Fandom Red Dead Redemption 3: A New Tale IC

[The Silent Z]

1881
______
​

Just outside Durango, Colorado in the spring of 1881, the outsiders roamed around the countryside keeping on the outskirts of town after having traveled some ways from the Dakota’s. The Outsiders were not your typical gang, filled with all sorts of individuals from all walks of life pulling their respective lots together as wandering folk looking to survive the west. Horses, wagons and various crates and chests to keep their belongings, gear and anything else they’ve collected over time.

A small train of wagons led by riders on horseback while a tall, broad shouldered man stayed back to watch the rear never assuming command, but seemed to find it fall upon him at times when clearer heads couldn’t prevail within the group during heated times and a few too many drinks perhaps were involved. The outsiders were not a group with a clear leader, no single minded goal other then surviving, wandering and keeping free while earning their keep in whatever manner they decide respectively to do so. Not the most typical thing for bands of ragtag individuals especially during these times…

They were headed for a small town on the rise called, ‘Silver Creek’, a mining town with a nice view near a tranquil creek of water and plenty of trees surrounding the landscape with surrounding mountains and mines. Now, this broad shouldered man didn’t much care for the idea but they all had reasons to keep traveling further away from the south, where maybe a few folks across different parts might of wanted some of them dead or alive. John, well, he was no different… a former union sergeant with a reputation as a gunslinger and known gambler who liked a good game of cards now and again, well often really, which always seemed to cause trouble for him in one way or another.

The story of how each member of the group came to meet one another at different times was a tale in their own rights. But it seemed, it all began with John in one way or another as the gang kinda formed around him over the years without much intention. Now it’s not to say they all started off meeting John, not at all, but somehow John was always tied in somewhere sometimes when the case a new member came to light and he was approached by the idea. After all, a new member always meant another mouth to feed, another life to look over during hard times….


It all began roughly six years ago and the gang hasn’t looked back since least not too much. Not everyone joined around the beginning some came later, but still, they remain together now. Some may have left over that span but quite a few haven’t.


John meanwhile sitting atop Quinn, covering the read guard and quietly watching the group move along the Colorado landscape, while sounds of horses neighing here and there, wagon wheels rolling along the ground filled the air along with nature itself. The man just looked on thinking, what he was thinking about could vary but likely it was about camp and where to set it or perhaps a drink to quench thirst and settle his lips desire for something stiffer then water and not as bitter as coffee. Part of him though was certainly curious as to what was taking the scout ahead so long for a spot to set camp for the night atleast. If they were lucky, which wasn’t always the case, it wouldn’t involve trouble like last time around…..


noxrequiem Vexumin

 

[Jackson123]

Sakai Jinzaemon was sitting in one of the horse-drawn carriages with the gang. He looks as if he were practising sitting meditation by zazen. Having settled into meditation posture, his katana is laying beside him. Sakai tried to empty his mind, counting each inhale and exhale, strives to be aware of the stream of thoughts, allowing them to arise and pass away without interference.

When his mind begins to wander--a thought arises and he loses his awareness in it--then clearly see or notice the thought, and then let it go and begin the count of breath again. He feels the feel the gentle touch of a cool breeze on his face, he hears the wind howls, a refreshing smell in the air......

What is it about creatures like mosquitoes that make their actions so difficult to understand? They usually bite people in their arms or legs, but when the person begin to stay still, those pesky little bugger start flying around in their ears. That wing-beating sound, how repugnant.

In a split of a second, Sakai sit up and snatched his katana, the blade flashes out of the saya (sheath). A quick, clean, circular motion, after the sword rotated, the back of blade swiftly slides all the way across his left hand which was grasping the saya a finger width above the koiguchi (saya mouth), and the blade smoothly return into the sheath after the kissaki (sword tip) reaches the koiguchi. The tsuba (hand guard) of the katana clicks with the koiguchi, making a clear metallic sound.

The mosquito that was cut in half then touches the carriage floor.

"hmph…...mata tsumaranu mono o kitte shimatta……" Sakai said, before opening his eyes.

His meditation was interrupted, now that he had drawn his sword, he does not intend to return to his zazen. He set his eyes upon the Colorado landscape, her mountains, foothills, high plains. His horse Izumi is strolling alongside the wagon train. Izumi was named after Sakai's wife who was killed years ago during the British bombardment of Satsuma. He's a long way away from the jokamachi of his hometown Kagoshima, he wonder if he would see the volcano of Sakurajima again, sometimes he would dream of the stream of Kotsuki River that flows into Kagoshima Bay.

Sakai jump alight from the carriage to instead ride on the back of his horse. Seems like the scout took longer than expected to find a campsite, maybe something had went wrong.

(The quick sword draw looks like this )

 

[VolcanicAccelerator]

1881
-----------------------​

The sound of horse neighing and wagon wheels powering through the dirt was harshly interrupted by a fierce howl, any other group of travelers in the west would've drawn weapons or flown into fight or flight upon hearing the call of a hungry wolf but the outsiders knew this sound and what often followed shortly after. Bounding into sight of the wagon train and the gang was a mammoth of a man riding upon a burly and bulky Belgian draft, even from this distance he resembled a wild mountain man more than a member of any type of gang. His hair was wild and disheveled, scars and tribal tattoos covered the parts of his body not covered by a boar hide shirt, and riding alongside the beastial bastard was a snow-white wolf, the source of the earlier howl. The trio came skidding to a stop in front of John and Quinn, "Found a decent enough spot for a camp a few miles down, got water, got lumber and I noticed a few tree's sturdy enough to hitch the horses" Buck said, his voice booming and harsh like the frozen winds of his homeland.

 

[noxrequiem]

Asher’s feet dangled lazily from out of the stirrups, one hand limply clutching the reins from where it rested on her horse’s neck. Her hat was tipped forward, concealing her closed eyes. She just couldn’t help it, the warm beams of sunlight streaming through the trees felt so nice and made her sleepy. A quick snooze wasn’t going to hurt anyone, and she’d napped in the saddle a billion times. Besides, Arson knew to stick with the rest of the crew and she trusted him to behave.

This was a nice change of pace. Usually Asher was given the role as scout on account of her speed and stamina as a rider. But after what happened last time, it was decided she’d hang back for this one, despite her insistence that it hadn’t been her fault. Well, whatever, it was no skin off her teeth. Just meant less work for her.

The howl of a wolf was a sound Asher had gotten so accustomed to that the sound of it now did nothing to rouse her from her little nap. The heavy sound of a galloping horse’s hooves started to wake her, but she wasn’t fully alert until the harsh booming voice of a man caused her to startle and almost lose her hat, while her horse snorted and pinned his ears at her sudden reaction.

Rubbing her eyes and muttering a curse under her breath, she pulled back lightly on the reins so Arson slowed down from their position towards the front of the caravan, till they were in line with John and Buck. Despite her annoyance at the interruption of her cat nap, she was curious to know what the big Norseman had found.

 

[IDKnuggets]

Salvatore “Law” Grotti
***************************************​

Spring, 1881

From his place atop his horse Salvatore eyed the weary band of travelers around him. It had been a long ride south from Dakota territory and some folks hadn’t been up to the journey, whether it be that they moved on or simply passed away. A few times Salvatore himself had considered setting off on his own, but for better or worse had ever gone through with it. Each step they took moved them further west, back towards the territories he had fled years ago. He only hoped trouble wouldn't find them as they rode into the west.

The dark-haired man looked over his shoulder and caught sight of a young woman riding a few paces behind him. The troublesome bounty hunter looked to have dozed off in the saddle, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. He had seen the woman shoot down at least a dozen men, yet here she sat looking as peaceful as a nun. There might have been some concern were it not that her steed knew well enough to stick with the wagon train. From ahead came the sudden howl of a wolf and his attention was pulled to his gun.

Salvatore’s hand rested when he saw the mountain of a man approaching from just up the trail. Perhaps in riding together the former lawman should have grown accustomed to the wolf that accompanied his large compatriot, but in Salvatore’s experience there was no room for complacency when it came to survival. He would rather look a live fool than a dead sap any day.

With a gentle tug on Colt’s reins Salvatore eased his pace and fell in line with John. He gave a curt nod in Buck’s direction, listening in as he relayed what he had found up ahead. Law shot a glance down as he unwillingly began to lag behind, putting John and Quinn between themselves and the wolf. The creature always made his horse a bit antsy, not that he could be blamed for it. “Easy now Colt, easy there” the rider muttered as he gave the horse a gentle pat on the neck.

 

[The Silent Z]

1881 Durango, Colorado…
___________
​

The crisp morning air gracing his cheeks with a cool breeze passing through. A mountain setting overlooking a grand landscape with a wondrous view one could say. John had been quiet sitting atop his faithful palomino, Quinn, though quiet wasn’t exactly foreign to the gunslinger, almost six years ago this gang formed around him in one way or another, the folk changed throughout the years as not everyone stayed nor were each person here now part of the original gang of outsiders. John always wondered how exactly he went from gambler and gunslinger riding alone across the west to garnering followers in such little time it seemed back then. It all just happened almost natural like…

The coming of spring was a welcomed change though, even if thoughts of old wonders lingered in his mind. He could atleast know the comforts of sweet, cool spring. It wasn’t exactly his thing but even the blossoming flowers, birds chirping, sounds of nature taking its course in stride with his own. The quiet man almost alone with his thoughts as he stayed at the back of the wagon train wouldn’t remain so long. Buck returned, it would have been hard to miss the howl of his wolf companion that was as white as the first snow to fall. By now Quinn has grown use to the sounds of fierce howl making her reaction less troublesome as John pulled lightly on the reigns and eased into a slower pace before reaching a full stop as the man adjusted himself in the saddle. It seemed his question of what happened to the scout and why it seemed to take awhile would be answered now….

