Still detached and barely listening he speaks without breaking his gaze from the window.
"Gargantuan horned beasts of ebony that can breath streams of corrosive acid at will. Selfish, scheming and manipulative. Terrible creatures that can wreck as much havoc as any other creature. In their own sick way though, breathtaking. When it comes to dragons, I'd rather be face to face with a Red. No offense, Master Parker. The great reds tend to crave respect more than fear. Show them respect and they will leave you be. The blacks tend to look at anyone who works for the greater good as something that needs to be eliminated."

Why thank you my seasoned friend. He carefully reached for the sidearm, with the grace of an amateur he unloads to check the clip and inspect the piece as only a novice can.

With the comment about the dragons, Wilford could only offer a large grin at first. I know nothing of dragons, I only know of the color and title from a game I played as a kid. Hell, for all I know their very real and just as I described them. In fact, my buddy here.. he nods towards Rafael.. just "informed" me that dragons are real in my world- a concept, to be honest, is shocking as hell to me. How such large and dangerous things can live unseen in my over-populated and.. He makes finger quotes for the next word.. advanced world is beyond my pale knowledge.

He goes back to looking at the weapon, re-inserting the clip. I have very little in collateral i can offer you until I return. Would a credit card or drivers license sit well with you? Both are very important in New York.

((OOC: Pink was hard for me to see the difference in the text so I can only assume the same for yall. No one is using brown and it pops rather nicely for me, so I shall stick with it. EDIT, someone was useing brown. so i try this now.))
This message was last edited by the player at 03:53, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

Rafi listened to Aramendel's description of dragons on his world with interest.

"The Dragons on Earth have some similarities to those you describe but they aren't... 'color-coded.' The Great Wyrms, the greatest of the dragons are creatures of immense power, magic and arrogance. They're not evil though, they don't deliberately go out of their way to destroy good or hurt humanity. They just don't care. They're all damned dangerous: just approaching one can be the last thing you do" He grinned at Wilford,

"Of course, in the 'modern' world, you might already have met one. Some have the power to shift form, to walk among humans without anyone noticing." He paused, looking momentarily sad for the moment,

"But most no longer walk the world. Some sleep, deep within the earth; others have left for the realms of magic and of faerie. I kinda miss them."

Yana joins Aramendel in the tavern.  Hoisting her pack higher onto her shoulder, she walks to Boone's table.
I'll be back when I can, Boone.  Take care of yourself.

She gives him a quick, firm hug.

"I wish you all the best of luck with your hunt," commented the ranger as he broke his gaze from the window and looked over the crowd.  With a steady stride he headed out the front door of the inn, briefly placing his hand on Yana's shoulder, and giving a nod to the bard as he passed.

//front porch//

He shakes his head in response to Wilfords offer.  "Unless you have something rare or unique to barter it isn't really important as long as I get it back eventually."

"Oh, I know dragons.  The ones I know tended toward the intelligent, manipulative and sorcerous.  One of the members of the League I belong to is one.  She can shapeshift and is a pretty respectable mage although she is probably the third in power behind Lomark and...another"

He adjusts his uniform jacket and checks the sword belt as he continues.  "I've never seen her breath anyting besides fire though."

Garrett continues shifting devices and flasks into different pockets as he continues.  Reading a label one this or that and shuffling items into his pack.  "I ran into several dragons and at one time was known for killing a number of them.  The League was hired to take out one called March.  He was black but I don't think the corellation with color and such applied.  I think it probably had more to do with his necromantic abilities."

Sword and gear secured with a few flasks on his belt under his jacket he sat down as he continued the story.  "We managed to acquire his soul but had to bargain the gem that held it back to the blackgaurd for other more important information at the time.  I wanted to boobytrap its souljar but my companions overode that idea thinking he would know and not provide the data we needed.  Later we found me entire entourage massacred..."  Other words in a dialect and volume that are clearly unflattering but unclear.  He takes a deep breath and pats his sword.

"I knew everyone of those men.  I hand picked and trained each of them.  And he killed them effortlessly, en-mass.  I don't take dragons lightly or have any prejudice against their kind but neither do I grant them mercy or the benefit of the doubt."
This message was last edited by the player at 06:56, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

When Yana hugs him, Boone kisses her on the cheek and says be careful, okay? He looks at Garrett and says you have unlimited ammo, too? I use hard-air bullets. What do you use? he says, showing off his ammo clip rejuvenator.

He looks at Wilford and says I'll join this posse too. I'm an experienced backwoodsman, and a fair hand in a fight, as well he says with a wry grin.

