Re: Chaos in the Saloon Town (Librarian)
OoC: Yeesh. It was harder than I thought to pair these two up. If this wasn’t such a good match up, I probably would have tried someone else. Let’s see how this works out. Oh, and sorry if it’s a bit skimpy on the action. It’s a bit too long just being an intro as it is.
BiC: Dreamer walked into a saloon. She did not want to walk into a saloon, or a bar, or a pub, or even a tavern, for that matter, but she did anyways. The Sacred Lance wielder stepped through the swinging doors with her spear over her shoulder, not stopping to size the place up as most would have upon entering someplace such as that. She got the bartender’s attention with an “Excuse me,” that registered above the level of ‘murmur’, and ordered a big mug of whatever non-alcoholic drink they had. She took her drink, brushed by a few people, and took a seat at an empty table near the back of the building.
If it had been any other time of day besides dawn, there would have been an entire room of people staring directly at her. If she were not better equipped to travel during the night, there was a good chance she would have just gotten herself into a bit of trouble. Luckily, she was who she was. Toasting to herself, she started on her drink. It was water. After gulping down a mouthful, Dreamer leaned back in her chair, and let out a dramatic sigh. Hiking sure made a person thirsty. After a stressful day of worrying whether or not she was going to find shelter before the sun came up, it was good to get something to drink.
As the jacket sporting woman peacefully took swig after swig of her drink, someone seemed to take special notice of her. She did not even notice the man who was staring at her until he decided to walk over and sit himself down at her table. “You’re not from ‘round here, are you?” he said after not making a noise for an awkward length of time. He was an unshaven, vest wearing, ten gallon hat sporting, piece carrying kind of person. In other words, he was a person she did not even want to know had the ability to speak. He smiled as he waited for her answer. Kind of.
“No,” she replied succinctly, checking her personal effects. She wanted this person to go away. The man let out a laugh she had never heard come from a person before. “Wheell heell,” he squeaked, “A smart mouthed woman. Don’t this world of ours got everything. You ought to learn how to talk more polite-like to your men-folk.”
“May I sit here in peace?” she continued, taking a small drink from her mug, “I would rather be alone, right now, so, please, go somewhere else.”
“Now, I don’t think that’s gonna work out.”
“Please, go away.”
He blatantly ignored her. Without any signs of doing what she pleaded, he got up from his seat, and moved to the chair right next to hers. Giving off a more creepy air than before, he pulled up close. “Go away,” Dreamer demanded with a kind of mild harshness, “Or I’ll punch you in the face.”
“Now, why don’t you stop all that nonsense,” the man went on, “and come…” And, at that point, he simply stopped talking. The Sacred Lance wielder delivered on her threat. Once she set her drink down, she arced the back of her fist straight into his nose.
The man did nothing. All he did was sit there staring straight ahead. After a few moments, he got up and began to walk away. Before he could get back to where he had been sitting previous, that person shuddered, and fell over sideways. Dreamer picked up her mug again.
Not more than a few seconds passed before someone in the saloon began to laugh as if they were getting feathers taken to their toes. The jacket sporting woman’s head snapped in the direction the laugh came from. At the furthest end of the bar, a frightened looking woman got up, and ran away from a man wearing all black who was laughing at the top of his lungs. He laughed loudly to himself for a while longer, before getting up, and giggling his way over to Dreamer. Still snickering, he sat down across from her, letting her see the exact details his face did not have.
“You just made my day,” he said, smacking his hand down lightly against the table, “You know, it’s good to see a person who doesn’t take anything from idiots. I just wish I was paying attention when you actually hit him.” He paused to chuckle for a few seconds. “Ah, but seeing him just fall over like that was funny enough as it is.”
“Thank you,” Dreamer replied, although he had not given her an actual compliment, “It was no big deal.”
“It was hilarious. And impressive, too. If you could do that just sitting, I’ll bet you’re a terror with that spear you have there. You know what, I was just looking for a new partner. You and I should hook up, and see if we can’t bring some justice to these parts. I’m Black Shisho, but just Shisho would be lovely.”
The Sacred Lance wielder could hardly process anything he had just said to her. “Huh?” she went as she tried to piece together the message he had just thrown at her, “You want me to fight crime with you? Like a pair of Vigilantes? Wait a moment; who did you say you were? Me? I’m sorry, but you’ve read me wrong. I’m just a simple world traveler, and I carry this spear for personal reasons.”
“Oh, well, in that case, allow me to apologize. What would you say about watching the rest of the sunrise together? It would give me the chance to learn a bit more about you.”
“I really…”
At that moment, the fates intervened. As Dreamer was about to shoot down Shisho’s horrid attempt at coming off as someone she might like to spend time with, a person tumbled through the doors of the saloon. “Help! Help!” he cried, causing the jacket sporting woman to jump from her seat, and the pitch black man to turn his attention away from what he wanted, “They’re tryin’ to take over the town! Freaks are tryin’ to take over! They already got the Sheriff! Aaaaaahhh!” With that, the man was pulled from out of the doorway by his feet.
Shisho was nonplussed. “Since this doesn’t concern us,” he said, turning back around, “How about we…” When he turned back, she was already off in a clanking clatter toward the door. Not one to miss an opportunity, he sprang up, and wove his way to the door before she could get there. “Since we’re both obviously going to try and take care of this,” he began, blocking her way, “I’d like to hear your name. So we can work together, better.”
“Call me Dreamer,” the Sacred Lance wielder retorted, shoving her way past him.
Out in the road, both of them shouted out a generic stock phrase.