The sun begins to rise in a blood-red sky over the town of Hobbs, situated rather in the heart of the New Mexico Territory. Formed some 15 years before, the town has grown significantly since, largely due to settlers traveling through to California, or gangs passing down towards Mexico for trouble and profit. To the north lie the Territories of Utah and Colorado, still largely inhabited by various Indian Tribes.
Back East, there's a War on. Being that there are 34 states, it weren't much concern when South Carolina decided to leave on its own. It weren't much either when Mississippi or Florida joined. But as time wore on, it began to be more and more of the Southern states.
Now we find ourselves stuck in the middle. California to our West supports the Union, while our neighbor Texas supports the Confederacy. More and more troops pass through our territory, trying to convince us to join their respective side, while they march off to their deaths.
Some good men have signed up and gone off to fight for what they believed, leaving their wives to do their best, and their sons to pick up the slack. Can't say whether it's helping or not, but I can tell you about the type of men it leaves behind...
Early on in its existence, Hobbs gained the nickname "The Rock" for a 60' stone obelisk that stands in the middle of town. The Territory's been passed around between the Spanish and Mexicans before, so it may have come from there, but no one can say. No one can say, either, what the symbols engraved on it are likely to mean.
But those who live there accept it as though its part of the natural formation of the land. Sometimes there are rivers, sometimes mountains, sometimes giant obelisks. The nickname has taken on another meaning in the last few months, representing a sort of stability. Even as the skies turn ashen, as rivers run red with blood, as brother kills brother, Hobbs remains unmoved.
Whatever reasons you have for being here, they're your own. Your business is your own. Your past lies where you left it, ready to rear its head when its most inconvenient. You may think of Hobbs as being a boomtown, a place that will thrive even more as the conflicts grow - but it's just as likely to be a powder keg waiting to blow up in your face.
One by one, Elle, Connell, Monique, and Adrian open their eyes to face the sobering light of day, and realities of their lives, for better or worse.
Monique Le Grange a creole woman with dark hair with blonde highlights which most people wouldn't be able to tell she was Creole who speaks with an affected French accent dressed in finery disembarks from the first stage coach to arrive this morning from the east, from Austin with the help of the stagecoach driver.
She is carrying an umbrella, not the kind for rain protection but rather the kind designed to protect ladies from the sun. She disembarks and smells the air and shrugs and walks with grace to an inn.
The incessant chirping of a bird unseen out the window forced a groggy Adrian awake. "Damn bird, he muttered trying to stand up, wobbly on his feet. His head wouldn't stop pounding. Stumbling through the house, he found the water and tried to sober himself up. What did he do last night? Wracking his brain he vaguely recalled a drinking contest, a game of cards, a sweet brunette; ah well, he was still in one piece so it didn't really matter.
Eating a quick breakfast of oatmeal, Adrian stepped out into the morning light, squinting as the sun compounded his headache. It'd be a long day. Taking a quick look at the two bedroom house, he smiled. It still stood. Anyone of means would recognize the house as nothing more than a rundown dump, a far cry from his childhood home; the roof sagged and leaked, a window remained broken, and in the thick overgrowth one could sometimes hear rattling. Still, it was shelter and it was free. There was even a patch of land for farming out back, not that he used much of it.
Adrian still remembered a few months back when he first came across the old woman who owned it. <Cue flashback> It was late afternoon and the sun shone bright overheard, not a cloud in the sky as Adrian stumbled up to a door and collapsed, parched and exhausted. When he came to, an old lady was tending to him. She called herself Henrietta and owned this rundown farm better known as Collinwood Farm outside the town of Hobbs. She let Adrian stay in exchange for help around the farm, which worked for him as he still did not know the area. Eventually Adrian learned that Henrietta's husband had passed just under a year ago while out in the field. Her son had died as well a short time later to a rustler passing through. Old and tired, Henrietta did not have the strength to carry on with life here. She'd move back east to be with her surviving son and his family. Smooth talker that he is, Adrian made a deal with the lady: Adrian would catch the rustler who killed her son and she'd deed the land to him. That was several months ago. Henrietta left a short time later. <Fade out>
Adrian had given it his best shot these past couple months but had come up empty. While he lived in her now abandoned house for free, he still wanted that deed. Land was land and land was worth money, especially with a city nearby. The deal had been recorded in Hobbs so all he needed was the killer to get title. He'd forge the proof but the man had several distinct scars and birthmarks making any fraud likely to be discovered.
Still a bit hungover, Adrian would make his way into town. He'd not cause any serious trouble in these parts since he arrived, other than being drunk a few times. And who didn't get drunk?
He was on his way to visit the incompetent sheriff to see the wanted posters unless something interesting caught his eye. His rugged outfit fit the bounty hunter stereotype so he went with it as easy marks in Hobbs were proving tougher to find than he expected.
Connell begins to stir just before the sun rises. Dawn has always been his favorite time of day. In the forests and the mountains that he roamed in his past, daybreak was the time to hunt, the time that the creatures of the night returned to their burrows and dens to sleep, and the creatures of the day came out of their burrows and dens to find water. A moment of great stillness existed between these activities, a time for a hunter to prepare, to find a position along a game trail, and to wait in silence.
The desert is different, though. The creatures of the desert are scarce and they scuttle around in the night. They return to their sand burrows in the morning, before the burning sun can assail them. You can forget trying to find water after the sun returns. That morning stillness of the desert extends through the day. Unless, by chance, you encounter a human, the strangest of animals.
Connell makes a morning meal of cactus pulp, the edible plants of this region providing the primary means of both food and water. He sets his eyes on Hobbs, and shakes the sand out of the deerskin that serves as his bed under the stars. During the day, he wraps it over his body to protect his skin from the brutal sun. He feels determined to enter the city, but he’s not sure what to do once he gets there. Picking up his few belongings, he tucks away the Ace of Spades he found yesterday, and quickly plunges forth into this unpleasant new place, as one might leap into a frigid lake.
The townspeople are beginning their days as Connell walks among them, but apart from them. He feels foreign, and his time with the natives has caused him to forget his own skin color. The people see a tall, strong man wearing a simple shirt and pant made of lightweight, stretched hide, sporting moccasins, but the man wearing these clothes is white, with jet black hair and calm, steady, gray-blue eyes. Passing by the general store, his fingers roam into his pocket to find a single dollar coin, the last dollar he never spent, a remnant from his life before the tribe. He remembers, then, that this currency is the way of the white man, and he will need to trade for money to eek out his existence among them.
He comes at last before this strange obelisk at the center of town.
What strange religion do these people follow? His eyes scan the markings as he thinks back to his childhood, and the Catholic statues of sacrifice, or of saints. He wonders what this statue could mean, and why it is important to the townsfolk here.
Out of curiosity, Connell finds a place to sit, and observes the people of the town. This seems as good a place as any to scan the faces of passersby, and he keeps a mental tab of shady-looking characters and how they go about their day, specifically looking for anyone wearing large boots matching the tracks he found in the sand, and recently traveled; not clean and fresh like the finer folk, nor obviously a tradesman or local farmer. Indeed, Connell is scanning for the outsiders, folk not unlike himself, yet somehow fouler.
A gust of breeze blew from the open eastern circular attic window, across the room and pushed Elle's hair from her nose to her cheek. It lazily finished the journey through the room by somersaulting out the eastern window, just barely missing the first reflections of the rising sun. She awoke in a room above the two floors that made up the Lockwood Stop. Her room. A room that got a little too warm in the summer and a little chilly in the winter, but it had been hers since she took over from her mother and sold the family home to expand and hire extra help. "Everyone needs their own slice of heaven, even if just for a moment." She pushed the lingering moments of a dream she barely remembered away as she swung her legs over her bed and stretched. Elle fluttered over to the eastern window and let the beginnings of the day rush toward her. The previous night invaded her thoughts as she finished stretching. Lilly! She smiled and laughed, thinking of her friend and resident madam dancing on the bar. A wedding had spilled over from the church into the The Stop sparking an impromptu dance party. Business had been good for the ladies and lads Lilly employed. She kept the excitement from overcoming her and cracked the door open. She crept down the stairs to the 2nd floor being careful not to wake anyone who had decided to partake in the house whiskey. Back behind the bar on the second floor, she started to prepare the coffee for the first few through the front door, or the first making their best effort from the second floor...