Well buckaroo Boone, I would be glad to have you on board. Exciting isn't it? Like a drug. Trolls, spawns of hell, faeries, the fountain  of youth, lost Atlantis, Jack the Ripper, or maybe just some crazy old lady with  too many cats could be lurking behind every shrub. A waste of time, or the discovery of a lifetime have equal chances of suffering our gaze. A glorious gamble.

His eyes popped open, and he recalled his one and only trophy. Wilford had only ever killed one person in his life, and that man provided the first real proof of the supernatural. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a rosary bead. The trinket was made of wooden beads and a pewter crucifix, but that wasn't what made it special. The rosary beads were stained with a deep rust color and always held a slimy texture. Whenever they touched flesh small splotch of congealed blood would remain. Upon closer inspection the body of Christ was just that, in so much that there was no head. I never learned how to use it, but I have seen it in action. A serial killer kept it wrapped around his fingers like brass knuckles. When I saw him use it he had a poor girl tied and gagged and he spit upon it before pressing it upon her forehead. He began to look uneasy at the memory, his eyes even began to water. She began to show signs of stigmata, only the blood flowed from the wounds and soaked into his skin. We believed it either made him stronger, or possibly t-t-too-took her soul. I have kept it to keep others from using it and in hopes learn how to destroy it, even fire didn't work. Perhaps you know how to destroy it or can do a better job of protecting it than I. Would you consider a barter?

Everyman has his struggles with morality when fear is thrown in as a heady mixture. truth be told he did not care what the man did with it, at least he wouldn't be using it in his world. He felt a pang of guilt for this line of thought, but didn't back down from the offer.

((OOC: For those with magic it is an unholy relic created and used by a Slasher, a supernatural serial killer. It transfers health if used lightly, and syphons portions of the victims soul in order to grant the user some of the victims knowledge and memories. It can only be destroyed if immersed in a mixture of holy water anda few drops of a virgin's blood. He obtained it during his first "story."))
This message was last edited by the player at 08:38, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

Mason shakes his head slightly as he leads the group out onto the Porch.  He is surprised that some of these ego's fit into the room.


<<<To Porch>>>

Scott frowned.  First it was at Jethro for playing the Beatles.  Great, he traveled to God knows where and he still had to listen to them!  Gesh, man, not you too. He said to the musician in dismay.

But then listening to the others as he finished eating, became more distracting. Distracting enough he barely noticed the pretty women leaving.  Maybe there were more upstairs? But the on going conversation made no sense.

Whoa dudes? He spoke up looking around. First off, just what do you guys think is out there? And if you think bad s*** is out there, then why are we going?  Second, don't you guys feel pain? There's no reason to fight things that aren't threatening you.  Don't get me wrong, someone threatens my world, I'm gonna kick their as..butt, but... He shook his head, but there was something bothering him more.  What the he... I know there's a lotta weird and... he glanced at Parker, weird stuff here, but, third, what on Earth is a hard air bullet?  Don't the rules of physics apply here?  And if not... then why aren't we flying? Cause, man, that's what I want to do. He shook his head, and then started to wonder if the dragon could fly.  Didn't all dragon's fly?  They did in the movies.

Nessa was doing her best to ignore the others in the room.  It seemed not much had changed during her nap and subsequent time upstairs.  She had the rifle that Mason had offered and focused her attention on that.  It was different, of course, then things she was familiar with, but at the same time, the basic princples were the same.

With everyone ready, she followed out of the tavern.  Seeing Mason shake his head, she was thankful she'd tuned out.  No doubt the troups were trying to each spell their names again.

[To the Porch]

While he smiled broadly at Wilford's enthusiasm, when the man pulled out his "relic," Rafi frowned. He listened rather more carefully to the next part of Wilford's explanation, beginning to suspect something of the nature of the thing.

"May I?" He touched the rosary lightly and grimaced, pulling his hand back with a little shake. "Man... personally I'd find that thing a vat of holy water. It's infernally tainted. Nasty." He smiled at Wilford, "If you stopped whoever wielded this, you did the world a favor."

He turned as Scott began to protest, smiling sympathetically at the young man. He was not surprised at the reaction. This place was a lot to process.

"There many be nothing out there, Scott." He shrugged, "Personally, I'll be quite happy for the bad s**t to be taking a day off, but... " his eyes shone and he grinned, "... isn't the finding out fun? We're not going to hunt down innocent creatures or beings... " He shot a look to Gallus, "... just being prepared in case anything attacks us." He took a long swig of his ale.

