As the Sables crowd the Rangers out of the audience space Temush nods to Nehanda and says "When you find the need..." making no particular effort to make himself heard over the hubbub and not waiting for any acknowledgement.

Amara left, seeing no wisdom in provoking the guards. Her head held high she left saying nothing to Khan or Queen, merely stepping in at Kobals side.

The  Rangers quickly find themselves outside the camp, wet through and with nothing to do.

The sound of laughter drifts over from the nearby shanty town of Badside, the wind carrying the smell of drink, food and unwashed bodies...

Henal walks out with as much dignity as he can find and when the smell wafts over he finally speaks. "Looks like that is where we need to be to fulfil our mission. Now I really want to get Delenda back to show them what we can do".

Melock nods, "It would be the best way to win them over." His stomach rumbles when he smells the food, "Lets head over there," Melock points to Badside, "Even if we can't find him, we can get something to eat."

As they left the camp Amara gripped her javelin tightly. There would be a reckoning some day.

Would I be right in thinking life with you is always like this, never a dull moment! Agreeing with Melock he adds And yes, food would be great.
This message was last edited by the player at 08:41, Wed 20 June 2018.

Melock laughs, "That was nothing, normally they attack the moment they see us." he grins, "I think living here has changed you more than you realize."

It's now drizzling, but despite the weather theres a fair few folk out and about literally soaking up the day. Dirt and dust flows down the nearby walls of the Big Rubble, to splash down on the ramshackle buildings and tents at it's base.

Dogs bark at the Rangers as they ride in, several snapping at their mounts' heels whilst dodgy looking folk watch from beneath leaky verandahs and open doorways. All look as if they could do with standing in the rain for a while as each and everyone of them are filthy and with the pinched look of folk who could do with a good meal or two.

Ahead stands one of the larger buildings, outside of which are six zebras their reins looped over a long wooden rail. Adjusting one of their saddles is a tall man dressed in an assortment of leather armour. He looks up as the Rangers approach, a wooden sign creaking from the wind above his head, depicting a Bison carcass.

His eyes narrow suspiciously, but he turns to look at the inn's doorway as a burst of raucous laughter comes from within.

Seeing the suspicion in the mans eye, Melock smiles warmly, "Greatings of peace stranger," he beckons him closer, "we're looking for someone, I wonder if you could help us, we'll make it worth your while." Melock jingles a couple of coins in his hand.

For his part Ohanzee asks the stranger "Safe enough to leave the mounts tethered here?"

Amara looked at the stranger with the sides of her eyes "We can reward those who look after our things." she left it unsaid what might happen to those who don't letting it hang in air as an implication.

The man's look changes to that of confusion, then anger "Piss off do I look like some sort of servant or something?"




"Like I give a shit about your mounts nomad?" he says pushing his wide brimmed hat further back on his head.


"By the fucking gods of the bastard moon are you serious? Now fuck off the bar is closed."

and with that he turns and swaggers into the Saloon, sword slung low on his hips  as his spurs ring on the wooden floorboards.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:03, Fri 22 June 2018.

Hoskar stands by his mount, tying a rein loosely to the nearest post. He spits expansively onto the ground to his left and grinds the phlegm into the earth with his boot.
Bad attitude. Bad side. Worth a lesson in manners if we had time he grates.

His hands twitch at this sides as he sticks his thumbs in his belt.

I assume we're going in he adds, striding slowly and deliberately forward.

Henal dismounts and lights a roll of tobakeh to smoke before he goes in. He swings his cloak with the elephant motif back to give free access to draw his sword and walks towards the doors, pushing them roughly aside.

As they approach the settlement Stomp and Peevt begin an eerie duet that reminds Temush of an old Ostrich Grasslands tune that he as not previously whistled whilst amongst the Rangers. Ohanzee, the local dogs and a pack of dusky hawks all extemporise the unsettling melody before they reach the bar.

https://youtu.be/LQGGQ-FCe_w

Melock swings his right leg over Stinky's back and slides down his left flank. He settles his poncho on his shoulders, "I reckon we should teach that low life some manners," Melock cracks his knuckles and follows the others in to the bar.

Amara pushed through the saloon doors throwing her shawl over her shoulder to grant a clear view of her axe riding on her hip, with her javelin in her hand. The music and conversation in the bar stopped. She looked around the bar slowly, before her eyes rested on her target. She walked slowly to the bar, the room silent as her boots ounded on the floorboards. She looked at the bartender and said "A measure of your strongest sipping khumiss for me and my friends....and for anyone caring to join us in a toast." she turned around to face the gang "To the no good, down low, dirty idiotic scum offbreed of a broo, Hagran the Dirty and all of the cheating, robbing morons who follow him. I would explain the insults to them, but I don't have the season to explain it in words simple enough for them to understand it."

Ohanzee groans "If we've got time? He's one of the ones we're here for you plonker!"

He rifles the remains of his weed pouch and pops the dregs in his mouth thinking that it'd make a good mess when spat in someone's drink.

His mouth waters sure enough, and by the time he's skid from the zebra's back he is getting a hit from the weed. He smiles "Pretty good actually" then fixes a frown on his face and wrapping the reins around the rail swaggers up to the doors  stepping through just after Amara's words have thrown the bar into relative silence.

He swings his poncho back, rain dripping from it onto the floor of the place and the silence is broken as the wind picks up outside stiring some wind chimes into life. https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=-LyEvuULDFs

Spitting enough of the brown slimy saliva as is needed to talk her scans the room for the one who just entered "Not my mount, it's yours that's getting nicked!"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:50, Sat 23 June 2018.

There's no other patrons in the saloon except for seven startled looking men and the scared and quivering barkeep.

At Amara's words a bottle and glasses are placed on the bar "On the house" whispers the owner just before he drops out of sight behind the counter.

Gathering their wits the seven Royal Pavis guards begin to rise from their seats, slowly spreading out as hands waver over dagger handles in their belts...

"And who the hell are you?" demands one, more than likely their leader Jobal Lanza, the runes of Sky, Death and Disorder marked upon his Zebra leathers.

To punctuate his words he spits heavily into a copper bowl at his feet, the sound of it hitting ringing like a bell.
This message was last edited by the GM at 06:53, Sat 23 June 2018.

Amara winked at the bartender, placing her javelin and axe on the top of the bar. "Who we are... well, that is a good question. Good enough to beat you without or without weapons for one thing....but draw on us, and you won't leave this place except in a wooden box." she lifted the cup into the air "The Garhound clan sends its regards in the form of me and my friends."
This message was last edited by the GM at 08:40, Sat 23 June 2018.

Ohanzee steps forward looking at the copper bowl by the mans feet and he spits his weed infused saliva too, but his lands directly on the mans foot.

Melock raises his glass as well, "Regulators," he coughs,"I mean Rangers!"

"Doing their dirty work for them eh? Well looks like you're a bunch of no good, stinky Sable fuckers and no mistake. You know who you're fucking with do you? Hagran's got the Governor's ear and you mess with us and you'll be in a right deep river of shite no mistake."

As Ohanzee spits on his boot the man sighs and then knees the brave in the goolies. The fight is on...

Chairs fly, bottles break and punches are thrown.

Amara laughed at Jobal "We're perfectly aware of who you are and to be honest, relying on the lunars to get you out of trouble every time gets rather old. I think you considerably overestimate how popular you are here. The lunars will deal with anyone that can keep the peace. The fact were here.... well, you must have asked for too much money in kickbacks or annoyed one or more important people." Amara glanced over as Ohanzee spat on the mans boot, realising it was about to kick off.

She had only a fraction of a second as a chair came hurtling through the air, moving to one side, she quickly rescued the bottle, a fraction of a second before the chair came crashing into the bar where she'd been standing only a few moments before. Amara placed the bottle on the bar safely as one of the soldiers came charging towards her.

"My name is Magan Black" said a swarthy heavily tanned man as he paused just outside of Amara's reach. "and you're just nomad filth" he stepped lightly on his feet with the stance of someone who was well versed in fighting using fists. He took an experimental swipe at Amara, which she avoided by swaying backwards.

Amara realised as the fight began that she might be in a bit of trouble, the mans reach far outspanned her own. She need to do sometihng to cause him to throw caution to the winds and get in a place here she could hit him. "Magan Black? Why Black? Is that the colour of her coat?" she grinned, her eyes showing the gleam of knowing a malicious taunt. She looked at the man, seeing the glare of anger in his eyes, all it needed was one more step. She caught a glimpse of a mild limp in her opponent "Tell me, did it hurt when your mother bit your leg?"

That was enough, the man roared, lowering his head and charged towards Amara. Amara grabbed a leg of the broken chair from the bar and swung it over head down onto Magans head with every bit of might she could manage. When it hit Managans head she could feel the jarring running up all of her arms....and amazingly the man was still standing. His eyes grew unfocussed as if he was having trouble seeing, before he slowly slumped to the ground. Amara leaned forward, whispering to the man as his eyes slowly closed over and he fell into the depths of unconsciousness "My name is Amara Brightsky. You'd do well to remember it."

Amara let out an ululating cry, picked up the bottle from the bartop, opened it and took a drink. She put the cap back on and threw it to the next in line.