A loud snap-hiss filled the dusty tavern, startling many patrons, as a crimson energy blade entered existance, held in the gloved hands of a tall figure, concealed in a long, black cloak. The figured held the humming blade close to the leader of the Rodenas' throat. The only thing the rodent could see of the beam sword weilder's face was his chilling blue eyes with their icy glare, a sharp contrast to the hot, angry blade centimeters from the skin of his neck, sizzling the fur.

"Drop your knives and get away from him. Now.", spoke the figure; focused, controlled anger in his deep voice.

The leader of the rat pack glared at the figure angrily. Who would dare hold an energy blade to the leader of the Rodenas throat!?

"Ya only got one blade, fool. I got a lot more than just one blade," spat the leader with a cocky smirk.

The figure found himself surrounded by eager looking Mobian rats carrying knives.

"I said drop your knives and get away from him," stated the figure, obviously unshaken by the the bloodthirsty Rodenas pack.

The leader's eyes widened as he realized the figure wasn't backing down and that the energy blade was just millimeters from his throat.

"All right, man, you can have your pet drunk back," laughed the leader.

With a wave of his filthy hands the rats through the red-headed drunk to the hard wooden floor in front of the mysterious blade-wielding figure.

"You watch ya back, sucka," warned the leader as he spat on the drunk's face.

Breech Loader sat in her old predictable place, nursing some absinthe, white fire in a glass.

She watched the dance and the brief fight with some amusement; Zu was always good for a laugh. Then the stranger intervened.

What an idiot, she thought, Getting involved in somebody else's fight is always a bad idea.

She smirked, and cleared her throat, "You need to do something about that attitude problem, 'buddy'," she said, standing up.

The rat turned, "Yeah? Well, you can shut the @#%$ up-"

"And I've got just the thing," the black furred feline smirked. She grabbed the rat's ears and brought his head against her kneecap with a sharp *crack*, "A good night's sleep," she finished.

The rest of the bar stared in horrified admiration as the rat slumped to the floor.

"You lookin' for trouble, slag?" asked the second in command, who was about a foot taller than her.

"Nope, I just walk into bars and there it is," Breech replied, pulling out a knife and looking at it.

"What? You call that a knife?" he asked, pulling out something that would be called a sword if it was held in a normal sized hand, "This is what I call a knife!"

"Oh, really?" she said, and tossed the knife into the wall, where it stuck, quivering, "Well this is what I call Joe Glock."

With that, she pulled a Glock 9mm gun from her jacket.

"Hey Loader, I just had the blood cleaned off these floors. If you make another damn mess I'm gonna make you pay your tab off!" growled the bartender, obviously annoyed by the Rodenas and the annoying drunk, Zu.

The second in command sneered and slowly slumped away, grabbing the leader as he did this.

"C'mon boys, we got better things to do," spat the second in command as he and the Rodenas filed out of the bar in an obvious retreat.

The figure calmly deactivated the blade and returned the metal cylinder to the insides of his cloak. He stood there for a moment, watching the Rodenas leave the bar, not showing any sign of whatever it was he was feeling. After the gang was gone, he reached down, pulled Zu to his feet, and guided the human to a nearby chair.

"You need to cut back.", he advised the drunk, although it was unlikely that Zu would remember it.

The sword-weilder turned his hooded head towards the gunslinging feline, his expression unreadable within its shadows.

"Have we met before?"

Zu tried his best to focus his swirling vision on the stranger who had pulled his butt out of the fire.

"Thanss misterrrrruhhhnmmm," mumbled Zu.

Zu closed his eyes tight then opened them again, "Say, whassshh your name anysway?"

Even though Zu reeked of alcohol and bodily waste, the stranger didn't seem to react as Zu placed his filthy hand on his shoulder.

Zu, a big goofy grin looked over and saw Breech Loader, even though she never really hassled him too much, she wasn't just terribly kind either. Zu smirked and leanded closed to the stranger.

