country
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Nov 7, 2003
- Messages
- 75
- Points
- 0
Ever ready and vigilant, the strange man strode into the tavern, and immediately recognized the woman tantalizing the crowd of rough necks. Tired as he was from his traveling, he knew that his mission must be a successful one. He amused himself with some cheap drink and stood in the back corner, in the shadows, watching the girl.
And what a sight she was. He did not know her, this vixen who danced so suggestively, only that he owed his mentor a favor. The years of training, the vast knowledge of both man and nature, the great skills he aquired (which had helped him sneak in the small horde of weapons he was concealing) were all thanks to the old man. That old coot. since the day he was found as an infant, and even to the day he sat at the deathbed of his mentor, he had always regarded the old man as being on a higher plain than most. Who would have thought that Grey Fox would ever pass away from something so simple as an inner disease. This was the only time the old man had ever mentioned this girl, or any girl for that matter. What his relationship was to the girl he did not know, only that he was told to watch over her. Perhaps a relative, or maybe a former aquaintance, it did not matter to him now, although he made a mental note to find out from her at some point in the future using one of his more persuasive skills (also a gift form the old man).
She was obviously trying to avoid the gaze of 2 very rough looking men, bounty hunters by their looks, so she did not even notice his entrance. He noted that she was wary yet open, alert yet casual. Not that alert, or she might have noticed that the very back of the stage was being watched by another group of bounty hunters. They, unlike their partners in the front, had opted for a better fiew from backstage, though it took some "convincing" for one of the other stage girls to allow them access. No, she had not noticed them. But he had.
An empty mug was all that stood where once a man had. The stranger moved with cautious steps. Horny drunk men were easy to fend off one at a time, even 6 or 7, but a group of over 50 would present a problem. Plus there were the bounty hunters, who would most likely attack now, attack later, and just skip asking any questions. Making a swift decision, he decided to make a casual exit and make for the rear, from the rear....
Grunts and muffled screams had awoken a stagegirl from her exhausted rest. She quickly put her shoes back on, tried to straighten her dishevelled hair, and hurriedly scrambled to the rear of the back area to find 3 dead men, the very ones who had "convinced" her it was ok for them to be in the back. Obviously, someone had disagreed....
Back inside, a man ordered another drink, and resumed his position in the shadows, watching the girl. A few quick stares, a half drunken snarl, and an inquisitive stageboy were all that noticed his return. But he feared nothing from these trivialities. No one who had ever faced the man known as Waylander had ever lived to tell about it. And these drunken fools were too busy drooling at the sight of the girl's wiggling toes, which interested him as well. Waylander simply smiled to himself, and sipped quietly on his drink.
And what a sight she was. He did not know her, this vixen who danced so suggestively, only that he owed his mentor a favor. The years of training, the vast knowledge of both man and nature, the great skills he aquired (which had helped him sneak in the small horde of weapons he was concealing) were all thanks to the old man. That old coot. since the day he was found as an infant, and even to the day he sat at the deathbed of his mentor, he had always regarded the old man as being on a higher plain than most. Who would have thought that Grey Fox would ever pass away from something so simple as an inner disease. This was the only time the old man had ever mentioned this girl, or any girl for that matter. What his relationship was to the girl he did not know, only that he was told to watch over her. Perhaps a relative, or maybe a former aquaintance, it did not matter to him now, although he made a mental note to find out from her at some point in the future using one of his more persuasive skills (also a gift form the old man).
She was obviously trying to avoid the gaze of 2 very rough looking men, bounty hunters by their looks, so she did not even notice his entrance. He noted that she was wary yet open, alert yet casual. Not that alert, or she might have noticed that the very back of the stage was being watched by another group of bounty hunters. They, unlike their partners in the front, had opted for a better fiew from backstage, though it took some "convincing" for one of the other stage girls to allow them access. No, she had not noticed them. But he had.
An empty mug was all that stood where once a man had. The stranger moved with cautious steps. Horny drunk men were easy to fend off one at a time, even 6 or 7, but a group of over 50 would present a problem. Plus there were the bounty hunters, who would most likely attack now, attack later, and just skip asking any questions. Making a swift decision, he decided to make a casual exit and make for the rear, from the rear....
Grunts and muffled screams had awoken a stagegirl from her exhausted rest. She quickly put her shoes back on, tried to straighten her dishevelled hair, and hurriedly scrambled to the rear of the back area to find 3 dead men, the very ones who had "convinced" her it was ok for them to be in the back. Obviously, someone had disagreed....
Back inside, a man ordered another drink, and resumed his position in the shadows, watching the girl. A few quick stares, a half drunken snarl, and an inquisitive stageboy were all that noticed his return. But he feared nothing from these trivialities. No one who had ever faced the man known as Waylander had ever lived to tell about it. And these drunken fools were too busy drooling at the sight of the girl's wiggling toes, which interested him as well. Waylander simply smiled to himself, and sipped quietly on his drink.
Last edited:
