Chapter Two: Painted Face in the Crowd

Doc


The Spirelight shone brightly in the clear morning sky as the townsfolk began to wake to a new day. Some set about sizing up and repairing the damage done by the vandalizing goblins the night before while the scent of bread and other foods being cooked filled the air. All in all, an air of peacefulness, quiet and calm, underlies a sense of curious excitement for this is to be the opening day of the Carnival.

Doc was already out and about, making his rounds to survey the damage from the night before. The damage done seemed to be nothing more than some broken windows, a smashed door or two with nothing but a few bobbles stolen. Captain Steele had already caught up to him and given her report, voicing her concerns about Kreshna and Red as well as complaining that she couldn’t find the old man last night. Doc listened closely and grinned when she started scolding him for disappearing on her. He told her to set the rest of the Doomgaurd to aid in what repairs needed to be made around town and take the day off.

Doc thought the report over for a moment. Kreshna was up to something, he usually was but hopefully the demon knew better than to honestly think he was going to get involved in his Mothers affairs. Red was upset about something. Surely she knew that if his help was needed, all she had to do was ask. On the other hand she seemed skittish around him, perhaps she was afraid to. Well, he will have to check on her at least.

Miss Belle and Miss Rose had the kitchen in full swing, cooking up some of the best smelling breakfast that already had some of the locals coming in. Business was quickly picking up this morning, folk coming in chattering about the Carnival that had set up on the edge of town near the lake. The excitement was steadily growing as people made plans to slough off their chores and make a day of it.

Markie


Markie had been right. The night had been endless. After Kreshna left, she didn't sleep much. What sleep she did find was restless and occupied by nightmares. So the shining of the Spire was both a blessing and a curse. Meditation in her borrowed room had eased the worst of the exhaustion, so that by the time she descended the steps back to the common room, she didn't look nearly so bad. The bags under her eyes were barely there at all.

Breakfast, while a fine meal by anyone's standards, was dull and tasteless in her mouth. She might as well have been gnawing on a charcoal log. Last night...it left many questions, many uncertainties. She didn't know how she felt about it all. Of course, she was able to see the value in it, but...at the same time, it made her nervous for what it meant for the future. And what it meant for her future here in New Tombstone. But, it was reassuring at least to see the locals moving about with excitement again. Hopefully the goblins would keep away, now that the air was so energized by the peoples hopes for the carnival. That was at least one thing she could deal with.

After breakfast and a quick peek in on Blasse, Markie went to see to her own repairs at the clinic. Thankfully, though her wards had been strong, and there was little more than a few scratches around the doors and windows where the little fiends had tried to gain entry. Nothing inside was disturbed but for the chaos of the infirmary that had been left when she and Kivan left the day before. All was easily returned to its place, and in short order Markie stood once more on the porch, doors and windows open to allow a breeze to pass through and freshen the air, her eyes closed and face turned up to the sky to soak in some warmth like a cat in a sunbeam. Perhaps later, she too would go to the carnival to try to relax. It had been a while since she had enjoyed such simple pleasures.

Clara


As the spireleight started to fill the area with light, Miss Clara stirred from her make-shift owlbear bed. The other gnome looked over from his perch atop the other owlbear to greet her. "Good morning, Mistress." With a curt nod to him, the female gnome stood up, straightening out the wrinkles in her dress as best as she could.

Miss Clara looked over towards the others with her, not fully expecting to see their guardian for the night and half expecting to see Ezekiel either asleep or with reddened eyes from fear of sleeping in present company. As she looked, she spoke to the other gnome, "Tai, has the mists lifted yet from the town?" He nods to her, "Yes, Mistress. And in it's place, it seems that the carnival has arrived and is almost finished setting up already."

Miss Clara turns to look at him with mild interest, "Oh, really? How..unusual. After we have returned to the town and checked in with Mr. Holiday, then we shall see if time allows for us to see this magically appearing show."

Red


Red woke up with a stiff neck and sore back. She lifted herself from the bar table and wiped the drool from the side of her face. Luckily, it had been Belle that found her and not one of the patrons. She offered the woman a weak smile and made her way upstairs to an available room. Somehow, her pack of belongings, a meager, dusty leather sack, had found its way up there sometime yesterday. A bath was drawn and she sank gratefully into the hot water. It eased the tension slightly and when she was dressed and somewhat respectable looking, Red once more worked her way downstairs. The smell of breakfast greeted her and started her stomach growling.