As Monique departs from the stagecoach, the driver looks up and down the fairly empty, dusty street. "Yew sure this is where yer goin'?" He asks, his eyes squinting to see her in the sunlight. "Ain't look much good for a lady as yerself."
Adrian walks himself over to Sheriff Beauregard's place - a small two story building that looked run down as anything else. Inside there was a small desk, bulletin board, and a couple of cells. Adrian hadn't seen the upstairs, but he'd heard that when Beauregard's wife died and he took to the bottle, he'd given away his own home, and slept now upstairs in what was essentially the armoury and storage.
As he approaches, Sheriff Beauregard is standing on the porch, hunched over a bit with his forearms on the railing. The sherif spits into the dirt - looking much like Adrian feels, with bloodshot eyes and messy hair. "Mornin'." He says with a nod.
Connell gets a few strange glances as he walks through the streets, a combination of his clothing, tanned skin, and more importantly, mannerisms. There is something not quite feral but certainly a touch wild and perhaps even dangerous about the man. As he approaches the Obelisk, a strange feeling of anxiety comes over him, but quickly passes. Perhaps it is merely being in a town for the first time in many years.
It isn't long before the smell of coffee brings a few people downstairs. They move in pairs, the prostitutes not leaving the rooms before their clients are ready to awaken and join them. There are smiles and happy chatter all around - there was something about a wedding that always filled people with such joy. Maybe it was just start of something new, the promise of a better tomorrow, and not having to face today alone. Whatever the case, no one was in much of a hurry to return to their daily lives, and they did their best to savor the pleasant morning together.
Soon after, Lilly herself is in the bar, , and even she doesn't immediately break up the relaxing morning, though she knows the girls have things to tend to. She greets Elle brightly, with a wide smile.
Monique flashes the man a flirtacious grin and says, "Monsieur, a girl has a family issue to yet be resolved."
She then walks to the nearest Inn to find lodging after dropping off her bags she makes her way to the sheriff to inquire about her father possibly coming through town.
The 18 year old Monique is looking ravishing in her finery while wielding her parasol. The blows through her hair giving her just a little bit of vulnerability and puts the menfolk off guard which is exacerbated by her Francophone demeanor.
Connell barely notices the strange looks, shying away and breaking eye contact from the ones that pass nearby.
The Mohtautau tribe does not have a written language. All the same, Connell's sharp eyes scan the surface of the obelisk, admiring every shape and angle. He tries to remember the written words of his childhood: English, Irish Gaelic, and Latin spoken in Catholic mass. He tries to recall the symbols of tribes that write their language. He tries to interpret how the townsfolk interact with the thing: is it a ritual symbol, a place of worship, or perhaps just a societal emblem?
Elle leans forward heavily on the long heavy wooden bar top that sits prominently on the right side of the main room on the first floor. Across the room, separated from the bar by numerous tables of various sizes is an old piano and a few instruments with stories as varied as the travelers who walk in and stumble out of the Stop. She grins back at Lilly and leans forward far enough that her feet leave the ground. And what did you do last night, missy? Elle laughs. They had been friends for years and she swore that she had never heard the same answer twice. She rocks back from the bar and grabs the handle of a tin water bucket with a block of soap sitting at the bottom. Under the bar she grabs a small towel that has certainly seen better days and tosses it in the bucket while setting it on the bar. Time to fetch some water from out back and finish cleaning this place up.
"Mornin. Adrian nodded to the sheriff, trying to clear the headache his eyes still a little bloodshot. "Just here to see the wanted posters." He'd head inside to take a look at the bulletin board unless the sheriff started talking. He'd flip through the posters, see if any of them seemed interesting and ask the sheriff follow up questions about them. Eventually Adrian would ask, "You ever hear anything bout a man with a snake tattoo on his arm?"
Once he finished conversing with the sheriff, Adrian would head to the inn. If Monique arrives before Adrian leaves, he'd listen in on her conversation with the sheriff as well as greet her with a friendly smile. Being a man who had little in the way of legal income, he had nothing pressing to do today other than find some money.
Monique leaves the stagecoach driver standing in the road and looking a combination of foolish and in love. By the time he thought of something clever to say, Monique was already gone down the street. Sighing, he hops back up and urges the horse onward.
When Monique enters into The Lockwood Stop, she first spots two women chatting at the bar. They're laughing quietly to themselves, and as she enters she hears one say "He ain't called the Best Man for nothin'."
Her laughter is cut short as she hears the door start to open and turns, muttering that she hopes it isn't his wife. Instead, she sees Monique standing there. "Mornin'," She says with a nod, looking the girl up and down. "You lookin' for a job?"
Connell sits for a short time, staring at the Obelisk. It's a strange thing - the symbols on it don't seem to be any language that he recognises, though the repetition of some symbols makes him certain that there is a language buried in there somewhere. Just not one that he could hope to decipher without considerable time investment, and maybe not even then.
Perhaps more interestingly is that he is the only person who gives the Obelisk any kind of attention. No one comes to pray at it, or even acknowledges it. People seem to treat it as they would treat any natural obstacle like a boulder or a tree - simply moving around it - regardless of the fact that the Obelisk is clearly not natural.
Finally taking his leave, Connell heads towards one of the rougher bars in town. As he's approaching the doors, someone comes flying out of them at him.
The Sheriff nods as Adrian moves inside, and barely acknowledges the man when he comes back out. "What?" He asks. "Oh. Tattoo. Hrm..." He thinks for a second, closing one eye tightly. "Yeah, we had a chap couple years back. Came in on the blackest horse I ever saw." He laughs. "Yeah, couple people said the snake actually came off his arm, came to life-like." Shaking his head, he continues. "Feller caused some trouble. Ain't seen him since, though."
Monique looks the bar up and down and says, "Morning. Possible," with a French pronunciation and continues, "Madame, what type of work is available, I am a good singer and dancer as well, would lodging be included?"
Monique looks Lilly and her location with interest and takes in those in attendance and makes mental notes of anything important. She then winks at the other young ladies.
She then curtsies and appologizes, "Madame, sorry for my rudeness, moi nom is Monique Le Grange, at what is yours?"
Elle watches as Lilly greets the first customer of the day (). Sensing the trepidation in her voice she comes from behind the bar with the water pail and puts her arm around Lilly and greets the customer. My name is Elizabeth Lockwood. Elle motions with the pail in her other hand to the bar where she had just come from and smiles. I own this little place....and cleaning it! This is Lilly. She owns just about all of the fun that happens in it. She trusted Lilly's intuition completely. Her judge of character was typically impeccable. They didn't really need any additional help, but if Lilly liked her there was no saying no. Monique, Sit down at the bar, or just about anywhere else if you please. I'm going to get some water from out back. Elle nods to Lilly and heads out through the back door and uses the pump to fill the bucket. She heads back in to see how Lilly is doing and do some cleaning if her assistance is not needed...
Sheriff's useless. Looking at the sheriff, he'd follow up, "What type of trouble? Anyone who'd remember him?"If he got a lead, he'd follow it. Otherwise he'd change tack and take a break, go to a bar and see if he could make some quick money."Thanks for the help."Inwardly Adrian wondered What type of sheriff gets a hangover? Must be a dull town.
It is strange that these people do not even regard this totem in their town. Perhaps it is only used in special rituals or ceremonies.
As he's approaching the doors, someone comes flying out of them at him.
Connell wraps powerful arms around the person hurtling towards him, and if the force of impact could be harmful, he falls backwards to break the fall for both parties.
Landing in the dust, he quickly releases the individual, and looks them over, trying to determine whether they are looking for a fight, making an escape, or just drunk. For the moment, Connell is silent. It suddenly occurs to him that he has not spoken in English for many, many years.
Monique nods to Elle and says, "Pleased to meet you, how do you do?"
She looks around and says, "Is there any news from the Mississippi theater?"
The Sheriff seems to shrug without moving. Squinting into the desert, he frowns. "Just robbed a couple folk, much as I remember. Rode off 'fore we could get 'em." He finally looks over at Adrian. "You fixin' to go after hm? By yerself?"