John listening while spotting Sakai back on his horse then gazing over to Arson with Asher looking a bit more lively now rather impressed how well the horse and rider could remain so during a ride without a bit more trouble. But none the less it was impressive as the pair fell in line with them. He then took note of Salvatore easing back of himself and Quinn but within range as Buck filled them in. “Rermmmm…” John uttered eyes closing for a bit as he took it all in. Now John wasn’t exactly the leader least he never considered himself one, nor thought he’d take charge of others lives in such a manner. He merely chimed in from time to time and let the others be least til the lot as a whole became effected by ones actions. Though somehow it seemed like he was a position of leadership or seniority perhaps least at times…

“Alright, sounds like a good enough spot.” John responded a bit more audible and easier to understand what was going through his mind to the news. Eyes starting to prey open a little more, looking at the giant of a man. “Was it me or did that seem to take a bit long? Any trouble about the path ahead we should know about?” John asked with no real change in tone just a plain question asked in a plain, rather neutral tone for him. While giving a nod for everyone to keep moving along towards the camp. He never did like the idea of setting camp too close to nightfall though the hour made it seem like they had plenty of time.

~~~~~~~

The idea of trouble wasn’t too unfamiliar or anything though it was never a welcomed change. Asher still insisted that it wasn’t her fault last time, but John still felt it best to turn to Buck for this territory after all the gunslinger didn’t wish any harm to the others. While he knew they could each handle themselves just fine, there was no need to get caught up the unnecessary troubles of this world if it can be helped. Riding along the path some ways ahead til entering the site of their new camp.

John took a deep breath in and closed his eyes picturing it all in his mind. While his ears sharpened to focus a bit more to the wild land around him and releasing his held breath nice and slow as quiet as could be. I gotta funny feeling…. he thought while opening his eyes and clearing his mind. “You all know the routine…. Let’s get to it… Look alive Bernard, you’ve got things to do now” John added waking the old cook and wagon driver with a shake of his head. The cook was old and stubborn with a tendency to fall asleep during long rides but he refused to settle somewhere or give up the reigns easy, least he was a fair hand with the cooking and knowledge of recipes. A true aging frontiersman til his last breath…..

Sitting atop Quinn eyes veered off towards the sky, memories still occasionally passing through his mind in images of the past he thought he long since buried yet still carries with him now. Life wasn’t quite how he expected it would turn out after the war but given everything he’s been through it wasn’t bad either. Whether or not he was merely becoming softer in elder years where he still wasn’t old or middle aged yet but wasn’t that young angry soul anymore either. Whatever it was John rather cared about this lot, the stories each shared with him and the gang as a whole, the adventures they experienced together wandering the country earning their keep in different ways. No, it wasn’t bad at all just rather different then he could have imagined all those years ago.

 

[Vexumin]

It had been nothing but silence from the witch as the trail had been crept along by the convoy of different folk and their wagons and horses. Her horse trotted well alongside the others, unburdened by the weight of his rider thus far. The woman had been sitting atop one of the wagons, reins in hand for the time being. Her hat was dipped over her eyes as her head slouched forward. Seems she had fallen asleep during the trip. Thankfully the horses carrying the wagon along had followed the caravan well enough without her guidance. It was when the group had slowed and her wagon came to a halt on its own accord that she turned into a flurry of waving hands as she sought to gather herself, steadying herself as well before anyone noticed her slacking.

Seems there was talk of a new camp and judging from John's words, there might be an issue. Marguerite was always ready for a little mess that needed to be cleaned up here and there. She performs a quick pat-down of her person, making sure her good ol' guns were in their usual place, which they were. Her Pa's pistols were right where they belonged. She took a moment to look around the wagon. Seems that everyone was about for the most part. Though they might be wandering into trouble, Marguerite lowers her hat once more over her face a bit to hide the growing red blush showing across her cheeks. How embarrassing to be the only one relaxed enough to actually have fallen asleep. At the very least the wagon hadn't wandered off during her snooze.

Marguerite almost couldn't help but wonder what the new camp site would be like. She prayed for a nice open area, with plenty of trees to hide the location, filled with different plants for her too gather for whatever lied ahead. Maybe a nice stream of water to boot. It'd be nice. However, it usually didn't work out so much like that. A camp is normally hit or miss. You either have a real nice place to settle down or you've got yourself a swamp or a dry ol' flat bit of dirt and dust. She hoped that it would be nice. At least it had water, according to Buck. She wasn't too hopeful about the 'good enough' part of what he said, but it has been a tough trip and surely somewhere good enough to relax and rest would be perfectly fine for now.

As the caravan starts moving again, Marguerite gives the reins a good thwip, sending the horses off and lining up alongside Buck and his massive horse. She always thought Maurice was big, but this mans steed takes the cake. "Buck, hey," she calls out to the burly man. "Did you see anything interesting in the camp site? Surely you didn't just pick any old spot. Not that I'm doubting your scouting skills, of course. Just want to have a little something to mess with while we're here." Marguerite leans over a bit, her raven black hair falling over a shoulder and framing her face.

 

[VolcanicAccelerator]

Axe and Gun, Thunder and Steel

Buck wasn’t the smartest, he hadn’t read lots of books detailing the laws of man like Salvatore, or journals of science and alchemy like Marguerite but he knew some things. Some from his 26 odd years in the deep of the wilderness with nothing but Axe and Fenrir by his side and some from the gang, he knew something was gnawing at John like a predator on the heels of this prey. Buck pushed it no further however, old John would share on his own given enough time. “Well if I’m being honest, nearby I heard some hollering and lumber being chopped. From the sounds of it I’d say about a half dozen men. They hadn’t found the spot yet but I’d wager they won’t take kindly to us taking up camp so close. Now Fenrir” Buck gestured to the timber wolf who had now started trotting just behind Asher giving her his signature head tilts and wagging tail because he knew that was the fastest way to piece of jerky, “Was raring to take a bite out of them but I thought why savor all of the fun for myself” laughed the blue eyed wild-man uproariously.
Buck then noticed the others riding to him and John, he especially brightened at the sight of Marguerite as he particularly admired her. She knew plenty about the wilds like he, they shared a common love of natures bounty. If that wasn’t reason for admiration enough she fancied herself a Völva (Norse word for Seeress/Witch), a title worthy of respect, “Well a bit further up ahead this forest thins out into a little secluded valley, with this river passing through. Fast enough to be safe drinking but slow enough to not be taking ya with it! There’s plenty of river plants for ya and fish for cookin” the giants stomach rumbled like Thunder at the mere mention of food. Buck had an appetite to match his physique, he chuckled before pulling out his axe. It had a ancient aura to it, with etched Norse runes upon the hilt and honed edge, though it looked significantly less majestic as Buck began using it as a back scratcher. “Oi Salvi, we still’s on for that hunt?” shouted Buck, calling back to a night around the fire when the two came into question who’s trapping skills were the better, of course Buck specialized in much more furry targets than the former deputy. Buck had this overwhelming sincerity to him, he wasn’t a schemer, he couldn’t lie to save his life, he wore his heart on his chest with a big old smile he shared with the whole gang, honest and true. ​

 

[VolcanicAccelerator]

Picture of Camp Site before we set up tents and such

 

[noxrequiem]

Asher McCready
Spring, 1881

---

Asher glanced at Fenrir, who was trotting closely behind while wagging his tail and staring up at her with hopeful puppy-dog eyes. She frowned and grumbled to herself; that damn wolf was too smart. He knew just how to get what he wanted from her. She looked around at the others in the group, hoping their attention wasn’t on her as she leaned down and over in the saddle to fix the white beast with a half-heartedly stern look.

“Later,” she said in a hushed tone to the wolf, quickly straightening back up in the saddle trying to look casual and inconspicuous. She always tried to be sneaky about the fact she was giving him scraps and attention, though she was never quite sneaky enough as everyone in camp was already well aware. After all, she was the kind of person who always had to stop for a few moments and pet whatever dog or stray cat crossed her path.

She tried to focus back in on the conversation at hand, trying her best and failing to push down a grin at the way Buck’s face lit up at the sight of Marguerite. That man seemed smitten with the herbalist, but who could really blame him. Asher eventually began to tune out of the conversation, reflecting on what she’d do while they were camped out here. Going into town would be good, see what kind of shops and supplies they had for sale. And finding somewhere like an inn that had hot baths would be even better, she was so sick of only having cold creek water to wash with. That was one thing she missed about settled life, having a hot bath ready at the end of a particularly rough day.

And maybe in town there’d even be some bounties to pick up and make some money on. That’d be a good opportunity, but it also got her thinking. They were still far enough north that she didn’t think there was much of a chance of bounty hunters coming after her, but who knew. Her reputation, and her father’s reputation, often preceded her. She often wondered how much the others in the gang knew of the extent of her past. It’s not like many of them really asked, so she really didn’t blab too much about it. She figured someone like Law might’ve known, given that he was a lawman and they’d had their run-ins in the past, but overall she didn’t think too much on it. She didn’t have to be concerned about the people in her gang, just the people out of it. There was no sense in worrying about anything happening right now, so she didn’t.

