^{"There ain't no rest for the wicked,
Money don't grow on trees
I got  bills to pay, I got mouths to feed
And there ain't nothing in this world for free.
Oh no I can't slow down
I can't hold back
though you know I wish I could.
Oh no there ain't no rest for the wicked
until we close our eyes for good."
-- Cage The Elephant, "Ain't no Rest For The Wicked"}

Midday, April 9th, 1879. A stagecoach trail 4 miles from Blackthorn, Texas, CSA

The stage jostles and rattles as it speeds down the trail. Occasionally, it splashes through puddles left by last night's storm. The humidity is oppressive this close to the coast, and even fanning doesn't help much.

The three occupants of the stage stare out at the miles and miles of empty plain that pass them by.

One is a thin, weak looking tinhorn.  His hair is black, with a general effort made to appropriately part and comb it down.  A bit pale and sallow-cheeked, his face and lips even have a sickly bluish tint.  His eyes are dark and he tends to stare, blinking not quite often enough. Occasionally an unhealthy coughing fit rattles his frame.

One is an attractive young woman with a trim figure, (currently rendered even more trim by her corset), long reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. Her hair is currently worn up, somewhat hidden by a pale yellow bonnet, and she's wearing a white blouse an a full, pale yellow skirt.

And one is a petite Asian woman with raven-black hair, staring at the world through wary half lidded eyes of emerald green. Dressed in a traditional outfit that hangs loosely, she regards the world from beneath a large, conical hat.

Eventually, the silence of the ride, broken only by the creak of the stage's wheels and the clop of hooves, becomes a bit too oppressive, and one of them starts to speak...

[[OOC: Have at it! Introduce yourselves, have a bit of a chat before I spring the next thing on you...]]

"I really do hate stagecoaches," offers the tinhorn, Virginian accent much in evidence.  It might be an attempt at conversation.  If he was going to add anything else, it is lost amidst a wet coughing.  He does politely cover his mouth with a handkerchief though.

it was enough to break a smirk on the asian woman's rough lips, she had been thinking the same thing, though the man's cough didn't do too much for the slowly settling motion sickness from riding in a coach for so long. The humidity she could handle, but the jarring ride within a closed in box was making her uneasy. she shuffled her feet a bit, wooden sandels clunking against the floor.

" Damn straight d'here, padre.." She muttered, her accent was frankly distinct and thick, her english was good and clear, but being from Shan Fan and western born made an interesting mix. " Though, what's startin ta lay on me is a curious thought... What are two people like y'all headin' to Blackthorn for...?"
This message was last edited by the player at 02:04, Sat 03 July 2010.

Katy had been brought up to understand that staring was rude, and she'd done her best not to stare at the strange-looking woman sharing the stagecoach with her, but she'd been unable to resist stealing surreptitious glances at her. She'd never even seen someone from Shan Fan before. Her accent, on the other hand, she hardly noticed - for all she knew, most people out here spoke like that.

On the other hand, the sickly Virginian reminded her too much of how she imagined... never mind.

"It's what the ticket said," she replied with a smile.

The question brings a very confused expression to the gentleman.  He pats at his coat for a moment and pulls out his ticket.  After checking, he exclaims, "Well damn...  I thought this was the coach to Beaumont.  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.  This always happens to me..." His bleak tone says it all:  He really did hate stagecoaches.  Putting the ticket away again, Augustus began to consider his options,  "Is Blackthorne a decent-sized town?  A hotel I hope?"

The stage rattles and creaks as it continues down the dusty trail.

[Private to Gangatsu:
Gangatsu, here's what you might know about Blackthorn:

1. It's a mining town (or was, at one point).

2. It's not all that large - most recent maps don't even have the place marked.

3. Zhang's message asking you to meet him there wasn't very specific. You could be headed there just to meet him and compare notes, or you could be meeting him there because there's a problem he wanted your help on. For all you know, you could be riding into a ghost town overrun with zombies.]

Strange woman indeed, her hair was in a bun under her straw hat, only two pieces of hair stray down and the lower half of her face could be seen, just even with the turn of her slightly flat nose. A katana was shealthed and with a tether from the but of the pummel to her wrist, making sure it had not bounced away from her. THe white lady made a vague little funny that seemed to slip past her notice, though a nod came from her.

" Do objects talk ta ya often?" Gangatsu almost sounded curious, though a smirk pulled her lips at the playful woman. The distressed man spoke up after finding his ticket.

" Hotel.. Perhaps. I heard o it lightly. Some kinda ol miner town... Listen.. I know it'll sound queer, but when we arrive I will leave first. Just incase this town be a little shady, ya hear.."

"Shady you say?"

Augustus seems relieved at first, but slowly realizes the alternate meaning.  Sighing heavily, he slumps back in his seat a bit, "Of course...  I would be headed to a /shady/ place..."  Despite the woman's sword, he does add, "But really, miss, I should be the first off the coach if it is such a town.  For the safety of you both."  He isn't being snide, just attempting to be a gentleman.  Of course, its followed  by another gurgling cough into his handkerchief.  Some protector.

 "...."  She was silent, yet her lips parted slightly at such a responce. this was a sickly man whom could fall over dead from too much dusty in his congested chest would still insist upon leaving first. That was just. So. Like a gentile.  One of her hands lifted from the cuffed of her long scarlet sleeve, her pushed the conical hat up a bit and honestly looked at the made with emerald eyes, they wavered slightly in studying him as a hacking cough took over.

She looked a little bit older then Katy, there were no laugh lines or marks upon her face as if she stressed or smiled. Despite her being a bit cute though average, there was something about her that was.. Ominous. Least until she barked out a shortly lived laugh that lasted only five seconds, even that was a almost dreadfully mad sound.

" Oh my.. Pardon, ain't you I laugh at, but yer gentry is touchin, Sir."  her stiff rough lip gives a faint smirk that slowly died off. " Tis Gangatsu. Y'all got names...?"