"She's a witch that one," coughed Zu, the alcohol making dull to the fact that his ribs were probably broken.

"I wouldn't know," Breech replied. She glared at Zu, then looked back at the cloaked figure, "I never work with anybody unless I know their face."

"Why'd you join in then?" asked the cloaked figure.

"Cus I felt sorry for someone who felt his life wasn't worth piss," she answered.

"Hey!" protested Zu.

"Not you, jackass," Breech sneered, "You," she looked at the figure, "Your life wouldn't have been worth a damn the moment you walked out that door. Fighting a gang without backup - I'd bet a month's wages that by evening tomorrow you'd be a chalk outline."

With that, she wandered back to her table and stared into her empty glass. She didn't actually work; like many of the people in the bar she did any job she could to earn money. She didn't look up, if the figure wanted to talk to her, he would have to come over.

OOC: What are the rules?

In another corner of the bar a collie in a ragged arctic uniform watched everything from the shadows, he had been going to interveen when the stranger with the beam sword dealt with the problem, Talios Derit leant back against the chair, smiling quietly at Breech Loader when she K.O'd the leader of the Rodenas.
He stroked the gun at his side, it was a customized pistol, but the shells, range and power behind the shot were all alterred. It didn't really matter, at close range a shot to the head would kill, that's all that he needed
With a sigh the collie rose and headed for the door, he didn't have to pay, he never drank anything anyway.
"Kills the senses my friend" whispered the memory of Oplie, "Kills the senses dead."
"Yeah dead, like you." He muttered quietly to himself, but even though he was quiet someone heard him.
"Oi! Who you callin' dead!" The bear pushed a side its chair and turned to face the canine. Then swung a rather inacurate punch, which swung hard and missed, the bear was drunk.
"I wasn't talking to you," said the dog in exasperation, dodging the swing.
But his new found opponent didn't seem to register the comment because it tried to hit him again.
In annoyance Talios quickly hit the bear hard in the stomache and tripped him with a low kick.
The drunken foe dropped like a felled tree and crashed back ontop of its chair, shattering it.
"Derit. You'll have to pay for that chair." Cried the bar tender.
TBC

ooc: Forgive me, been awhile since I started one 'o' these things, rules are:

1: no God characters
2: Character are allowed special abilities within reason
3: SatAM universe except set far into the future (as indicated by the first post) so most of Sonic the Hedgehog, Tails, etc. bloodlines have been so thinly spread that it's doubtful their are any descendents left (hint: try not to RP "sonic's son" type characters).
4: Gunplay, Sworplay and violence is allowed as long as your responsible with your posts and respect the "livlihood" of other characters.
5: Character Development and Character Backstories are key, so don't post your bios here, instead use your posts to paint the picture of your character and his views in this war-torn Mobius and the Backstories will be revealed naturally in conversation.

Any Question feel free to ask OOC 😉

IC:

Zu opened a single bloodshot eye and looked at the posterboard hanging forlornly on the side wall of the tavern. On it he noticed various Wanted Posters and their bounties scribbled underneath them. He noticed one in particular and his eyes widened, the poster read:

WANTED
Bridget Loranski
Dead or Alive
1,000,000.00
Cash in Bounties at Guild of Bounties in Samure

Zu forced his other eye opened and tried hard to focus on Breech's face.

"Ssssay... you look awwwfully like that cat in sha picsthure," giggled Zu lathargically.

Breech raised an eyebrow, "You're awfully perceptive for a drunken bum," she said. There seemed no point in denying it, "But that's an old poster," she continued, and ripped it off the wall, "I've killed a few of their people since then."

She pulled a different poster out of her pocket, and nailed it to the wall with a fork.

WANTED
Bridget Loranski
AKA Breech Loader/Arishima Katsumi/Askari Wa Kukodiwa/Mirage
1,500,000 Alive
15,000 Dead
Cash in Bounties at Guild of Bounties in Samure

The bounty had gone up, but it was more difficult to collect.