On the other hand, though… Asher’s mind was finally brought back to the current moment as the group finally made it to the campsite that Buck had scouted out. She glanced over at John. She could tell something was bothering him, but knew now wasn’t the time to bring it up. They had a lot of work in unpacking to do first, so she’d just have to wait for the right opportunity a bit later. Swinging out of the saddle and steadily landing on her feet, the blonde woman stretched out her back with a grimace. Yeah, she was not looking forward to all the work that came with setting up camp.

 

[The Silent Z]

Big Bad John & Quinn, 1881 CO
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
​

John gave a nod to Buck over the news of some nearby hollering from a half a dozen men. He didn’t like the idea this presented to him almost like a sign that only gave rise to the funny feeling in the pit of his stomach. The gunslinger learned to listen to his gut instincts over the years especially during and after the war. But they were not enough to give any concerns to the gang. The ride had been long, Quinn was growing tired and no doubt she wasn’t alone in that feeling. So, John kept quiet about it all rather a common trait of his and a habit the gang likely had grown used to over their time riding with him.

The campsite was looking nice, no doubt they could all use the time to get settled and comfortable for now. John kept riding along toward the creek with a keen eye gazing over to the tree line while getting down from his horse and allowing Quinn a much needed break and drink of water. He could trust she wouldn’t wander off if let be without being tied off somewhere. Meanwhile the gunslinger walked over towards Bernards wagon to begin assisting with camp and setting it all up. John kept a wide door looking slab of wood cut to size it seemed though it wasn’t exactly that intentional, just a bit of luck with the find. He often if not always, he would use that slab instead of a tent giving him three sides to keep watch during the night to lower the chances of being caught off the guard while still having a bit of cover from the rain or bullets, a trick of propping it up just right. But tonight, he’d forgo the slab….

‘Ya just had to holler at me?!?! I’m old not deaf.’ Bernard started in his usual manner. The two had known each other for years, never a dull moment between them and usually it was Bernard chiming in with his moods, either complaining or cackling or nodding off but still lively enough for his age. John’s crooked corner filled grin just nodded giving off a roll of the eyes and slightest shake of his head. “It takes a holler to get ya moving. A tap to get your attention when sleeping. But your still giving….” John replied quietly with a chuckle and deep tones of his voice. Cutting himself off intentionally to just annoy the old man and let it sit there for a moment. ‘Ah….’ Bernard waved his hands away in gesture to John and turned away to start setting up his cooking for the morning, slowly it hit him and he turned back… ‘wait…. Just what am I giving still?!?!’ The old man added rather annoyed and grumpy about it all. John meanwhile just smiled without losing sight of that earlier feeling. “If you have to ask, you’re still giving it….. giving Something….” John uttered trailing off towards the end in response, again in some intentional manner to just play with the man some more.

The two men each had their own quirks and manners about them. But the long history between them gave for plenty of banter they gave one another at all times when they spoke, you’d think they hated each other sometimes if you didn’t know any better, but that was just how they were, old pals not afraid to give each other a hard time or push the others nerves to the line and back again. All the while John was pretty well set with his bedroll set away from the main gathering of the camp, giving him a bit of space and clear view of the tree line. Some might think it was rather isolated and unfriendly or non sociable of John, but it was just his way to keep a distance and let him keep watch throughout the night. A small gesture to let the others rest more and let him write in a bit of privacy while not bothering too much with his silence during that routine.

Walking over towards Quinn and taking off her saddle, eying the gang with a nod and small smile, using that time to glance over everyone and keep a watch over every angle the camp could possibly offer. A old habit of his tracing the angles, eying every tree line and possible offering the landscape had to offer. A way to familiarize himself with it all in quick enough manner and as subtle as he could just in case he was being watched. Letting Quinn be and talking to her kindly as he did, letting the palomino know she was appreciated and did well while heading back over to his bedroll to set the saddle down.


Buck and Salvatore talking about their hunt, Asher and Fenrir being friendly with one another. The crush Ol’ Buck had for Marguerite. The variety of relationships this gang had formed over the years between them all was a sight to see if you asked John, it didn’t matter the pairing or if they were human and animal or not, it was something to see.


After setting down the saddle and moving his hat off his head with a wipe of his brow using his sleeve then setting back on his head again. Eyes fixed on the trees thinking over that feeling, ignoring Bernard from afar as the old man went on complaining to everyone that would listen how much work he always had to do preparing food for everyone while never getting appreciated for it. A exaggeration of course, but that was just old Bernard, he liked being heard no matter what came out of his mouth, but deep down he knew the truth.