From atop him, the man smiles at Connell, a smile that is missing several teeth and has chewing tobacco running from the corners of his mouth. There's shards of glass from a broken bottle in his hair, and blood begins to seep down his face. "Much obliged." He slurs, before sucking in a string of tobacco. From behind him, Connell can hear someone else shouting. "You come back round 'ere and next time we'll kill ya!"
Elle returns with her tin bucket full and sets to work on cleaning the bar top with the soap and rag in hand. Mississippi theater.. She mulled over words for a moment. I can't say that I've ever heard of it, Monique. Should I have? She questioned with genuine interest and curiosity. Elle loved hearing the stories visitors brought to the Stop.
Monique raises an eyebrow in confusion and says, "Mademoissele, I was referring to za conflict on za Mississippi. Did za Norse take Vicksbourg yet? Before I left Austeein, Grant had just started za siege."
"Yes sir. Why...any reason I shouldn't? Adrian asked the sheriff before going to the bar.
"Jus' ain't lookin' to bury more boys." The Sheriff says with a grimace into the sand. "Lots comin' back from the war in pieces. You corner a man like that, thinkin' he ca'n't be stopped, cain't be caught, I reckon you'll get it even worse than them war boys."
The Sheriff stands up, his back cracking as he does so. "Course, what do I know. Maybe you'll get yer reward." He pauses for a moment and looks at Adrian, as if seeing him for the first time. "I hope you do. Truthfully."
As Adrian approaches what looks like a pretty run-down bar, he sees the scene unfold where a man is thrown from the doors into someone else who is approaching. The man who is hit and falls to the ground is dressed more as a native, though he clearly has the features of a white man.
A confederate soldier was in here a few days back and went on and on about the south "whooping those Yankee bastards" at Vicksbourg. Elle exaggerated the what the man had said trying to imitate a southern accent through her own Mexican accent. The next day a young man in blue stopped in to tell me that Vicksbourg was all but theirs. Elle straightened up and tried to portrait a man from Pennsylvania. Madam, Vicksbourg will be ours before I pay my bill. That is my promise. She shrugged. If you ask me...guerra hace que la gente loca. She took out a glass and wiggled it in the air for a second. Now, what can I set you up for?
Monique says, "oui, l'homme doit avoir été dérangé. If Grant takes Vicksburg, the Mississippi weell be his."
Monique smiles and says, [/b]"I would like a room please, and I can start this evening if you would like. I would like to go to the Gendarmes to ask some questions."[/b]
A wave of disgust overtakes Connell as he looks up at the man atop him. The disgust begins to well into anger, an urge to hit the man, to knock the rest of his foul teeth out. A burning light overtakes his cool gray eyes, but after just a brief moment he is back in control. This man means me no harm, I must continue on my way and see what I can find.
Connell waits for the man to clamber off him, and if he is forced to wait more than a few seconds, he simply tips the man off him and strides into the bar without a word, and without looking back. Pushing through the saloon door, he enters an environment that he has never been in, and he is not sure how to behave. He glances around the room briefly, and attempts to act casual as he looks for a corner to hang around unnoticed, so he can observe the other patrons.
The room I can say yes to. But as far as being one of Lilly's girls...that is up to her Elle replied finishing up her cleaning, looking to Lilly.
Adrian stumbled across a scene as he approached a run down bar seeing more action than it should this early in the morning. Watching the white native shrug off the guy and continue inside, Adrian turned his attention to the drunk. "Hey fella, what you do to get thrown out?" Not expecting much Adrian would eye the guy trying to see how drunk and if he had anything on him. He did not plan on a long conversation as the bar seemed interesting.
He'd keep a leisurely approach as the guy still would be in his path to the bar.
Monique smiles, puts her things in her room and then nods to Elle as she walks out of the saloon and makes her way to the Sherrif's office. She then pushes one of the doors in to gain her entry and she says, "Good Day, sherriff. I was wondering if you may or mayn't help me."
Lilly looks noncommitally at Monique, eyeing her up and down. She seems very uncertain at first, squinting several times as she examines the girl. Finally, she nods. "Stick around tonight, you can audition."
As Monique is heading upstairs to put her things away, Lilly turns to Elle and raises an eyebrow. "Whacha think of that one? A mite eager, yeah?"