She shrugged, "And if any sucker in here wants their ears nailed to their knees, it's fine with me."

A few of the regulars looked with interest at the feline, but decided not to push their luck. The simple calmness with which Breech had admitted her value was enough to worry all but the most reckless bounty hunter.

In a dusty corner of the tavern, a skinny Ringtail, probably not much out of his teens, sat watching events unfold. Outline both dulled and enhanced by the pale light that streamed from the lantern close behind his table, it was clear he was a runt of the litter. He swilled what little of the brown fluid was left at the bottom of his tumbler, his expression one of icy curiosity even though his face was well obscured by the far light. Odd how no one who passed by seemed to notice him, even though the Coon's shadowy form had more then once caught Breachs attention and though he was a regular, a small irritating alarm kept going of at the back of her mind every time she caught his gaze.
It wasn't that the look in his eyes spelled trouble, trouble didn't worry her any and if anything it was often a welcom brake from the norm. No, it was more like trouble seemed to purposefully avoid any affiliation with him, that conniving look of half innocence - half wet nose thief always put her on edge, bounty hunters who were less then inconspicus often hid in plain sight and could easily pose as missfits. The patron, like many in the tavern, was dressed in near rags. Partly shreaded pants, a long sleeved shirt that hung loosly across his sholdures, two sizes bigger then needed with the sleeves cut on the hanging side, tattered at the ends as though some rabid dog had been gnawing at them. The cloak draped around the end of his chair wasn't much different, though it atleast looked like it would fit him. He was bair foot aside the dusty bandages that were bound in an identical fassion on both his feet and around his paws... a miner by the take of things, and yet his demeaner said something quite difrent.
Until now, the stranger had been casually observing. But when the new poster was nailed up, his attention seemed to focus more on events at hand. And yet, he remained silent as always.

The reverie was broken as the tavern's doors opened. Three figures entered as dust blew in from outside. The figure in the lead was a tall man wearing a brown leather duster, a cowboy hat perched atop his long dirty-blond hair and his face obscured by a red cloth bandana. The figure to the man's right was a white-furred echidna wearing a coat identical to his, while the one to his left wore a long black trenchcoat and had a large gas mask covering every feature on his head. It also was carrying a large duffel bag. The man started toward the bar while the other two figures stood sentry on either side of the door. The man's large boots made a racket as he walked toward the bar, drawing attention his way. Most of the patrons immediately lost interest, having seen this exact same scenario happen dozens of times before. The bartender's attention was held, however, a look of displeasure over something he had to do but didn't enjoy on his face.

The man stepped up to the bar and whipped his coat out before sitting down on a stool, revealing the two Colt Single Action Army revolvers he had holstered to his side.

"Howdy, Colonel," the bartender said, putting on his best customer-service voice. "What'll it be today?"

"A Scotch and your dues'll do me today, son," the man said, pulling down his bandana. He smiled as he talked, adding to the wrinkles that he'd earned over his many years of life. Dust that had gotten under his bandana fell off his dirty-blond goatee.

"It's been two weeks already?" the bartender feigned ignorance as he poured the shot and plunked down a wad of bills in front of the man he called 'Colonel'. The Colonel downed the shot and counted the bills in front of him.

"That it has, son. That it has," he said as he counted. "So, what happened here? I saw some blood on the floor over there and I'm damn sure them tables didn't break themselves off in the corner there. Ya have some kinda party and didn't think to invite the man you're paying to protect your fine estabishment?"

Talios felt his fur bristle in distaste as the "Colonel" came in. Leaving the bear where it had fallen he moved back to an empty table closer to the bar, he counted the bills being paid to the Colonel for protection from where he sat, and restrained a growl.
"Bide your time, bide your time, the right moment will come then you can strike" This time it was Emna, Ironic how he told him that, so long ago, and then a few weeks later he stuck at the very heart of the group.