“You still hollering Cookie?!” John chimes in while keeping his eyes fixed where they were. ‘Yes I’m still hollering! Gotta be heard y’all don’t listen!’ The old cook shouted back with a cackle. “Well stop…. We heard you, still can if you don’t pipe down. Fishing for love ain’t a good look on you!” John hollered back letting the old fool know he’s appreciated in his own way. Meanwhile Bernard sometimes called Cookie by John even others perhaps just waved it off and kept at cooking breakfast and getting things done around his station at camp near the wagon he drove.

John glanced over briefly at the others, hazel eyes looking toward Asher, Sakai, Sal, Marguerite and Buck… “I’ll keep watch tonight.” The brown haired and stache, goateed man spoke unnecessarily so he was aware but did anyhow. It was his usual move, a common role he filled over the years. John never considered himself the best conversationalist or easy to express himself but in his own ways he showed he cared and was rather protective over everyone. Preferring to shoulder the extra time and burden himself, if it meant the others could get a little extra rest with peace in mind. It wasn’t like sleep came easy to him anyhow.

 

[Jackson123]

Sakai Jinzaemon
1881​

After hitching the horse to a makeshift, Sakai listen to the conversation as he found himself a proper flat land in the campsite for setting up tent. The trees around looks healthy, shall be able to protect the campsite from high winds while providing additional shade.

He observes the interaction between Asher and the white wolf. He remember there are wolves in Japan, Ookami, as they were called. When he was a younger man, wolves were revered as messenger of the Gods of mountains. But now, with the rapid industrialisation of the country, deforestation of the natural habitat, and introduction of rabies. Wolves in Japan are being hunted large scale, perhaps they will be extinct in a few years. Much like the samurais like himself, what was once respected now became a product of an obsolete bygone age.

Once his campsite was set up, Sakai use a makeshift wooden table to do maintenance on his weapons.

 

[IDKnuggets]

Salvatore “Law” Grotti
*******************************
​

Spring, 1881

Law nodded along to the nord's report, glad to hear there was a good place to rest ahead. He hoped the lumberjacks wouldn't be trouble, better to avoid any unnecessary attention if they could help it. Especially this far west, where he had started to hear his family's name cropping up in conversations.

Salvatore’s interest was piqued when Buck mentioned a hunt, bringing the dark haired man back into the conversation at hand. “Any time you please, mountain man” his reply was accompanied by a nod of the head. Then, with a soft chuckle at the other man's use of an axe, the bounty hunter made a suggestion. “We head out before dawn tomorrow and maybe we can round up some fresh food for these folks in time for breakfast.”

Though sure Buck was the better and more experienced hunter of the two, Law figured he might be able to give the Nordic man a decent enough challenge. A little friendly competition could do wonders for morale as well, perhaps they could even get a few of the others to join in. Asher was a bounty hunter same as himself, and though he wasn’t certain of her hunting skills Miss Marguerite could probably scrounge up something interesting and hopefully edible to pair with the meat. The swordsman could also be worth asking, him trying to cut down a buck with that blade of his would be some sight to behold. Buck referring to the animal and not the man of course, though the thought did conjure the intriguing image of a brawl between viking and samurai.

It wasn’t much longer before the Outsiders reached their camp for the night, a fine spot aside a pleasant river. By now many of the gang were as handy putting up a tent as they were with a gun, and everyone got to work setting up. Before getting to work himself Salvatore led Colt to the river and let the horse take a minute to drink.

Sal claimed a spot alongside the brook, setting up his tent before taking a seat by the water. In the moments peace, he drew each of his guns in turn to inspect and clean. Ideally they would spend the rest of the night in their holsters, but if anyone came looking for trouble they should be fit to draw.

Finished with his cleaning, Law sought out Buck to fill him in on his idea. “I was thinking of extending an invitation to some of the others, see if they want to join us on this hunt.” Grotti called as he approached the older man. “Miss Marguerite, Ash, the samurai, and John if he can pull himself away from camp for a bit. Make for a bit of friendly competition, let people blow off some steam”

 

[Vexumin]

Marguerite looked about as the crew arrived. It was a nice place. Her eyes pass over Buck once again as he started off in another direction. She had a deep appreciation for the wild man. There was a kinship between them that she doubted many others have in this world. She saw the big fellow as a brother in a way. As much as she could that is. It was hard to see people as family a lot of the time, especially after the unfortunate fate that befell her actual family. While she had issues with letting people too close, she was not all too worried about the people that had come together now. They were skilled people, one and all, and she did not fear that they would go down without a fight.