As Monique walks towards the Sheriff's office, she gets several more stares from people, but is walking somewhere with purpose, and gets through without being stopped. The Sheriff is sitting on the porch, on a rocking chair when she approaches, his hat mostly pulled down over his face. Seeing her walking up, he quickly pushes it back on his head, and sits up straight. "Good day, ma'am." He greets her, trying to suck in his gut. "'Course I'd be happy to help." Standing up, he puts his hands on his belt, near his gun, and sticks out his chest. "Ain't nothin' I cain't handle. What seems to be the trouble?"
As Connell push the drunk off himself and continues into the bar, he sees the following scene: To the left is a man playing an upright piano, with the bar starting just past him. After the bar are a few stacked boxes, and little else. On the right side is a series of tables and a small stage. There is a girl dancing on the stage, and a few men towards the front are ogling and waving bills at her.
Towards the back is an empty table, but immediately adjacent to it is a large table where a cloud of smoke rises from several cigars. The five men at the table look to be playing some kind of a card game, and the empty seat (with cards at it) would suggest a spot for the recently ejected man. A few people give Connell glances as he comes in, but everyone quickly returns to what they were doing - as it's far more interesting.
As Adrian looks over the drunk, after helping him up, he can find very little of value on the man himself. He doesn't seem to have any cash at all, and Adrian can see a white band around his tanned finger where a ring belonged. The man stares at him for a few seconds, blinking, before saying "I... wuz thrown out?"
Monique
@ the sheriff's
Monique says, "Oui, I have been looking for a relative of mine, mayhaps you have seen him?"
GM
Elle shrugs. Depends on what she is auditioning for... she says as she mimes kissing the end of a broom handle. Chicos pueden gustar una chica que besa allí con ese tipo de entusiasmo. She stuck her tongue out towards Lilly. Elle swings around the side of the bar and grabs Lilly around the waist and dances for a moment toward the piano before slowly spinning her away and sliding onto the ancient piano bench. The morning is young, so are we, and I'm bored. What's that song we heard last night? The Rare Old Mountain Dew? She began playing the song and singing.
And then he sang a song
The Rare Auld Mountain Dew
I turned my face away
And dreamed about you.
Adrian shakes his head at the guy. "Go home. He continued on, checking his pockets to make sure the drunk did not pull a fast one.
Pushing his way through the doors, Adrian would survey the scene before him, passing the native if necessary, eventually making his way to a seat at the empty table. He wanted a view of the card game and to see the stakes they were playing. With only a $1 on him, he would see if he could get in.
Connell makes his way to the back of the room, and takes a seat at the empty table. He eyes the card game at the adjacent table, and tries to understand the objective, as he has no experience playing such games.
Lily chuckles in response to Elle's crude statement. "Be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't. Still, she has the right look, a-" Hearing the ceak of the stars above, where Monique is trying to listen, Lily pauses. Narrowing her eyes, she looks towards Elle. "Esa niña podría ser más inteligente que ella parece."
With a smile, Lily joins in on singing the song with Elle. "What a lovely song," She says when the two of them finish. "What a lovely evening. I think you and I may have been the only ones that left alone."
The Sheriff seems to think for a few seconds, before finally shrugging. "Could be lotta folk matching that description. How long ago was this? You know where he was headed?" He strokes his chin. "Can't imagine a feller leavin' you behind willingly."
As Connell moves to the back of the bar and finds himself a seat, a couple of the men playing cards look over as he keeps staring, but rarely give him a second look. There are a few racist remarks thrown around the table quietly at his expense.
Heads turn even less when Adrian comes in, given how much his look fits in with the more rugged crowd. The only thing that might hold Adrian back would be his young age, but his eyes gave the inkling of a boy who had seen some things.
It's not long before he pulls up a seat near the table that one of the guys looks over. His beard is scraggly and a large scar runs down his face, through what is now a blind eye. "Lost our fifth," He remarks. "Want in?"
He doesn't ask whether Adrian has any money, but the demeanor of the men sends the message clear enough that these are not people who you want to owe. From a table nearby, Connell watches the exchange.
Monique smiles meekly while twisting a lock of hair and says, "A month or so, three at the most. I received a cable and with wa-ur and all it was difficult to get here. Monsiour."