Zu grinned at the new poster but quickly lost interest when the newcommers burst into the bar. Giving an idiot wave to the caped figure who had saved him, Zu lurched off the bar stool.

"The Colonel" as he was called over this dusty part of the world seemed to waste no time in extorting the bartender. Zu staggered from the bar stool and staggered over to the man with the nice shiny revolvers.

The Colonel could smell the stink of the drunk standing next to him. Instinctively the cowboy reached down and found that his twin Single Action Armies were gone. The Colonel spun around angrily as the tavern burst out laughing. Zu had somehow managed to get the revolvers and was now juggling them for the entertainment of the patrons.

"Now, now, no need to get too hasty with ol' Zu, he's harmless," pleaded the bartender who had a softspot for the stupid drunk.

However the bartender knew that the Colonel was not one to trifle with and that Zu was in for a world of hurt.

The racoon sitting in the dusty corner of the tavern just sighed, annoyed that the juggling drunk was obstructing his view of Breech, he knew that it would only take a second for Loader to slip out of a rowdy hole in the wall tavern like this one.

Zu staggered around clumsily but managed to juggle the twin revolvers easily until he accidentally bumped into Talios...

The Colonel grimaced as the lush paraded about, drunkenly juggled his prize six-shooters. He'd seen the moron do things like this before, presumably in some eternal quest to avoid suicide by getting someone else to kill him instead. And by the looks of things, he'd made someone try not too long ago. No, a guy like this wouldn't respond to violence, but maybe a bribe would do it. The Colonel looked toward the door, seeing Righty ready to pounce while Lefty remained motionless and impassive under his gas mask. Both of them were awaiting the order to go... an order he wasn't going to give right now. Maybe later, but not now.

"Damn fool drunk..." the Colonel motioned toward the bartender. "Give me a bottle of moonshine, hardest you got." The bartender nodded and grabbed a bottle of a vile-looking liquid off the shelf and set it on the bar. The Colonel opened it up and poured a shot as Zu bumped into someone and dropped the revolvers. As Zu reached down to resume his circus act, the Colonel stood up, shot glass in one hand and bottle in the other. "Hey, Zu. Wanna trade?"

The figure in the black cloak glanced over at the entering Colonel and felt disgust rising up within him. What the twin-gun slinger did was more extortion than protection, but it was essential in that brutal, uncaring world. But that didn't mean he had to like it. Old habits died hard.

He shook his and walked over to the feline.

"You have it wrong. I had nothing to fear from that gang. If anything, it was the other way around. I felt pity for a poor drunken fool that was going to die at the hands of a bunch of bullies, so I gave them the only kind of warning they would understand."

The figure stared at her silently from the inside of his hood, his cool blue eyes looking into hers.

"My name is James."

OOC: As usual Evalc, bean me when I've gone to far. But you of all people know if you bear with me, things are never what I make them out to be at first.

There was a bedtime story mothers told their children from time to time to get them to sleep during the hard times of current. The story of a young man with eternal life and flaring green eyes. A story of how many many many years ago this dashing alien simply called 'The Warden' came to Mobius with almost infinite power. Storm clouds bent to his will, his sword was ever razor sharp and his senses more so. They told that underneath his handsome exterior was the power of magic, mental control and crippling stares bent evil doers to his will. The Warden fought alongside defiant heroes of Mobian lore to save the good and innocent. Most children that had parents knew these stories well and they kept their faith alive.

Long ago those stories were legend. Long before that they were rumors. Before that, there was a gain of what some would call truth. You would be hard pressed to find any grown Mobian crazy enough to believe the fairy tales of current though. Now, The Warden was just a story in the minds of every youth with hope.