Once the wagon comes to a stop, Marguerite leaps from the seat and to the grass below. She couldn't help but take a breath of the fresh air this land had to provide and could not wait to get started with camp. It was a system of course, there was a lot to prepare, but Marguerite often believes it wise to just set up the basics when it comes to first setting up camp. Gathering a tent from the back of the wagon, she starts with that setup first. Just a little something for giving people a bit of shade or shelter in case there happened to be rainfall. Along with that she toted her sleeping roll along with her.

Setting up a tent was no issue. She's had to travel many times during her life thus far. It was a quick process. The moment it was up she had begun changing into her camp clothing. Stepping from the closed up tent, she pats off her camp clothing before looking around to see what else needs doing. Though she wanted very much to just walk on off into any random direction and start exploring the expanse of their campsite, she had duties to her crew first and foremost.

 

[noxrequiem]

Asher McCready
Spring, 1881

---

Asher nodded as John designated himself to keep watch for the night. By now, she knew better than to ask if he was sure. Every time in the past he’d turn her down and tell her to get some sleep instead. She figured this time wasn’t any different, so she conceded.

She had been one of the first ones to have her tent set up. A quite literal lifetime of experience made something like that as easy and natural as breathing to her, making the process very quick and painless. She had picked a quiet spot on the edge of camp, somewhat close to the creek, nearby to where the horses were hitched. Her main responsibility was usually watching over the horses, anyway. That was something she was generally good at. Experienced with. Better to keep her to something she’s good at, anyway. Last thing she needed was to get yelled at by someone like Bernard because she had somehow messed up the rations or something again…

Quickly finishing up her own duties (namely getting the horses settled and fed), she casually made her rounds around camp, snooping in on what the others were up to all while avoiding sticking around too long to accidentally volunteer herself to help out more. She had already given a scrap of jerky to Fenrir, so he’d lost interest in bothering her for the moment. She strolled around, taking notice of Marguerite still helping out with the last little bits of unpacking and settling in. Sakai was busy at the table with his various weapons spread out atop the surface, and Bernard was setting up a fire to cook. As Asher walked by Law and Buck, she overheard their conversation of making plans for their hunt. Apparently, Salvatore was proposing something of a competition and he wanted to bring her into it. Well, her and some of the other folk. She smiled faintly to herself. Sounded like it could be fun. Also sounded like it could be a disaster. Regardless, that was something that could wait for the moment.

Finally, she found who she was really looking for. Asher made her way over to John, casually positioning herself next to him with an exaggerated sigh, trying to hide a smile as she looked over at the rest of the camp. She was distracted for half a moment as she watched Sakai working on maintaining his weapons, her curiosity piqued. But she snapped herself out of it and focused on the man next to her instead.

“I overheard Law and Buck discussing their little hunting trip. Sounds like they might try dragging us into it, too,” she chuckled with a shake of her head. “Y’know, I actually don’t have all that much experience with hunting. First and one of the only times I went as a kid I shot my dad in the arm. Mistook him for a deer. Thank the Lord above my eyes have gotten better since then. Whole thing had turned me off from hunting for a while. Well, that and I wasn’t really allowed to hunt for some time after either.” She grinned to herself, reminiscing about the past. Happier times.

“Sorry. Rambling again. That’s not really the reason I came to talk to you.” The blonde continued suddenly, after a moment of reflection. She turned to face John, becoming a bit more serious as her voice dropped to a hushed tone. “Something’s been bothering you since we came in. I want to know what it is.”

 

[VolcanicAccelerator]

Axe and Gun, Thunder and Steel

Upon Arriving at the camp, Buck began preparing to provide his usual duties whenever they set up camp. Dragging around most of the heavy shit, most likely due to his sheer bulk whenever it came time to settle a camp he always got stuck hauling the barrels of hay or crates of supplies. He didn’t mind the work however and after a short while everything was in its place, he had only been sitting down for a moment cleaning his main hunting rifle when Law came over, discussing the proposal to invite a few more onto the trip at the break of Dawn tomorrow . “Eh sure why not, ask around and see who’s interested” said the Norseman, “I’d take a guess and say John would rather get some shut eye, a storms a brewin in his eyes again. Like Thor struck him upside the head” chuckled Buck with a sense of humor worthy of his heritage.
​

 

[The Silent Z]

John Morgan
Spring, 1881, Colorado
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bernard whipping up something to eat in his usual manner. John assisting with the setup of camp, while monitoring the trees from afar as if peering deep within the woods toward the suspected source of his feeling. Quinn’s saddle laying upon the ground at his feet with his bedroll well suited for his chosen spot at camp during the nights fall and moons gentle gaze amongst the stars. Eyes fixated like a obsessed man bothered by the unknown…..

The man had been mindful of the others in the gang, Marguerite stepping out from her tent dressed in her camp attire, assisting with camp chores. Sekai improvising with a make shift table to see to his weapons, Law and Buck conversing amongst themselves while tending to their business. It never took him long to get his own things taken care of while still noting those around him and their position. An old army trick maybe….. could also have been just plain habit after all the years spent wandering without a real settlement of his own.

Meanwhile their was Asher, one of the younger hands in the gang, tending to the horses for her share of the camp responsibilities. Always a curious one she was and seemed rather good with the horses and Fenrir looking back at it all. A telling trait of a person with how a animal responds to them… even without the treats involved. The gunslingers mind remained a wandering not satisfied with the answers he told himself to quiet the feeling he’s been having. A man or woman doesn’t tend to survive his line of work for this long without making use of their senses and gut instincts after all.

John wasn’t much for fiddling with his fingers when guns or cards weren’t involved, no, instead his habit was merely a tall quiet stand or sit pending the moment at hand, while his hands rested upon his gun belt or even one in his vest pocket with the thumb inside and the rest of his hand hanging out. Tapping was too obvious a tell, bad enough was his eyes sometimes when in such a fixated state like he was now with mind a wandering.

The moment Asher walked up toward him beginning to tell of what she over heard Buck and Law talking about. John tilted his head a bit lower offering a small smile at the thought and following story of her time learning how to hunt from her Father. John never minded the talking, perhaps was a welcomed relief given his mindset. A small chuckle at the story of Asher mistaking her father for a deer and shooting him in the arm, glad her eyes improved over the years with those guns involved. John could imagine how such a experience would deter a man from inviting her back on a hunt so soon after that adventure. He was about to wave off her apology for rambling, it wasn’t a bother to him just about a welcomed change truth be told. A man left to his own mind can be a crazy thing after too long.

John should have guessed it, the sharing of Bucks and Laws plans of inviting them all for a morning hunt with the reminiscing of her youthful days learning the ways of a hunt were not all what they may have appeared to be. A soft, recognizable grumble and sigh struck in initial response…. John could almost had his own language once anyone took the time to decipher and learn it all if they stuck around long enough. Each wordless sound and grumble telling of his mood, given answers of their own to questions or statements or whatever it may be. It was a slight annoyance for himself to being so revealing, perhaps obvious in his manner since they arrived. A little unfortunate it was brought up though it would be just his stubborn pride perhaps wishing to keep it upon himself least for now until maybe he had to say something for the good of the gang. Though he couldn’t say who else had felt and thought over such things.

There was that familiar look and changed tone of her again. John became rather familiar with that manner of Ashers over the years since she joined them. Giving a slight shake of his head, a thought about changing the subject and a idea of just how he’d go about it crossed his mind. But John figured she likely wouldn’t buy it. Eyes glanced over the gang then back towards Asher before looking to that tree-line again. “Shoulda guessed it….” He replied the man spoke low of volume and deep of his natural tone.


“Could be nothing important going with me. Ya know?” John added before reluctantly giving in and sharing his thoughts with the young blonde. “Durango is not far off in that direction.” He spoke looking off with his eyes to point out the way subtly. “Silver Creek isn’t far off either. No posse hangs around this close to town when riding after somebody. Settlers don’t wander in so small a group when it can be helped, not unless it’s a small family with fewer grown men or folk. Often they aren’t rowdy and so noticeable either.” John continued keeping his tone low as possible for him. “Folk working the mines or living off the land tend to stick closer to their work or shacks not tents within the woods. Otherwise they’d be in town given their interests and reasons for it.” The gunslinger continued to add explaining his thoughts that were going through his mind, crossing one likely option after another off his list.

“Its only a feeling though. I’d not wish to… what’s a word for it, maybe it’s dramatize and exaggerate the situation at hand I’m looking to say. Folk here got enough to concern themselves with never mind my wanderings about it.” John spoke looking to quiet the whole thing before it began. “Half a dozen men was it Buck said? Wouldn’t be a problem. Just a irritating pest to scratch off. Just a feeling down inside that’s not quite the whole story waiting to get told is all…” He added looking back toward Asher with a nod and quiet way of saying he’ll be fine, not to give worry or burden herself on his account.

~~~~

Meanwhile off in the distance a noise all too familiar with Bucks description from earlier and similar of a gang rather different from their own, began to stir again, slowly seemed to raise louder and feel like it was closing in toward the outsiders…..


noxrequiem Vexumin VolcanicAccelerator IDKnuggets Jackson123