons are a comin' down the street!

As expected, the caravan of Fells Cargo wagons carrying the 50 bars of solid gold bars on the way to Fort Knox rode into town, bypassing Juan Swayne as he rode. It was a sight to see, especially for socially deprived people living on the frontier. The bright colors! The teams of horses! The trademarked logos!

Except, things weren't lookin' greatest when their lead horses all of a sudden threw their shoes (one of them scoring a ringer around a horseshoes competitive post and gaining three points). The caravan of coaches stopped. The drivers got off the coaches and began to discuss with each other. One of them pulled out his pocketwatch and frowned. This wasn't in the plans. Guess they were gonna have to find the local blacksmith while they were delayed.

Delayed, with 50 bars of solid gold bars in their cargo!

That was when Sarah Stein saw the gold bar wagons delayed on the street, with some townspeople looking and remarking at them and arguing in front of them. This was infuriating! They were obviously going to attract bandits or outlaws or things like that to this little town. Sarah didn't want that. Sarah did not want blood on her saloon floor. In some other Western towns she had visited, the bartender had just stood there while vengeful cowboys and people like that had killed people and ruined the bar's ambiance. That's not what Stein wanted.

Sarah Stein parkoured over the counter again, smoothing out her skirt with the hand that wasn't on the countertop. She sauntered outside of the saloon, angering the customers who where still waiting for their drinks.

"This is the problem!" screamed the bartender hysterically, while pointin' at the gold bars. "People are going to rob these wagons, fo shurr! And they'll probably wreck my bar and muck up this town as well! Any chaos here has to be on my own terms!"

Troy followed Ms. Stein out of the Saloon before noticing the wagons filled with gold. He glanced over at Sarah as she was yelling about the wagons getting robbed. That is when he decided to speak up, "Ma'am, if anyone tries to rob those wagons, the federal government will be on their asses." Troy walks up to where the driver and shotgun guard sat on the wagon,"Troy Eichmann,U.S Marshal. Is there a reason why you stopped in this town?"

[Voxija]

Cocking his head in curiosity, he quitely ghosted to Ms. Stein's side, and cleared his throat. "Be as may, no chaos in street today please." he interjected to the spitfire South Carolinan, before gazing at the coach and horses. Was there really no security? What kind of an unprofessional idjit would park their horses and not tend for them, a thrown horseshoe could've caused the poor creature's leg to break!

"Ms. Stein, please get Pa Bumpkin or one of cowhand, horse might not be best shape." Phillip continued, looking over the one with the now lost shoe. He may not have been a veterinarian, but he at least knew to keep an eye on any injured folks-animal or otherwise!

"What a sad sight," muttered Sarah Stein. Phillip was a good man, even if he called her by some made-up Injun title instead of "Miss". What was sad was the horse without a shoe. Sarah knew nothin' about horses, but what she did know made her sad about the way they were treated.

Sarah Stein started walkin' down Main Street to look for Buckaroo or Tater Frye or whoever might be able to take a look at these horses.

[Talchyon]

Main Street
Tater Frye

The sad cowhand sludged his way forward on his horse with no name. With Buckaroo Bunjin in jail, Tater had no idea why anyone would think he was a criminal. Worse, Tater had no way to get him out. Would they take him to court? Would he need a lawyer?
There weren't darned near any real lawyers in East Zilch, not as far as he knew. That didn't leave too many options. And even if there was a lawyer, Tater knew that he and Buck putting all their money together couldn't afford one.

The crowd ahead caught his attention and distracted him. Tater stopped feeling sorry for himself, and for Buck, and wondered what in tarnation was up with the caravan of stagecoaches stopped in the middle of town. The crowd was gatherin'. Tater saw Miss Sarah, Silent Phil who worked as the clerk at the county store, Billy that old coot who carried a goat around with him, a few new people in town and bunches of other nameless people who were no doubt just extras. Oh, and there was a guy who seemed to have too much to drink, who passed out right as he was leaving the bar. Miss Sarah, it turned out, was lookin' for him.

"What a sad sight," muttered Sarah Stein. Phillip was a good man, even if he called her by some made-up Injun title instead of "Miss". What was sad was the horse without a shoe. Sarah knew nothin' about horses, but what she did know made her sad about the way they were treated.

Sarah Stein started walkin' down Main Street to look for Buckaroo or Tater Frye or whoever might be able to take a look at these horses.

Tater asked, "What's goin' on here, Miss Sarah? And who are these folks?"

Meanwhile, the caravan drivers were out looking for a blacksmith (to no avail). The shotgun riders with them were staying close to the carriages. And a certain U.S. marshall made his presence known...