"If you want to be able to fly, that can be arranged." He raised his eyebrows questioningly at the young man.

He ran his hand over the sword and his eyes began to glow and he looked over the rosary.  "I agree, the taint is strong of some necromantic force.  I would have to divine more on it later regarding handling and disposal though.  As of now it appears you are probably the best one to hold on to it."

He waves a hand at the 45 caliber Wilford now held, "The clip is enchanted and continuously replaces the last three rounds.  This also affectively limits the rate of fire.  The side-affect is that there never is a shell casing or bullet to remove from the victim since it vanishes about a second after impact."

Parker looked at these humans and their preparations to go walk around the woods.

"No one that I have spoken to has had difficulty in getting here.  No one encountered monsters that hindered their passage.  When I was a child, the matron had a saying... 'Those who go looking for trouble, will find it.'  I sensed powerful magic out in the woods but no malice.  But there is also no malice in a dragon, when it sleeps."

Parker was starting to like this Scott human.  He seemed quicker in many ways.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:41, Sat 04 Apr 2009.

The boy sighed.  It was wrong when the lizard was making sense and the humans weren't.  Hey, being prepared. I know. I was a Boy Scout. Though granted not for long.  Authority and structure didn't suit him. I always carry...protection. He emphasised the word, then leaned closer to Rafael, But frankly, so far, the woods have been rather ... nice.  The big scary dude has not. The big scary dude has already said 'kill, kill, kill' and these other guys are gearing up their weapons.  Where I come from, that's not a exploration, that's a hunt.

Scott had done his share of hunting.  Deer, rabbit...things you felt bad about shooting and then ate anyway and tasted good.  Yeah, sure he was planning on talking to a recruiter in the next year, but THAT was to protect his country, his family, his beliefs.  Not to go hunting humans.  He thought of Parker's earlier words and decided if the bird HAD been human.  WHICH he couldn't really wrap his mind around anyway, that it was different.  If someone changed him into a deer, then he'd be a deer and that was just life.

Rafael acknowledged Scott's comment with a shrug, leaning in a little to mutter,

"My trip through the woods was quiet enough too. I certainly plan on it being an exploration... " He glanced at those preparing weapons,

"If anyone or anything starts getting a little over-zealous against anything that isn't attacking us, then we can deal with that." He smiled, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He was quite serious. He was beginning to get concerned too that this didn't turn into a bug hunt.

"Nah, it'll just be a pleasant stroll in the woods."

Boone shows Scott the little device on his belt. It's merely super-chilled air in the form of bullets. After being fired, it evaporates to liquid, then gaseous form, in the space of seconds, long enough to do its damage and depart. It's powered by a micro-fusion reactor. Looking around at the group, he says I'm just going out to look around. I love spending time in the woods. Sometimes I hunt, sometimes I practice tracking. But usually because I feel more at home away from civilization. Looking back at Scott, he continues his explanation I designed these automatics to take a variety of clip sizes. The hard-air rounds are the only easily-replenished ones I have, and I can fire about 10 accurately every 2 seconds.

Jethro began to just putz around on the the strings, doing a freeform blues improv.
"I've studied more than enough physics to know how impossible that is, Boone." Regretting not getting that Ph.D. when he had the chance, figured everything he learned and worked with before the revolutions should do.
"Assuming the air it uses is normal earth air, 78% Nitrogen, 19% Oxygen and the remaining 3% being other free gases, you are super cooling it to 2 Kelvin, at least. The moment the they leave the cooling chamber they would begin to sublimate. Causing their size to change at random dependent on the external environment. Anyone who has ever had a gun in their hands know that a gun can not fire a round that is not the right size, effectively at least."

Speeding up the tempo of his playing, Jethro continued, "The mass of the rounds would be a problem too. There is a limited density with supercooled nitrogen. Even with the critical point where it becomes a superfluid, the round could only be so dense, thus limiting the mass of the bullet, and consequently its momentum."

With another key and tempo switch, the guitar started singing in a dark tenor.
"If you speak the truth about your Micro-fusion reactor, kudos. I spent 2 years working alongside the top physicists in the world to achieve an efficient macro-fusion reactor. My research and experiments were only drop in the pool for meeting the requirements to make something so powerful.  But if you are wearing something similar to the theories we have debated in my time and place I would tell you to leave now and run far away if i did not feel so safe here. A helium fusion reactor emits extreme levels of alpha radiation, along with the potential for a critical mass breach without proper cooling.  If that little box is made of some sort of unobtainuim, even the slightest leak would mean Chernobyl in your pants. Or even worse, Hiroshima."