There was the beginnings of a commotion outside and so the woman moved out onto the Oriental's front stoop to see what was going on.

Doc


Doc has begun to make his way back down Allen Street when a man he had nearly forgotten about came running towards him from the market place. “Doc!” Tain called out with a half-hearted grin, “Your shipment is here!” The merchant had a tall, lanky build to him, human in appearance with dark hair and brown eyes. He was dressed in fairly fine garb yet as one who was used to being on the move. “You are a week late Tain.” Docs’ response was laced with displeasure. “There had better be a blasted good reason for me to continue allowing you to sell your goods here.”

Tain stopped a few feet before the old man, “Now Doc, don’t go getting all twisted on me. You know I wouldn’t be this late with a shipment without a reason.” Doc simply huffed, “I didn’t say any reason, I said a good one.” Tain looked hurt, he held his arms out and forced a grin, “C’mon Doc. It’s me.” The old man rolled his eyes as he turned sharply towards the market square where Tain owned one of the warehouses, “That is what worries me Tain.” Tain laughed as he fell in beside Doc and continued across the street…

A few of the shops were opening up for business as the buzz of activity began to spread throughout the town. Then, just above the den and stirrings, music could be heard. A quick and light hearted tempo rising through the air with the sounds of violins and calliopes ring through the air and, from out of seemingly nowhere, men and women with painted faces begin to dance and tumble down Allen Street. It seems that the Carnival has brought a parade with it, the sights and sounds already spreading excitement like a thunderhead pouring out the rain…

Clara


From the carnival grounds, many wagons were just finishing the last touches of setup for the start of a new crowd from a new town. Each wagon looked unique and different, yet still held enough similarity to be identified as being part of the same family. One such wagon was pained a mixture of blacks and whites, images of winged beauties - both demonic and angelic is amongst these wagons.

A wiry young man in matching black and white facepaint puts on the finishing touches for the impromptu stage that seems to simply fold down from the side of the wagon before he steps up to the door at the back of it. Inside can be heard a groaning female voice, "Nnnhh...dammit, Screech, you know I don't do mornings!" The young man is not deterred and knocks again on the door. "Nuh-uh. Not happenin'.", is heard from within.

With a silent huff, the young man opens the door to the wagon, letting in the early morning rays of light. Angel's only response is to screech herself, pulling her midnight black wings up over her face to block out the light. "Screech!!! OW, DAMN! Close the door at least! I'm up, I'm up, damn!!! Oww..." Screech just gives her a silent chuckle as he steps away from the door, closing it before he goes. As he starts to walk away to find breakfast, he pulls out a set of pan pipes and starts playing a haunting melody on it.

Meanwhile, inside the wagon, a very sleepy and now rather cranky winged drow starts to pull herself out of her impromptu nest of blankets and pillows cursing steadily under her breath in her native tongue. After a quick preening of her feathers to make sure they are all still in place, she takes a cloth from a tiny cupboard and fills a bowl with water from a stoppered pitcher.

Once she feels she is clean enough to be presentable, she pulls out her performing outfit and begins to dress appropriately for the day and evening's activities. She brushes out her hair before she rebraids it and stands up, almost done. As she gazes into the small mirror in her cramped little abode, she asks the silvery eyes that look back at her, "Will I ever be able to find it? What in the world do I do once I *have* found it? And how in the Night do I even get back home after this is all over..."

With a sigh, she slips the ornate, yet simple dark glasses over her eyes to help protect against the worst of the day's light. She steps out of the back of the wagon, not surprised to see Screech already back, eating a bowlful of breakfast gruel. He stops long enough to hand her a matching bowl before he goes back to his own. She takes the bowl with a thanks and sits beside him on the edge of the stage, careful of her full-sized wings. She says to him, "Another day, another town. I hope this one is not as boring as the last one..."

Doc


The drum, fife and organ grinder played in perfect harmony to introduce the town of New Tombstone to the sights and sounds of the Carnival. Horses pulled wagon cages and stages that displayed some of those sights.

Some of what is seen is a thin man wearing nothing but a loin cloth yet covered in tattoos’. Some folk glance away at the realization of how little the man wears but a second glance shows a truly amazing sight, the tattoos have moved, are moving in slow fluid motion across his body.

Another rolling stage reveals a man who has taken a seat upon a simple stool, smiling from ear to pierced ear while another, with a painted face, prances about him displaying a large iron spike in one hand and a wooden mallet in the other. The painted man comes to a stop behind his grinning companion, positioning the spike point down upon the dome of his skull. Then, as the crowd watches in shock and awe, the painted one proceeds to hammer the spike until it’s a third of the way in. With the crowd half shrieking and half cheering, the man who simply laughed while the spike was driven home now stood from his perch and bent at the waist to display that the act was quite real.

The music suddenly, subtly changed to a slow, rhythmic grind as yet another stage displayed a voluptuously curved woman dressed much like the painted gypsies who guided this parade down the street. The noticeable difference being that a red rose was painted along her smooth white face. Her swirling dance was entrancing the males, and quite a few of the females among the crowd. The dance plays on through most of the parade and only falters when they pass in front of the Oriental. Though hardly noticed by the crowd of spectators, it was most certainly noticed by the nearby troupers….

Tain lead the old man into the warehouse he had purchased from the town and straight to a very large, oblong crate that was currently suspended a foot off the ground by a chain harness. Doc raised an eyebrow at the sight, looking to the merchant for an explanation. “We just took it off the Gilded Angel when we docked. I knew you would be anxious to get her home.” Tain told him. “Her?” Doc asked, “I thought you said they were automatons.” Tain could only smile, “That, my dear friend, is why it took longer to get it here. I found you one that resembles a woman so much that the only thing missing is real flesh.” If looks alone could kill Tain would have died a most horrible, painful death, “Tain, you know I needed an automaton to keep Boot Hill in order and instead you’re telling me I now own a female?” Docs’ hand was inching ever closer to the Colt Thunderer at his waist.

“Hold on now Doc! Just wait until you get a good look at it! Have I ever cross traded you yet? Or given you the laugh?” The look on the old man’s face grew harder prompting Tain with, “Don’t answer that. You want to see it here or take it back to your place?” Doc figured he would regret it but motioned to the bay doors and grumbled, “Let’s take it home.”

Keshayla and Kivan


Pointy elbows dug into her back; the jabs sent annoying twinges of mild pain through her spine and side, until one eye opened, blinking in the low light to the room they were issued from before. Wall. Ceiling. Wall with mundane picture. Drow tangled in sheets.

Anyone else might have been hesitant to disturb the image of Kivan resting there, silent, peaceful, the culprit elbow sticking out in an awkward angle that the very young or very tired could hold. Keshayla only scowled softly, twisting in the sheets as she grabbed his arm, just above the elbow and pulled up. His body twisted, eyes flashing open, and then it was a blur of ashy dark, white hair and sheets before the thump sounded on the ground.

She centered herself before the curse sounded. Kivan's head broke the surface of the bed, and a nasty glair greeted her before he gave up and rested his chin on the bed. "Any particular reason for such an aweful wakeup?"

"If you were expecting a BJ, you're going to have to stay dissapointed."

"What about a tap on the shoulder?"

"Not when I get pointy elbows." The Drow sighed, pulling himself upright with both hands on the bed. Once standing, his hands twisted on the fitted sheet, and jerked, until Keshayla rolled off at his feet with a grunt, fighting to untangle herself from the cotton, grumbling as she muttered something about 'lack of respect'.

She stopped only when the smell of breakfast reached her nose, and at that point any payback was put on hold; due to the watering of her pallet. Clean clothes were dawned, hair was brushed and braided, teeth were cleaned, and the two walked out, looking as harmless as the two could possibly be; yet there was no doubt they were armed to the teeth.

Markie


The magi's eyes opened slowly when the music began to roll down the street. It was a spectacular display of skills, both mundane and otherwise. She leaned against the post that held up the porch roof, arms folded loosely, and watched the parade as it went by. It was embarassing to admit, but she had almost been one of those to shriek when the spike was driven into the man's head. And while she was certain that there was magic involved, she couldn't quite figure it out in the short time before that wagon had moved on.

It was the gypsie dancer, however, that truly caught her attention. It was strange; she tried to remain objective in her appreciation of the dance, but it continued to draw her in. There was...something about her. Something off. Markie tried to figure it out, but it seemed that she kept getting distracted by the dance. Almost like it was spinning a spell over her. Unfortunately, she too was eventually drawn out of sight, and Markie was left only with questions, and a curiosity to solve the mystery. She might have even fallen in with the small crowd that followed the caravan back to their camp to see more, but, alas, the day had begun, and with it came injuries. Already there came a man with his hand wrapped and his friend hovering to make sure he made it in alright. So, the carnival would have to wait. First, there was work to be done.

Red


Red leaned against one of the supporting pillars on the Oriental's front stoop. The menagerie of peoples, colors, swirling scarves and painted faces is enough to make her head swim. Yet she is entranced by the strangness of it all. The music, rhythmic and teasing, pulls her attention to the woman dancing.

There is a moment when Red finds herself almost drawn into the crowd, a headiness in the air that seems to suck all breath from her. She pauses, unsure of both herself and the situation. The next instant it is gone and Red wonders if she imagined it all. Her gaze moves to follow the caravan, but the dancer has moved on without a second thought. Red inhales deeply catching her breath.

Footsteps brought her attention back round to the Oriental's door where Kivan and Keshayla appeared. She inclined her head in greeting, Mornin', and then turns back to the procession.

Clara


Miss Clara busied herself momentarily with directing her owlbear bed into a standing position, walking around to wipe off the bits of dust and small debris on its other side. After using a medium sized rock as an impromptu step-stool, she seats herself sidesaddle on top of it. She says to Tai, "I take it the other two have already left to return to town?" Her companion shrugs, "I am not sure, Mistress. The human left first, muttering something under his breath. The...other, followed a little while later. He said you were safe now and that he had business to attend too."

The petite female nods, "Very well then. Let us return to town and get cleaned up. We still have unfinished business and plenty of questions to ask of Mr. Holiday." Before leaving, she takes one last glance at the area she and the others slept in for the night. "And many mysteries to look into afterwards. Tai, I believe we shall be staying here for a while." The other gnome nods to her, "Yes, Mistress. And shall I be staying hidden as before?" She thinks on this and shakes her head. "No, that will not be necessary. I believe Mr. Holiday is, mmm, talented enough to see you. It would be rude at that point, so we shall not worry about it." He nods again, "Yes, Mistress."

Turning Muffy and Fluffy around from the small clearing, Miss Clara and Rul'tai make their way back to Tombstone at an easy pace.

Doc


The entire shipment had to be loaded into two wagons; one for the automaton and the other carried the equipment to keep it running. Tains’ men hitched up the wagons to the bronze wood steeds and opened the barn doors while Doc took the reigns of the lead wagon and Tain seated himself upon the second.

Bronze wood steeds; automatons, they were made of bronze wood that came from Arborea, carved and fashioned into equine form. Their bodies were as sturdy as bronze, could pull loads nearly five times as heavy as any horse yet move just as swiftly. They were highly prized by the Outland merchants for the fact that they never needed to stop for rest, never needed to be watered and eliminated the need for feed. Most merchants that used them had them carved, painted or somehow decorated to be unique symbols of the merchants wealth and power. Tain on the other hand had his decorated to appear as real, living creatures as possible claiming that their plainness was unique in itself.

The spirelight poured in through the barn doors, the music and parade having just passed by… the music…..

Under command, the wagons lurched out onto the road and turned towards the Oriental. The crowd of excited onlookers still gathered in clusters made their trip as slow as trudging through swamp mud in the Beastlands. Doc listened to their chatter, sounding more like a stirred up flock of arrow hawks, telling of the painted faces, about a man with the spike in his head and especially of the dancer. The dancer had obviously won a lot of hearts, and made the minds of many to take their jink to the carnival.

Blasse had slipped out onto the veranda to stand next to Red and watch the parade in hushed awe. She too was swept up in the mystery of the dancers movements, the graceful sway and gentle gyration being hypnotic even to her. “Wow. That was beautiful.” She spoke softly. Grimshal came rushing up through the crowd, his leathery face twisted into a smile that stretched from one pointed ear to the other. “Blasse! Blasse! Did you see! Oh I can’t wait to get to there! You’re going too aren’t you?” Grimshal was so excited that neither he nor Blasse saw Master Wenchalsey approach from behind.

