Alfheim is a very wild world. The planet is vast and impenetrable. The scientists claim that it must be hollow. It is larger than a gas giant, but has only a bit more gravity than Nexus. There are vast mines wherein prospectors dig up everything from gold to Magem and even one known deposit of ivory. The population is constantly booming, but it's still lonely. With more land to fill than any other world, 20 billion people on the planet still leave most of the planet unexplored and uninhabited.

There is no native greenery. The native plants are all arid dry-adapted brown inedible things. But there are plenty of native cattle. The cattle of this world graze the plant-life and the people who have come here eat the cattle. Water still has to be imported from off-planet, but legends persist about underground lakes and oceans.

There are more ways to turn a profit on this planet than there are acres. But many of those methods involve outlaws. Of course with no real central government laying claim to the planet, there are no real laws, and so no real outlaws. But common sense and decency are as good as law for the upstanding citizenry. Together they pay their own version of sheriffs to enforce their laws locally, and they pay bounty hunters to enforce their laws abroad. There are even a few safe-havens where bounty hunting is illegal.

Cragmine was a typical mining town. It had a saloon, a bank, a church, a general store and a few other places of interest. It was far away from the nearest Portal to off-planet, so it was fairly remote. Not much news made it out this far, except with those rich enough to afford Communicators. With most of the town being miners or their families, there wasn't much wealth to buy news. So no one should have known about The Devil Dancer. That's probably why he chose to visit the saloon and place his order.

Cragmine; a nowhere town filled with nobodies. Nothing special or unique about it, a man could ride past with a single mile between him and it, and never know it was there. It was in fact for this very reason that Ranford chose it, so for at least a brief moment he could be swallowed up in Oblivion. His looks easily turned heads many places he went, but accidents among miners weren't unheard of so his twisted features might just be a bit more at home here then elsewhere. He entered the saloon, out of habit scanning the room for any who might want to make their fame by ending his life. Then he headed for the bar, waiting until the bartender made it over to him;

"Whiskey, leave the bottle, and I want a steak."

Before the question of money could come up, the Legendary bounty hunter tossed a Quarter Eagle on the wooden surface.

OOC:

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Spoiler for why you have 1.9c worth left to spend: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
Based on the numbers you gave for the value of the gold, I'd say the Eagle would be worth about the same as 10c. Which in terms of scrap metal, puts it at 4 Valuable Scrap Metal pieces. Which would meant that 1 Quarter Eagle is the equivalent of 1 Valuable Scrap Metal piece. This is consistent with the game. Alcohol would be expensive on this planet as it would almost all have to be imported. $10 USD for a glass of Whisky would be reasonable on this planet. That translates to roughly .1c. A bottle of whisky would likely cost around $50 USD, so about .5c in-game currency. Steak would be $50 USD in a city, but on this planet the local cattle would be the source of steak unless otherwise specified. Plus the indigenous cattle make a delicious steak, so this wouldn't be a bad idea. So closer to $10 USD for the steak a la carte. Now we're up to about .6c where the 1/4 Eagle is worth 2.5c - meaning that there is still 1.9c worth remaining to purchase from.

It is worth mentioning that the common currency is basically stackable. You can be given 100c from 100 different people, and it will change shape and size to fit your needs. Break a 100c crystal in half and it will form two crystals of 50c each, but they can both be the same size as the original 100c crystal.

c stands for charge, as 1c is the same as 1 charge on a Magem crystal. In fact, the currency can even be used to power Magem items or spells directly.

However, it can be volatile. If it gets hit by lightning, it can shatter. So normal gold coins are still used.

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IC:

The bartender stared at Ranford's scars as he handed him the bottle and called back to the kitchen to order the steak. After a moment he went back to cleaning glasses and ignored Ranford.

A group of men playing cards laughed loudly, and attracted the attention of one of the wenches. Deciding to test his luck, one of the men grabbed her and made a kissy face at her, trying to pull her in toward his mustachioed lips.

The bartender stared at a spot on a glass while holding it up to the light coming in the front entryway as he said, "Those're some ugly scars you got there. Don't mean to pry into a stranger's business, but mind if I ask how you came by 'em?"
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:43, Tue 20 Dec 2016.

The Devil Dancer downed his first shot as though it were no stronger than water, then glanced up from under his hat at the barkeep.

"I tried shavin' without ah mirror, I'd suggest you not try tha same."

The bartender laughed, relieving some of his tension. "You're alright, stranger."

The girl protested the advances of the mustachioed player and slapped him. He hauled his arm back to hit her in return.

The Devil Dancer saw what was about to happen to the woman, and turned a bit to better see the man attempting to strike her. In the harsh, whispery voice he'd cpme to accept as his own, Ranford said;

"I wouldn't do that if I was you, mister. If you hit her, then tha barman here's goin' tah have tah come deal with yah. That mean my steak is going tah get cold since he can't bring it tah me, which then makes all that mess my business. As ya can see from my lfesh, I ain't scared ah handling my own business."

The man hesitated, glancing at the bartender. When the bartender ignored everything, the man hit the girl and she jerked herself away crying and running up the stairs and into a room.

