Post by Marcus O'Terra on May 6, 2012 13:31:36 GMT -5
Marcus had already made sure all his gear was loaded and ready when he got onto the transport. The rifle, the heavy pistol and his backup glock. The knife was nestled where he could draw it easily. He'd take out one of them with it quiet like, if he could catch one off.
He didn't talk much during the trip except to either nod or agree with a few of the post-man's comments. He noticed the burns and bullet holes on the craft. It had taken its lumps, but did its jobs. Good work ethic.
But that all mattered on what he had to work with at the town. His eyes were narrow when he finally got sight of the place. And what a place. "Jack didn't even bother to show up to this place..." He grumbled. He chided himself, Whitefall wasn't much better in some places. But still. Ass end of nowhere. Burts still knew how to pick them.
He made his way toward the town, the largest building was probably some kind of auction house after that there was probably a bar somewhere.Ambush? Against superior numbers. No. He'd have to consider getting the towns folks help. But giving himself away? He was running out of time and he didn't even have a plan. A raw shoot out would leave him dead in the dirt, and Burts would have a bone to pick with Darrel.
As he wandered into the town, he could feel the eyes of everyone on him. Carrying a rifle like he was, it didn't surprise him. Still, an idea was forming in his mind. Wait for the ship to land, and Burts to leave, board the ship. Jury rig a slave-escape. Mop up after that.
Wouldn't be easy. Not at all. But it was something. He made for the bar, it was near enough the center of town he could make himself discrete if need be. He wouldn't mess with the people here. They wouldn't mess with him, presumably.
He headed into the bar and looked around, wondering what kinda watering hole he just walked into.
He didn't talk much during the trip except to either nod or agree with a few of the post-man's comments. He noticed the burns and bullet holes on the craft. It had taken its lumps, but did its jobs. Good work ethic.
But that all mattered on what he had to work with at the town. His eyes were narrow when he finally got sight of the place. And what a place. "Jack didn't even bother to show up to this place..." He grumbled. He chided himself, Whitefall wasn't much better in some places. But still. Ass end of nowhere. Burts still knew how to pick them.
He made his way toward the town, the largest building was probably some kind of auction house after that there was probably a bar somewhere.Ambush? Against superior numbers. No. He'd have to consider getting the towns folks help. But giving himself away? He was running out of time and he didn't even have a plan. A raw shoot out would leave him dead in the dirt, and Burts would have a bone to pick with Darrel.
As he wandered into the town, he could feel the eyes of everyone on him. Carrying a rifle like he was, it didn't surprise him. Still, an idea was forming in his mind. Wait for the ship to land, and Burts to leave, board the ship. Jury rig a slave-escape. Mop up after that.
Wouldn't be easy. Not at all. But it was something. He made for the bar, it was near enough the center of town he could make himself discrete if need be. He wouldn't mess with the people here. They wouldn't mess with him, presumably.
He headed into the bar and looked around, wondering what kinda watering hole he just walked into.