Master Wenchalsey was the local head of the Golden Talon trading house, one of the more profitable merchant clans on the planes. He was a cunning man, offering his assistance to Doc to ‘help’ organize the trade market when business began to boom several years back. Wenchalsey’s help came in the fashion of bringing in ‘associates’ to establish an orderly system to keep records of the merchants and their trades, a standard for taxing the merchants profits and a garrison of Red Hand troops to ‘provide security’ to everyone who conducts business within the towns markets. He was all business, seeing nothing but the bottom line, interested in nothing but making the jink and as crooked as a weasels tail. Doc only allowed him to set up shop in New Tombstone because the job of trying to run everything in the town had begun to be too much. However Doc did not like the man in the least and had plans of his own….

Blasse’s excitement quickly faded away when she spotted the man approaching and she reflexively stepped behind Red, whimpering slightly while whishing her pappa was here.
Wenchalsey oozed arrogance as he looked Red over with disdain after casting Blasse a cold blooded glance, “I would like to speak to Mr. Holliday immediately. After last nights assault on our fair town, the Council of Merchants has demands that he should be aware of.”

Red


Red's demeanor quickly cooled as she eyed Wenschalsey, much the same as he watched her. She twisted ever so slightly on her heel to face the man and met his gaze evenly. She could feel the girl trembling behind her and it only served to reinforce her gut instinct on the man. How Doc had allowed such a man to settle in Tombstone was beyond her, but he must have had his reasons. Her gaze slid sideways to Blasse and she offered the girl the briefest of smiles before turning back to Wenschalsey.

Doc's been a bit busy this morning, but we'll be sure to tell him you stopped by. Care to wait, or should I tell him to find you somewhere?

Keshayla and Kivan, Via Markie


Kivan, his plate cleaned and pushed to the side, sat glaring mildly over a steaming cup of coffee at his partner. Keshayla, who had three empty plates to her side, was currently half-way through a fourth, with no signs of stopping.

"You're a pig," the Drow stated succinctly, sipping silently at his cup and still glowering at his partner. Without a pause, the Lycan slurped loudly at her coffee, punctuating it with a loud, content, sigh, and tore into yet another hunk of meat. "And yet you love me," she grinned at him around a mouthful. He looked fairly disgusted. "You're disgusting."

"Sweet talker."

Two plates later, Keshayla was finally satisfied, and they both sat sipping at the coffee before them. "You know, for being in a universal Bum-fuck, Nowhere, they don't do too bad with coffee," Keshayla mused over her cup. Kivan grinned faintly. "You don't suppose they'd accuse witchcraft if I tried to make an espresso, do you?"

"Ah, careful, such fine drinks may be too foreign to them," that devious grin sprouted in return. The common room was getting busy as more and more of the locals poured in for breakfast, and the two slipped easily back into Gaelic, murmuring quietly to each other at their table on the side of the room. {"So what are our plans for today?"}

{"I had entertained the notion of looking into this carnival. Some fun could do us some good, and the gods know you won't stop blaming me for us being here until I make it up to you."}

{"Damn right."}

{"Besides, we need to stop back by the healer's."}

{"What for? Are you going to try to woo our pretty little magi into forgiving our debt?"} She smirked. Kivan's way with women was...legendary. And he was a man-whore. Kivan just grinned, but said nothing, only stood gracefully and led the way back outside and down the main road to Markie's clinic.

Clara


The small breakfast is gone quickly between the two performers. Angel takes up her partner's bowl and stands up, ruffling out her feathery wings behind her. I'll drop these off on my way to see the Madame before the day gets fully underway. The painted young man picks up his pipes and plays a soaring, yet short melody on it. It's almost as if it were questioning. Angel smiles and shakes her head. "Nah, I'll walk. Flying in the daylight is still a strain on my eyes. No shade up there." As she turns to walk off towards the other wagons, she calls out over her shoulder, "Sound out if we have visitors coming!" A rolling stacatto of music answers her, laughing in it's sound.

As she makes her way through the wagons, the ever pervassive music has already filled the place without drowning everything out. She waves to a few of the other troupers already up and about as she drops off the empty bowls by the cook wagon. As she leaves to head to her next destination, a small flocks of unusual looking, deformed....things, races past her, knocking into her ankles. As they dash off, she glares at them and calls out, "Hey! Watch where you creepers are playing, hear?" With a sigh and a shake of her head, she can't help but smile at the poor little things. They are the closet the carnival has to pets yet so few are appreciated. She thinks to herself, "I'll have to go help the Organ Grinder with those later if I get time."

In no time, she reaches the old, ornate wagon she was first headed too. Hopping up the few steps, she knocks on the door and waits patiently for the gypsy inside. As she waits, she looks around the grounds out of habit, watching to know what's going on around her.

Doc


Master Wenchalsey sneered and turned his nose upward, “How quaint, “ He turned an icy glare to the woman before him and shared that look with the girl hiding close behind. “Inform Holliday that he has until first light tomorrow to comply with the Councils’ demands or we will make him comply.”

That was about the time that the old man pulled the lead wagon up along side of the Oriental. “Sounds like you’re forgetting your place Wench.” Wenchalsey turned in his saddle and hissed at the play of words with his name. Doc stood from his seat, casually brushing his coat open to reveal a sidearm and grinned, knowing that the play had struck a nerve. “This town is not under your rule. Not you, not the Council. I have the final say around here, I am the bottom line and you would do well to remember that.” One gloved hand drifted to the butt of the Thunderer, “Or shall I remind you of why.”

Wenchalsey was as red as a demons’ raw ass after being hit with holy water and was sputtering like a fish out of water. “This town would be nothing without me or the Council!! Nothing but a dust bowl in the middle of nowhere!!” Doc rested a booted foot upon the seat of the wagon, making himself comfortable for what he knew would be a long winded schpeel. “Holliday, by the gods, your time is comin’!” Wenchalsey spun around, pointing a finger and looking like a preacher in church on Sundays…. Pointing that finger straight at Blasse, “If you do not turn that waif of a girl over to the night creatures and end these raids then the Council will!!"

Red


At Wenchalsey's threat to Blasse, Red instantly stood up as tall as her light frame allowed. Without a movement there was a knife in her hand and an angry scowl on her face. It was as if a terrible force overtook the redhead. Even so, her tone was eerily calm and steady when she spoke, This child falls under my protection as well as the Old Man's. If so much as a single hair on her is touched, I'll paint this town with your blood and that of this Council. Her eyes narrowed with the threat.

You're either the simplest berk this side of the Planes or you've bigger balls than any creature I've seen.

Markie


Markie emerged once more, ushering off the latest patient, and issuing yet another warning about wearing shoes in the rubbish pile. Down the way, it seemed as though Wenchalsey was once more pitching a fit at Doc, and the young healer frowned distastefully. That slimy, weasel of a man put a bad taste in her mouth.

But more importantly, and more immediately, was the pair of wayward travelers coming down the road to her again. Their matched smirks at once set her on edge, though she wasn't entirely sure why, nor could she completely ignore the sultry tilt to Kivan's.

Markie gave them a smile as they came into range and it became clear that she had been their destination. "I'm glad you came by. I wanted to take a look at your wounds, to be sure they've closed up alright." This last she directed at Keshayla, since the Lycan had rushed off before her healing was complete.

Her gaze returned to the gathering up the street when Wenchalsey's voice rang out. She couldn't hear the words, but he was incensed, and was drawing the attention of many others on the street. Another sour look tugged at her face at the outburst. It was cruel, but she hoped that one day Doc would put him in his place in a manner the snake wouldn't forget.

Vincent


Vincent eyed the rolling of the carnival with a piqued sense of curiosity. He'd seen entertainment troupes before, but none were quite like this. None truly harbored some of the acts they flaunted, like that of demons and angels, but tugs at his senses led him to believe this group actually might. He chewed his lip and payed little mind to the crowds forming. His eyes followed what felt to him as a succubus running alibi as a dancer, and doing quite a good job of luring both men and women after her. A smirk crossed his lips and he packed his pipe again, lighting it just as the mercenary pair came out in their curious gear again. His smile was given in earnest to the wolf, before a respectful tip of the head, both to her and the Drow.

It was when the newcomer arrived that his heavy gun was shifted in his lap, the barrel pointed, and then the gun lifted when he began making threats. Finally, it seemed, at the very end of his shift, some action might happen. He stood full, stretched, stiff from a whole night in the chair, and sauntered cloddingly until he stood beside Red, his eyes cast down to the girl, whereupon meeting them, she would receive a reassuring nod, and then a smile, before those eyes would return to the man standing between his gun, Red's knife, and Holliday's guns. Now wasn't this fun?