The sound of the tavern doors shutting caught the attention of a few patrons, for a moment and only a moment the silloette of a strangely tall figure, a sword, and two emeralds for eyes burned into their minds, pulling images from an old bedtime story to their thoughts. A moment and a blink later they watched a haggard looking young fox drag his exceedingly tall frame across the tavern.

Despite the obvious tension in the room, he was either too tired, too thirsty, or just too young to recognize it. Whatever the reason he shoved his way rudely past the "colonel"'s guards and drug himself to a bar stool, drooping first his ears, then his head down without so much as looking back at the people he'd shoved aside to attain his new perch.

Breech glanced at the drunken Zu, but returned to 'James'.

"People call me Breech at the moment. Breech Loader. Though I'll be doing another name change when I blow this joint in a week or less," she replied.

The Raccoon was making her feel uncomfortable. Twice she'd caught him looking her way. Maybe he was a bounty hunter, or worse, a scout sent ahead to follow her. She was getting that feeling again, the feeling that she'd have to kill him at some point.

As for the figure in the cloak... well, he was the true image of arrogance. He probably really did believe he could beat the rats, but he looked more suited to the battlefield than a bar brawl.

She looked up at the new entry with a shrug.

"On the run?" asked James.

Breech shifted uncomfortably, "Who isn't? Somebody rich wants me alive, but they'll still pay for my corpse. That means they want to kill me themselves. Oh, happy day."

She looked at her empty glass again. She wanted another drink, but she was trying to cut down. And there was so much smoke in the air.

"I don't have time for this," she said as she watched the impending bar brawl. She stood up and headed for the door.

"Thats probably not such a good idea ma'am"
Breech turned her harsh eyes toward the owner of the slightly rusty voice. The Coon was only a tables breath away, still looking toward the bar and avoiding eye contact with the feline, though in a whimsicle way rather then perpusful arrogance "Sandstorm's moving in from the westen craters, a big one too. Unless you god'a place to stay in town, the Dusters'll have you for lunch."

Dusters.. pesky little beggers on their own, but as their name sugests they often used the cover the reguar storms provided to hunt in packs, picking off any soul unfotunate enough (or stupid enough)to get caught in the open when the storm. There was even a story that an entire work shift was once whiped out when a swarm of Dusters fifty strong passed by the north mines during a masive sandstorm. Of cource, thats just an old miners tail.

Breech almost ground her teeth in frustration.

"Well... I suppose I could spare a little time," she conceded grudgingly, and sat back down at her table, picking some dried blood out from under her claws with a knife.

James' hard demeanor seemed to change in an instant as he looked at the wanted poster on the wall, becoming softer. Kinder. Not as distant from everyone else.

"Breech Loader.", he whispered to himself, "Interesting. You are hiding something...but what?"

The figure reached up and pulled back the hood on his head as he turned around, revealing a fox of indeterminate age. Physically, he looked like he was in his late twenties or early thirties, but the large streaks of gray in his fur and the look in his eyes suggested something else.

He swept his gaze over the room, looking at the many patrons of the bar. He stopped as his gaze crossed that of the young fox and narrowed his eyes.

"Oh, there's a storm coming, alright.", he said, although he meant more than just the sandstorm the raccoon was talking about. He turned to the young miner and bowed his head slightly in greeting.

"And who might you be?"

"Of course I'm hiding something, why else am I wanted alive?" Breech muttered, crossing her arms and leaning on the table.

The fox didn't lift his head, muttering through his arms weakly, "Do you serve anything in here or is it just a place for idiots to argue?"

The Coon looked up from his stare, assessing the fox with that same strangly inocent gaze that had so off nearved the feline.
"Name's Rayne, Rayne Brightwarter..."
It was odd that he didn't continue speeking, a though he'd perpsufuly stopped mid sentence for some reason.

The fox's ear jerked. "Rayne..." He muttered quietly, pulling his head up slightly. Then shook it lightly and laid it back down. "No, its been too long. Just a coincidence. Its been too long."