Troy followed Ms. Stein out of the Saloon before noticing the wagons filled with gold. He glanced over at Sarah as she was yelling about the wagons getting robbed. That is when he decided to speak up, "Ma'am, if anyone tries to rob those wagons, the federal government will be on their asses." Troy walks up to where the driver and shotgun guard sat on the wagon,"Troy Eichmann,U.S Marshal. Is there a reason why you stopped in this town?"

The shotgun rider, a grizzled old man with, not surprisingly, a shotgun, spoke to the marshall. The only problem was, the man was unfortunately hard of hearing and thought everyone else was, too. And that meant, whenever he spoke, he tended to use more debicels than most folks. "Dang horse. We're supposed to be in Maneuver City by night, but it doesn't look like we're going anywhere else. And the horse isn't the worst of the problems either. Buford back there is havin' a problem with his back wheels, so we need a wheelwright to fix them..."

And then, bending close to the U.S. Marshall, the shotgun rider tried to whisper (but was unfortunately just as loud as he was before), saying, "Don't tell anyone, Marshall, but we're bringin' 50 gold bars to Fort Knox. It would be an awful shame if someone took them tonight."

---

Mayor Slick's office
The mayor and Beaux Lagged

I'd Like to Speak to the Manager: Part 1.1

The last thing Karen needed on a mornin' like this was an interruption, and, boy, there were several. Between the schoolteacher whose mannerisms were more than a tad worrisome, the arrival of Buck's doppelganger, and being led to the mayor's office by the hand of this furry Frenchman--well, her day was going downhill faster than a runaway train that was never goin' back.

The mayor's office, with which Karen was very familiar, still had an outdated picture of President Fillmore. This was highly inappropriate, as he was two presidents ago, and he had lowered the price of the postage stamp. Was the dignity of the United States Postal Service not recognized in Southwest Texas?

Mayor Slick was in the thick of a flame-throwin' argument when he spotted Sir Sacrebleu and Karen, who had successfully pulled her hand away from his. (How dare he insult her like that?) He approached them as smoothly as an oil spill, then flashed them a campaign speech smile before beginning to speak in his flawless drawl, which Karen was almost certain was false.

"Citizens? To what do I owe the pleasure--?"

"There are extremely unsanctioned, chaotic, inappropriate, and lawless things happening in the streets. First of all, there is this fur-trapper, not to mention a doctor who paid a visit to the degenerate saloon, as well as someone who looks just like Buck, not to mention the wild man Billy and his maniacal goat! Slick, if you cannot control your own citizens, I will put my boot down and do it myself!"

[/spoiler}

The mayor's purely political smile wavered as he recognized Karen. Willing himself to keep smiling, even though dealing with the postmaster's wife was a punishment he wouldn't wish on anyone, it was a price he had to pay if he wanted to keep a tight rein on political power in the city.

"Why, hello Karen," he said, gritting his teeth with the fake political smile still on his lips. "I thought I recognized you. Nice day, isn't it? As for the unruly, unsanctioned, chaotic and inappropriate people in town? I'm so glad you brought that to my attention. I will be happy to look into it." He had had these kinds of meetings with her before. And rarely going past promising to merely look into things, Mayor Slick had begun to develop the fine art of not saying anything while using bunches of words to say it. He was quite proud of that fact.

Beaux, on the other hand, spoke up and was rudely interrupted by Karen.
[spoiler=The Karen speaks again]

"Fahne," he replied in that falsely gregarious way of his, "Ahy Weel speak second!"

Karen finally lost it. "Did you not hear a thing I just uttered? There is absolute tomfoolery erupting in your own town, and you do not even care! The amount of effort it will take to restore order must appall you even more than it does me!" She folded her arms across her chest, furious. "And, while we are here, deny this man his papers. He took my hand in his in such a way that will surely stir up trouble that I want nothing of. I have been nothing but a loyal wife, and I will have to spend all of knitting circle denying such allegations because of him...." She paused, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. Her shoulders visibly relaxed. "All I ask is that you see to it that this individual is expelled from town."

Mayor Slick looked at the unusually zealous Frenchman, and shuddered. But then, he smiled again and said, "Karen, I'm sure no one will assume that you and this... fine.. gentleman... have had anything untoward with each other. They know how devoted you are to your husband. As for expelling this... as for expelling him, I don't even know what to say."

Beaux spoke up. "Ahy am Beaux Lagged! A Frenchman! And Ahy..."

Mayor Slick chuckled despite himself. "Did you just say your name was 'bowlegged?"