Doc


The tension in the air was stiffling, nearly suffocating. The attention of those nearby had been redirected from the excitement of the arriving carnival to the stand off between the old boss man and the merchant lord. Two of the newcomers had made their stand to protect the young girl as Tain pulled his wagon up on the other side of Wenchalsey, eyeing the merchant lord warily.

The tension was suddenly charged when Doc began to chuckle, the sound startling the merchant lord. “Look around you Wenchalsey and choose your words carefully for if you ever threaten my baby girl again, there won’t be enough of a corpse left to worry about burying in Boot Hill.” Wenchalsey glanced about him, noticing the pair on the veranda shielding the girl, Doc to his left and Tain to his right.

Tain certainly had no love for the merchant lord. Wenchalsey tried to have him thrown into Carceri for not delivering a shipment of soul gems to a yugoloth, instead Tain ‘lost’ them in a game of chance to an astral diva. Granted a deal is a deal, a contract is a contract, however Doc paid Wenchalsey the price of the shipment in stingers… which the yugoloth found rather amusing and forced Wenchalsey to eat the cost himself.

Wenchalsey knew he wouldn’t win this fight at this moment but turned his steed away from the gathering, glaring at Doc. “If you do not meet the demands of the Council, Holliday, then the Council will act in its’ own best interest.” Doc was growing tired of this non-sense and was not about to allow this blowhard, barmey berk to ruin what was promising to be a wonderful day, “Wenchalsey, you go back and tell your Council that I am shutting them down. You jink grubbing cross traders can pack your wares and be out of my town by first light tomorrow. Otherwise I will be forced to run you all out of my town and I won’t be so forgiving about it.”

Doc


Wenchalsey glared at Doc with eyes more full of hate than a baatezu’s heart, “You’ll regret this Holiday. Mark my words, you will regret this.” He hissed as he spurred his horse back towards the market ward.

Doc watched until the pompous ass was out of sight and sighed. He turned his gaze back to Red and Vincent and shrugged, “I guess that we shouldn’t be expecting to see him at the Carnival then.” Blasse stepped out from behind her protectors, looking to her papa with a wicked glint in her eye, “Maybe we can convince the carnival to haul him somewhere far away.” The old man laughed, “Perhaps we can little one, perhaps we can.” He looked to Red and Vincent, nodding down the road that ran up beside the Oriental, “If you need me for anything I’ll be unloading these wagons up at Boot Hill.”

Blasse gasped and stomped her foot, “But papa what about the carnival?” Doc looked at her in mock shock before giving her a wink, “After hearing Wenchalsey ranting, I don’t think it would be a very good idea for you to be running off by yourself, do you?” Her world must have been coming to an end for she immediately shift into ‘puppy dog’ mode that she knew he couldn’t resist. It was visible that Doc had to struggle with his decision, almost melting back into the wagon bench but coming back with a steel mask, “No Blasse, not this time. I don’t want you wandering around alone until I know the Council has left town. Just wait until I get these wagons unloaded then we’ll go together.” But Blasse was as stubborn and hard headed as her papa, trying one last time to change his mind by subtly sliding her bottom lip out, “But papa…”

Markie, Keshayla and Kivan


It was difficult to not become involved in the goings on of the town, especially with all the lovely smells of confrontation filling the air, but Keshayla managed to keep her back to the raised voices behind her and her stance easy, even if her partner could count every tense muscle in her body. His own posture was relaxed as well, though they were both only a hair's breadth away from a weapon at any given moment, just in case. But the (one-sided) shouting match came to an end, the instigator rode off in a huff, and the pair climbed the steps as the air lost a bit of it's charge.

Markie sighed softly, watching Wenchalsey gallop away in a cloud of dust, and released the breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She also released her grasp on the railing around her porch, and offered an apologetic smile to the mercenaries. "It seems that you two have come during some exciting times..." If a possible civil war between the council and Doc could be properly labled as 'exciting.' "Please, come in, and I'll have a look at you." The healer held the door open for them, and prompted them further through the second door. "Go ahead and strip down, I'll be right in."