Talios helped Zu up again from falling into him, and watched as he got down and picked up the guns again,
"Tempting fate" he thought, but kept his opinions to himself.
As he heard the door shut again he turned his gaze to the tired looking fox who'd come in, for a few moments he had a feeling that he had forgotten something, something to do with green eyes and something else...but he couldn't remember.
He sighed inwardly and wondered what would happen next, he could feel the tension, and had a feeling there might be another fight soon if no one was careful.

Zu smiled wryly; for a split second the Colonel could almost see a flash of sarcasm in Zu's faded green eyes as the drunk stumbled over and laughed as he tossed both the revolvers in the air and snatched the shot of moonshine out of the Colonel's hand.

The Colonel easily caught the revolvers and jammed them squarely into their holsters.

"Fool," muttered the Colonel as Zu downed the moonshine without a second thought.

"You're not sso bad misssterrrr kernel," slobbered Zu as he suddenly lost his balanced and collapsed onto a bar stool.

The Colonel was no fool; there was something about Zu that set off a red flag in his mind, something about Zu's reflexes...

Zu spun around and slapped Talios harshly on the back, "Thanksss pal fer pickin' mee yup."

Talios grunted a reply, trying not to gag on how bad Zu smelled.

Then Zu noticed the haggard fox walk in and take a seat at the bar. For a brief moment Zu stood motionless, his blood ran cold, so cold that not even the alcohol could numb his senses. Zu suddenly began marching forward, he briefly brushed by James.

James suddenly felt alarmed, immediately he realized that the stupid drunk had gotten a hold of his plasma blade.

Zu ran forward clumsily and activated the sword and made a swing for the emerald-eyed fox's head.

"Lookout!" The yelp of warning from another patron came too late for the fox to dodge. Luckily the drunk missed, the logical cause being his inebriated state.

Zu swung, and felt the blade jerk upward unnaturally and cause him to swing it uncontrollably on the follow through.

The young fox yipped and fell out of the chair. His eyes staring at the man in wild shock. He looked feverishly around the bar, his voice was still weak to manage anything more than, "Wha?"

Without thinking Talios leapt up and grabbed Zu's wrist, preventing him from slashing at the fox's head.
"What are you doing!" Talios cried angrily holding on tightly, aware of the gaze of everyone in the tavern.

'No drunk has those kind of reflexes' Rayne thought to himself, watching as Zu was restrained. The coon took another squig from the tumbler, either uncaring or simply acknolaging the fact that he couldn't have done anything from this distance away... it was probably a bit of both. One eye scanned the bar from behind the tumbler, the tention in the air was at braking point, and the coon was in no mood to get involved in a brawl tonight.

Breech wrenched the blade from the drunk's hand, furious. One of his wild swings had nearly decapitated her.

"Give me that!" she snarled at Talios, and dropping the sword to the floor, landed a punch squarely on Zu's jaw, "You incompetant, stupid, less-than-worthless thing, you!" she shouted at the Overlander, and threw him against the wall.

"Here we go" The coon muttered under his breath, though remaining in his relaxed position at his table.

The resulting slam into the wall shook one of the the other patrons drinks of their table, causing this patron to leap in anger and promptly punch another patron in the face. In a flash a bar fight erputed, everyone punching everyone else.

Breech glared daggers at Zu, but the drunk seemed listless.

"Don't you pass out you piss drunk waste of skin!" demanded Breech as she reflexively reached out and backhanded an approaching attacker.

But it was too late, Zu was out cold in the midst of a nasty bar room brawl.

Something brushed past the coon's leg, as if there was a dog under his table. If he had glanced down he would have seen the fox holed up under the table hugging his knees and looking as if he was trying desparately not to be seen.