Beaux got his hackles up. "Non! Ahy deed NOT sahy zat. Ahy am not named 'bowlegged, but Ahy am named Beaux Lagged, emphasis on ze second syl-LAB-ble. An' Ahy want to set up a store in ze town. To sell zese fahyne wayres!" And he showed some of the hides on him.

Mayor Slick's smile remained plastered on his face. "I see. Well, Mr. Lagged, I would be happy to get you the necessary paperwork needed to set up shop in East Zilch. But, you may not know, that the city council recently raised prices for all new hide-stores. Anyone wanting to sell hides in East Zilch now has to pay Three Hundred Dollars. And, of course, I would have to broker the deal, so that would be payable straight to me, and then I would hand it over at the next council meeting..."

But when Beaux heard the high cost, his eyes got wide. "Sacre bleu!" he yelled in shock. "Ahy cannot afford zat!"

Mayor Slick shifted his political smile to a sad, sympathetic grimace. "Oh dear. That is a problem. Well, I wish I could lower the price, but it wasn't me who set that price. That was the town council, and I don't think they want to lower it. I have absolutely no IDEA why they set the price that high..."

[Stollberg-Stolberg]

Clock Stor, East Zilch
Daniel von Gerk
Daniel began to prepare himself for the upcoming Nights, but first he needed to make his "Clock round" in the streets. The sound of the small Silver Bell was annoying, almost as annoying as the normal Bell. He began going rounds in the streets ringing the Bell which he now named "Annoyance" which was an bad name for a bell but the name was true to the sound. Right as he finished his "Clock Round" he started to walk towards his store, because he still needed to fill out the flyer for the needed Gears, but as he took the first step onto the stairs he slipped and landed on his back.

[Voxija]

Tater asked, "What's goin' on here, Miss Sarah? And who are these folks?"

Sarah Stein knew Tater Frye well enough. He stopped by at her saloon sometimes, usually with his comr— compatriot Buckaroo. But where was Buck? Oh well, Sarah had a lot of things to tell Frye before asking him about his fellow cowhand.

"Apparently, Mr. Frye, a load of Fells Cargo wagons showed up carryin' a heck ton a gold. Them horses pullin' those wagons don't look so good, an' we need a man good with horses to go check them out. You're good with horses, so I went to get you. I don't hold with those big gold wagons coming to our town, people'll get killed over them. So where's Buckaroo? You're always with him. Where's 'e now?"

As Sarah talked, she walked over to the wagons and the horses and the bars of gold. But, as it turns out, she didn't need to talk at all, as the shotgun rider had explained everything already, in a loud tone of voice, too. It was louder than even Miss Stein could shout on a good day.

Sarah grumbled, not even listening to Tater Frye's answer. It was like the shotgun rider didn't know what sort of time period he was in. His loud voice would attract every bandit in Texas! And that was when Sarah realized that she had been just as crazy too, vaulting over the counter to wail about the wagons like she had hysteria. Sarah felt something she hadn't in a long time—regret.

[Stollberg-Stolberg]

Main Street
Daniel von Gerk

Matthieu de Travaux placed a few coins on the table and walked out of the saloon, carefully walking as he waited for the more adverse affects of the Devil's blood to kick in. He noticed the official-looking carriage stalled on main street, a couple of workers gathered around it. Huh, odd. Bad place to have the misfortune of getting stalled in. Wonder what's up.

He approached the carriage, noting the drivers inspecting the horses and Miss Stein tearing them all new ears about attracting bandits into town. He slipped through the crowd to try to get a better look, when a wave of nausea hit him like a runaway train. He stumbled, falling to his knees. "Wha..... What's going on here?". He said, before passing out on his face.

As Daniel Stood up atfer the fall, his Back hurt like Hell and he wanted to get some Medicine from the new town Doctor he never saw. This was maybe because he was in the "Clock Stor" the entire time, the e fell from the wall and he didn´t have nails to repair it, he only now noticed that an Wagon from Fell´s Cargo stood in the streets. This was pretty much suicide to protect it when bandits would come to East Zilch, any establishment would be unsafe, this was Unnaceptable.

But he also was curious what the people where looking at, so he went closer to the wagon. As he could almost look inside he noticed a stranger who lied before him. Since he didn´t want a unconsious body he started to ask if the stranger was ok.

"Mister are you Okay? Should I bring you to the Doktor?"

He thought that the stranger wouldn´t answer and it looked like nobody noticed him and he was to heavy to be carried by him, so he started to drag the person to the doctors office, or to the part of the town were the doctors office would most likely be. Something like "If you smell cookies look in the kitchen" kind of thing.