The poor girl. She really was making it easy on them. The two shared an identical look, full of mischief and a grin that slowly spread, but they did as they were told. Sauntered into the infirmary where Markie had tended to them the day before, stripped down to nothing but their boots (though even in this, they were well armed) and sprawled out each on a table, exposed to the world, and lounged like a pair of cats, and sporting matching Cheschire grins.

Markie had seen many things in her relatively short life. Even so, nothing really prepared you for walking into a room to find two people lounging in the buck, clearly waiting for your arrival. She couldn't help the soft gasp or the falter in her steps, and she sighed and continued over to the counter and washed her hands. She could practically hear their smugness at her reaction. But, they needn't have the last laugh. She moved to Keshayla first, and pressed frigid hands to her skin, poking around where the wounds were still healing. "Well, if I had known you two wanted a complete exam, I would have prepared the enemas."

"Oh, not for me, but I'm certain Kivan won't turn you down," Keshayla grinned, trying not to squirm under the cold hands. "He likes those kinds of things." Kivan chuckled, a low, husky sound, and grinned wider. "Sorry to disappoint, luv, but I don't take anything internally. Though I'm more than happy to help fill an order."

Markie smiled pleasantly, and rolled Keshayla to her stomach to get at her back, pleased to see that her natural healing was catching up. But, just to help things along, she produced an oil mixed of honey and mint, and rubbed it deep into her skin, resulting in a rather pleasant massage.

"Oi...Kivan...I'm in love," the lycan fairly purred into the soft padding at her face. "Can I keep her? I promise to feed her every day. I'll even take her for walks and clean up her messes." Kivan grinned and watched the healer's hands, and pondered idly what it would take to get the same treatment. So long as they were racking up a tab, they might as well enjoy themselves. "And where will you keep her, in your tiny little apartment? You have enough trouble keeping your fish fed regularly."

"The we can keep her at your place. You have lots of spare rooms. I'll even let you borrow her from time to time."

"Are you sure? I may just steal her away from you once I show her how much fun I can be." He grinned again, appreciating the view as Markie leaned forward to work at Keshayla's back. "Only because you're a slut." Keshayla grunted, then sighed happily and melted into the table when a stubborn knot popped and relaxed.

Markie wiped her hands on a towel and grinned. "Do I get no say in this? Or shall I just draw up a list of my services and what I charge, plus costs of living?"

"Are you full service?" Kivan asked with a smirk, now lounging on his side, head propped up by a hand and his gaze wandering wontonly across her form.

Markie repaid the favor, though her look was decidedly disinterested (which was a chore half the time, and a challenge the rest). "That depends on how well you'll pay me," she smirked, and tossed the towel at him. "You can cover up. I took care of you yesterday."

Keshayla grinned at him, still a bit hazy and happy. "See? She likes me better."

Red


Red sheathed her knife as quickly and silently as it had come into her hand. She glanced sideways at Vincent as Wenchalsey left. A lift of her chin and a quick smirk told him she'd been grateful enough for his backup.

As the wind kicked up a cloud of dust in Wenchalsey's wake, Red pulled a few loose strands of hair from her eyes watching Doc and Blasse closely. Why don't you let me take her on over to the Carnival? I'll keep an eye on her and out of your hair for a bit.

Doc


Doc saw the pleading look in Blasse’s eyes and grinned as he fished through his coat pocket, producing a small, ornate key. He looked at Red and tossed the key towards her as he said, “Take some jink out of the wall safe in my office, make sure to get enough for her, you and Vincent if he is going as well.”

Anyone and everyone within earshot froze in their tracks and stared in wide eyed wonder… Doc let the key out of his possession while he still existed! But with a harsh look around from the old man, they quickly regained their senses and moved along with their business.

The old man returned his attention to Red and shrugged, “I’ll catch up to you all as soon as I’m done unpacking these crates.”



From within the vordo Angel stood before came a weathered, gentle voice, “Come in my child, I have been expecting you.”

Red


Red snatched the key from the air and eyed Doc curiously. His trust in her was noted and the smile she issued proof of her appreciation. As she turned to go back inside the Oriental and to Doc's office, she touched the young girl on the arm, Come on. Let's see what kind of excitement we can ferret out before the Old Man catches up to us.

Grinning at the prospect of cheering up Blasse and seeing the girl shed a smile of her own, Red paused at Vincent's elbow, You comin', too?