Rayne remained quiet as the fight erruped around him, sipping calmly at his drink. Fights were a regular ocurance in this place, but usualy if you kept calm and didn't get to your feet you could avoid most of the trouble. A quick glance toward his feet confirmed that someone had retreated under his table, though aside from the tail, he couldn't actualy tell who it was. He had his eyes flicking between the feline and the fox whome Zu had taken the beem sword, waching to see if they would get involved, after all, there was no where elce they could go. Over the din of the fight he could hear the storm front skirting passed the shutters, the storm would be here in minuets.

The Colonel grimaced as the bar erupted into an all-out brawl following the lush's surprise swing at the surly fox. He pulled both revolvers back out of his holsters. (Now, sir?) Righty's voice rang in his head. Now, the Colonel mentally replied. In a flash, the echidna's coat opened up and there was a slight blur of motion as the contents of the coat, dozens of razor-sharp throwing knives, were flung without the echidna's hands going anywhere near them. The knives all sailed quickly to their targets: right in front of the eyes of each person taking part in the bar brawl.

As the knives all stuck themselves harmlessly into the wall, the Colonel fired a gunshot at the ceiling. The fight stopped abruptly as the sudden flash of metal in front of their eyes combined with the loud report of the gunshot drew their attention away.

"Everyone just hold on a damn minute here! Now, the poor bastard who's establishment yer tearin' apart right now just paid me a good deal of money to protect the place, and that's what I aim to do so if yer gonna beat each other to a pulp I suggest ya do it outside! If ya choose to stay and fight, I'll put a bullet between your eyes right where you stand and put your head on a pole outside the bar as a warning to the next dumb bastard who wants to start trouble in a bar I'm protectin'." The Colonel puncuated his threat by cocking the hammer on both revolvers. "NOW HAVE I MADE MAHSELF CLEAR?!"

A deathly silence decended upon the bar at the Colonel's words. No one deared even move (though some were wobbiling from thier disorientated state.
Rayne downed the last of his drink and placed the glass back on the table... just as a second silence passed across the room. But this one was not caused by any gun or show of knife wilding. It was caused by the distant, shreaking raw that prearced though the closed doors of the tavern, loud enough to be heard even above the howling wind, the cry of insectoid rulers of the westen Craters...
"Dusters." Rayne muttered, still apearing depresivly calm to the untrained onlooker. Yet, as breech once again caught the coons gaze, she could see the fear rizing from beyond the glassy serface of his eyes, a fear that everyone in that room was feeling in equal portion... and those that didn't, were fools.

Breech cursed, punching the guy she was holding by the neck in the face and letting him drop, "He started it," she said, kicking the unconcious Zu in the gut.

The idiot drunk had been responsible for more bar fights than any other regular.

Then the Dusters screamed.

"Oh, bugger," she said quietly.

The rest of the occupants of the tavern seemed to share her sentiments, since they were pulling out weapons both defensive and offensive, and a few of the more seasoned fighters were forming into groups.

"I thought they never attacked strongholds!" somebody else growled.

"So get out there and tell them that!" Breech answered, backing into a group of another cat and a seven foot Alsatian, two regulars she knew she could trust to fight well and soberly.

"Are we gonna die, Burn?" asked the Alsatian, slipping on some knuckle-dusters.

"We're all going to die, Crash," Burn replied, pulling out a long knife.

"I meant soon."

"So did I."

"Though if you want to live a little longer, I sugest ya'all back away from eachother."
All eyes turned to Rayne, who was still sat in his place, tracing the edge of the whisky class with a claw. The coon had raised his voice so that all the patrians could hear him, yet remain seeted and calm, his tone level and firm.
"Dusters are scavingers, opotunists. They hunt in packs usin' heat an' sount ta track their pray. You go out there an' they'd be on ya in a hart beat. you'd never even see them comming either. But they don't attack buildings unless they got reason.."
He paused for a moment and looked up at the group with the alsation "that reason be'in if they can sense a big enough food source to make it worth their while... right now, you lot are pumping out heat like a grate big dinner bell.. So I sugest ya split up and put'at any cigars."