With that, he plays a sharp, bouncy tune akin to the solo in "Karn Evil: 1st impression pt.2"
"Unless your Earth is so different then mine that all of this is moot."

Scott shook his head.  This was why he rarely hung out with the guys at school. 'Over zealousness' as Rafi put it.

It never failed him,  if he said, 'hey guys,' let's go push old man Thompson's car into the parking space across the lot.'  A funny, harmless prank as far as he was concerned, that MIGHT get him a detention, but that's about it.  Some other jackass would then say, oh yeah, let's put it on it's side.  Then another, would put it on it's roof, and in a matter of seconds, while each jackass tried to out jackass the next guy, it would end up with the stupid car on fire and the cheerleaders roastong marshmellows all around it.  And who would get screwed in the end?  Well, besides Thompson?

Exactly.

Well that's dumb. Scott muttered in response to Boone. How could you rely on something that was going to be greatly effected by factors like weather that you couldn't control?  I'll take good ol' Earth guns, thank you very much.   He hunched down in his chair, folding his arms up over his chest.

He now wasn't sure what to do.  Staying lacked adventure.  Going seemed like a stupid idea.  And while normally, he didn't actually see the stupid idea until after the fact, he couldn't help but wonder if the fact that he was seeing it prior to said act, meant it was beyond stupid and bordering on insane.

Well, he now understood why all those adverture books he read, the main character always wanted to work alone.

Gallus smiled as they talked about weapons. Pulling his own pistol he removes one of the bolts from the clip and shows it. It is nearly 3/4 of a foot long. "Bolter rounds, favored weapon of choice for Space Marines. A 75 caliber round, rocket propelled and mass reactive. It something and it die."

"It would be nice to assume that the woods aren't dangerous but the last time I went for a walk thousands of wraiths attacked us so I think that is a somewhat erroneous assessment."

"More importantly is that fact that this place is ringed with invisible portals to dozens if not hundreds or thousands of random planes.  Based on worlds I know of the very existence of this place is dangerous to the rest of the cosmos.  Finding these dangerous portals seems a prudent idea or at least determining that there is a mechanism in this place that limits or controls it.  Again the wraith army comes to mind leading me to believe there is no such limit or control."  It wasn't an impassioned speech more of a comment.

Rafi didn't have a clue about physics and even less than a clue about the physics of weaponry and he so let himself drift just a little as the conversation went in that direction. Not that he minded. It gave him the opportunity to take a few long draws on his cigar and finish his last drink. Crouching down, he then reached into his duffel, pulling out a few things to stuff into the pockets of his coat; stuffing a few things from his coat into his duffel. Not of them looked in the least bit weapon-like. As he stood again, he noticed that Scott had started to look even more freaked out. He would be too with all the guns on display and tales of wraiths. He approached and crouched down next to him,

"Don't feel you have to go on this trip if you don't want, Scott," He looked carefully at the young man, "But if you do, you can keep me company as I keep these guys in line."

Yana leaves Boone's side, somewhat reluctantly, and heads out.
=================> to front porch

Boone looks a bit abashed and admits to Jethro I didn't create the thing. A friend of mine created the technology and showed me how to keep it repaired. He assured me it was perfectly safe, and gave me the explanation as to how it worked. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he handed me a bunch of hooey- this guy once created a miniature sun to power his laboratory. He probably used some strange science to make the device, and told me the 'hard-air' story to put things in terms I could understand. Truth is, I don't know how it works; I just know it provides me a limitless supply of bullets. Non-specialized bullets, that is.
He then turns to Scott in fact, I'm considered an expert shot with traditional firearms and am familiar with most small arms and heavy weaponry. I just like using guns I built myself - they're perfectly balanced for me.

Jethro return the guitar to his case and switched off the amplifier on his hip. His fingers were tired and voice needed a bit of a rest. He took his plate from the bar and sat down at at his little booth.

Starting to eat, he looked up. "I'm sorry to call to light your device, but I've spent the better part of my life studying physics beyond what a normal people ever care about.  Too many hours working in labs around the world trying to solve the conundrums of near zero energy systems and fusion power. It was a passion of mine before the revolutions and I could not let such things go to light, nor could I accept that the work that I was doing could have went into make a weapon so perfect for crimes of passion. Just like that one," pointing over to the .45 now in Wilford's possession.
 
"My field work was already turned into a tool for crimes of war, I rather not give people means for pain from passion."