The men at the table laughed and went on with their game.

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Spoiler for what happens if Ranford does nothing: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
10 minutes later, Ranford's steak is brought to him. The steak is cooked fairly well. Better than over an open flame, but not as good as home-cooked.

Halfway through his meal, the man who hit the girl goes upstairs and knocks on the door she went through.

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Ranford silently watched what happened, but remained where he was; the woman either had known what kind of life this job entailed, or she'd figure it out fast. Either way, the Bounty Hunter had said he'd only involve himself if the matter effected him personally, and as it hadn't he wasn't willing to start a fight with someone for free.

Ten minutes later his meal was brought before him, and while he was aware the man from before headed upstairs and heard a knock, his immediate response to these actions was once more to keep himself out of it; saloon girls were responsible for entertaining men, and that usually extended to matter best attended to out of the public eye. Sure he'd hit the working girl, but enough money would rightly make her not care about such things or possibly he could be rapping his knuckles against the door of another lady's room upstairs.

Most of the rooms upstairs were visible from the main area of the bar.

The girl didn't answer the knock at her door, but the man pulled out a knife and used it to jimmy the door open. He entered the room and closed the door behind him. The girl cried out for a few seconds and then there was silence.

After about 10 minutes, while Ranford finished his meal, a well dressed woman came out of the neighbouring room. She noticed the serving-girl's room was closed and knocked on the door, calling for her. When she got no response, she opened the door with a key from her pocket. Immediately she dropped the key, and screamed.

Most people in the bar turned their heads to see what was wrong, and the lady continued to cry and scream as she ran down the stairs.

Ranford had a close relationship with pain; suffering through it, witnessing it, causing it. That sort of thing can make a man hard on the inside, disconnected from emotions and responses others might associate with it. Some might even use the word 'dead', but that's not fully true. There is still a limit to what they will sit idlely by and allow, and when he saw the stranger from before resort to a knife to gain access into the woman's room, he had reached his. Thoughts of his meal were pushed from his mind as he stood into the center of the room, calling out the man on the balcony as he did so in a whispery voice still strong enough to carry to the fellow's ears;

"Hey, you! I'm a bounty hunter, I make my living by collecting trash who think they can do whatever they like, to whoever, whenever. I wasn't going to hold striking the saloon girl against you, occupational hazard for her. But you breaking into her room against her wishes, that's a mite more serious. If you're willing to do that in front of a room full of witnesses, I'm guessing you've done as much if not worse elsewhere; I might not get a cent for you here, but am I wrong to thing you ain't worth a few dollars in another town? Take one single step into that room, and you're mine..."

OOC: Not at all! I needed to know his limit. Now I know. I won't even have to change anything significant.

IC:

The man yelped and forced his way into the lady's room and out of sight. She screamed, but in fright and not in pain. A moment later, there was a sound of breaking glass. A mostly undressed woman burst out of the neighbouring room and into the opened door, asking the woman if she was hurt.

Ranford hurried as quick as he could for the front door; from years of experience he guessed the man had jumped out a window in hopes of avoiding the bounty hunter. The only reason he would have resorted to such measures was if he were indeed wanted somewhere, and if he were like many before him his natural reaction would be to get out of town as quickly as possible. He might have had a horse tied up out front of the saloon, but reaching it would bring him needlessly close to the very man he was attempting now to avoid. Trying to leave on foot would also be fruitless, as he could easily be overtaken by someone on horseback. That left one place the sidewinder would go, the only place that made sense;

Ranford turned and made his way toward the livery.

Ranford met no one running on the streets, though the runner could've already been through.

The livery appeared normal. No one was running in or out, and there was a stableboy cleaning one of the horses.

"Hey boy, Iamma looking fer a snake. He slither in here?"

"Huh?" the boy looked up confused, "Snake? ... Oh, you mean a person? No, no one has been in here for the last half hour."

Ranford turned on his boot heel and headed back to the saloon, but turned around the side instead of going back in the front. He was looking for broken glass, then after that for tracks; Alfheim was a massive world, so large the deformed man had hoped there would be a place where he could for a moment rest, where someone wasn't money to be had or trying to prove they were better than a famed and feared bounty hunter. A town where he could have a meal, a drink, and no one whispered behind his back about the bodies his reputation was built on or the soiled blood that turned into a jingle in his pocket. He had succeeded, for here zero people knew the name The Devil Dancer; soon that number would change by one...

The ground around the saloon was thick with dust as everywhere in Alfheim tended to be. Ranford found the broken glass below the window. It was already beginning to dissolve and be reclaimed by the microbial flora. Looking up, he could see that the Alfheim-window-crystal was also begin to grow back. There was just enough left of the glass on the ground to be certain that only a single drop of blood seemed to have been spilled when the window was smashed. It was still visible on top of a thick piece of the glass on the ground.

There were no obvious tracks that would indicate someone having jumped down to flee on foot. It was possible that the man had a flight-pack of some sort, but that would have made quite a ruckus, and he would have seen it beneath the man's coat. So that wasn't very likely.
This message was last edited by the GM at 16:02, Wed 01 Feb 2017.