"How you do put on airs," Breech said to Rayne venomously, "They're practically animals - they won't attack us if they know we're bigger and stronger and more numerous than them. And if they have decided to attack, there's not that much we can do to change their minds!"

"So what makes you think you know so much about them?" she asked him.

After silence came the fox edged out from under the table. Looking around nervously before standing up. He watched the argument with interest but still said nothing. He looked as if he wanted to say something though, but remained silent as if he didn't place enough trust in either himself or these strangers to speak up.

As the others reacted in fear, the Colonel snapped into action as years of leading frightened men into battle came back to him. Righty, he thought. Go get your daggers. Lefty, time to go to work. You can try out the typewriter we picked up down south. Righty nodded from over by the door and started walking around and plucking the throwing knives from the walls of the tavern. Meanwhile, Lefty opened up the bag and pulled out a Tommy gun with a drum magazine already in it. He cackled as he cocked the gun, the gas mask muffling the laugh and giving it an almost alien quality.

The Colonel turned back toward the bartender and holstered his revolvers. "Barkeep, get some empty bottles and some dishrags and start makin' up some cocktails. The rest o' you, give the barkeep whatever liquor you ain't drank so he can make some more firebombs up."

"Colonel," the barkeep hissed. "Are you outta yer mind? You're gonna use up all my good booze!"

"I GAVE YOU AN ORDER AND I EXPECT IT TO BE FOLLOWED! Dammit, Colonel Jeff McCaffrey ain't never lost a battle in his life and he ain't about to lose his first to a bunch a overgrown houseflies!"

Rayne's eyes narrowed on Breech, the shadows behind him seeming to grow as his mood shifted. The Coon's rusty voice suddenly developed an icy kind of darkness about it, the kind that sent a chill though the more skittish of patrons. His demeanor alone was enough to convince Breech that she had just asked the wrong type of question.
"Cus' when you goda make the run from the mines to here love, you have to lern how to avoid the local wildlife. You ever seen how a Duster hunts Freelancer? I have... They're damn smart animals, but they're animals none the less. They stay away from buildings usualy cus theres plenty of pray out there for the pickin on the streats an' in the desert. But you give them reason to come in here, an' if theirs enought of them, their ain't gona be a soul left to tell about it. You see, smart they may be, but because they see 'heat' instead of light you five look like one big animal to them, maybe a cow or a horse. Their ain't no way they can tell how many there are though these walls. But if you split up and go back to ya' tables they either won't be able to see you.. either that or they'll sense us all and decide its too bigger risk. And Colonel?" The coon said, razing his voice with his eyes still on Breech You start chucking fire around an its gona attract every Duster for miles around just dont go outside an they wont bother us. The raccoon shifed his attention back to his drink, his mood faiding again as he blened back into his rightful quite place.

Breech nodded in understanding, "Heat-sensor vision... and for desert creatures it would be very sensitive..."

She glanced at the Colonel. Once he'd focused his mind on something, it wasn't likely to change.

The fox swallowed, then finally, he spoke. His voice was much calmer than he looked. Solid and monotone, as if he was very practiced at speaking. The words were clear but quieter than the yelling and commanding of the others.

"Lords and leaders bark and command, their words... much to clear to understand. Pain grows near and youth do wince, so are the words of my Remembrance.

I cannot stay, I cannot leave, the fire inside a trap does weave. The monsters outside the cave do leap, it... is our death, they'll reap."

Breech looked under the table, "What are you on about? You just came in - you haven't had time to get drunk enough to spout all that out yet."

The youth looked up questioning before blinking and shaking his head, "I don't get drunk. I wanted water."

James angrily snatched his beam sword from off the floor and clutched it tightly. He muttered a curse at the unconcious drunk that had stolen it and swore to do unspeakable things to him if even thought about doing it again.

Regaining his composure, the fox stood up and walked towards the door.

"Don't worry about the Dusters. I'll handle them."