The sun rises on another hot day in Little rock, the temperature of the last few weeks has steadily rose higher and higher. Now with the average temperature in the high 80's a drought has come, the communal well in the center of town has all but run dry from the constant traffic back and forth cause by the extreme heat. The single road town has crept to a standstill within the blistering heat, most spend their days within the walls of a local saloon, Macguffins. Owned and operated by a Irishman known only as Macguffin. 

The dry wind of the land lock town continues to bury the long unused railroad, no train has been seen in Little rock since the mine was attack some months ago now. Without the Train, Flint Barstock, owner and operator of the general store has hired a carriage to move goods from the closest town to Little rock; The same carriage that three unlikely companions find them self on. 

The carriage is small, led by a pair of horses while atop sits the driver. The top of the carriage is covered in crates and boxes, filled with supplies ordered by Flint. Inside the carriage is moderately comfortable, the worn brown leather of the seats have seen better days but still retains some form to it as three strangers watch each-other, uneasy of their traveling companions. 

"NEARLY THERE NOW, SHOULDN'T BE MORE THAT A 20 MINUTES OR SO." The drivers hoarse voice calls out as he informs the passengers of their impending arrival in Little Rock. 

Gretchen sits with her spectacles pulled far down on her nose, looking idly it the small window in the carriage. She drums her fingers in a slow steady rhythm on her Bible Case, to those paying attention she could almost be counting something. She turns calmly toward the other two. "Are we so uncivilized in this nation that we are going to make this entire trip without a word? I for one am not." She says passing her glasses up. "Gretchen, Gretchen Gallowglass, daughter of Garret 'Glass Jaw' Gallowglass, fortune seeker and friendly face. You are?" She asks.

The pepper-haired, older woman stirs at Gretchen's words. She has spent a good amount of the trip with her head propped up against her backpack. Her worn, three-tipped hat is over her face, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. She sighs pointedly, and raises the hat slightly. "You may call me Séraphine," she says quickly, her French accent thick and unmistakable. "Corsair de la Nymphe. You will have heard of me, I am sure. Friendly face, non. Idealist, non. Survivor, yes." 

Séraphine's head is back on her makeshift pillow before she finishes talking. She reaches out as she says "survivor," and knocks on the nearest wooden crate.

"I do not think we have come all this way for civilized discussion, oi? But do not let me stop you from making friends," she drawls.

„Redfeather is my name. Not used to talking, all friends away.“

redfeather is tall and nuscular. He has long black hair and his skin has a red tone. He wears leather pants and a leather coat above his otherwise bare torso.

The carriage lunges forward as the front-left wheel hits a rock that jostles some of the sealed crates. "MISERABLE ****" The driver yells as he nearly ejected from his seat atop the carriage. "I told em to fix this damn road If im to be makin regular deliveries." He is talking aloud, to no one in particular but seems fairly agitated. The sun has only been up for a little over an hour but already the heat is almost unbearable, Its rays are burning the skin of the driver. Coupled with the poor condition of the road leading into Little Rock, the driver is having a bad time. 

"You can see Little Rock from here, shouldn't be much longer now." He hollers back as the carriage rolls over a small hill. The small town of Little Rock coming into view. As far as towns go, it is small and quaint. From this position you are able to pick out 8 different buildings in total that all seem to be on the main thoroughfare. The rail station is where the Driver intends on delivering you and the ordered supplies, looks abandoned and weather beaten. The roof on the rickety one story building has nearly collapsed inwards and the outer walls appear to have been picked for lumber. 

Using her eyes of the eagle (spectacles) Gretchen will scan her eyes across the railstation and nearby area.

Perception: 22

Gretchen: 

"Oh my sweet and loving Lord... That is quite the unsightly little town. Hope the two of you came ready for trouble. I reckon they don't take kindly to new faces." Hey hands clench, making that rolling, crackling sounds the knuckles of those who've had to work the land to survive often make after a long day in the fields.

"Lets hope the trouble is ready for Redfeather" he says while gripping thight onto a giant spear adorned with various bones and feathers. Some of the bones and feathers are red, but not by nature. they seem to be coloured with some sort of paint.

Séraphine slowly sits up and straightens her three-cornered hat. She checks her pistols, tucks them back into their holsters, then leans forward to see what there is to make of the town. 

"Not what I would call...how do you say...'welcoming,'" she says. 

// Is it just the rail station that looks like it's in such disrepair? No other buildings in town? Just trying to get a vibe. 

// If it's only the rail station that is in bad shape, I'd like to survey the rest of the scene as we draw closer, look for possible places for ambushes on approach. 

Gretchens perception check was specifically for the Railstation and surrounding area, not the overall town. 

From your perspective, the town seems weather beaten and worn but mostly standing. There are  12 buildings in total but none of them look to be in the same amount of disrepair as the rail station. Make a Perception check to examine the buildings further. 

The Carriage driver tips his worn leather hat, "By god, what did they do to the rail station?" He is seeing this disrepair for the first time, indicating that it happened fairly recently. The carriage comes to a halt just outside the barely standing building, the horses pant and seem to be slightly agitated. "This is your stop folks, Welcome to Little Rock." The drivers wrinkled face comes into view on the side of the carriage as he has already set about loosening the ropes that hold the crates down. 

Across the way, The Reverend hears the commotion of the carriage. He stands to watch it come to a halt, Grabbing his basket and a book that was laying atop a rock. The Reverend makes his way towards the carriage, he looks determined if a little young to be in such a place. 

Gretchen will step out to meet him, hauling her satchel along with her. She stands, somewhat unladylike, with her feet apart in the slight crouch of a trained warrior.

(Perception check from earlier: 19)

Séraphine steps down from the carriage, drawing her pistols so smoothly that you wouldn't have really noticed until they were in her hands. She is on alert, due to the horses' uneasiness. 

Seraphine: 

 "My Children, Im afraid you have come too late for the fundraiser but I will be-" The Reverend catches up to the carriage and begins to speak but cuts himself short once he catches sight of the three of you. The reverend is a man in his late twenties, average height but a fair bit muscular, evident by his rather toned arms. His jaw is covered in a few days worth of hair growth, His left eye Is brown while his right eye is almost entirely white except for the pupil. "Oh You folk are here for the bounty as well."


The reverend clamors as he sets a basket of bullet casings onto the dry dirt, He adjusts his belt; his hand grazing the polished handle of a revolver at his side. "More and more come in search of that reward, This small town is swelled with life." 

"And here I thought we were special," Séraphine smiles, the irony in her tone unhidden by her thick accent. She sizes up the shrewd, younger man. "You are a man of God?" It is a half question, half statement.  

(Is he wearing a clerical collar or something to identify him as a reverend?)

Yes he is wearing a stole around his neck, A loose fit white shirt with the sleeves rolled upto his elbows, suspenders holding his black trousers up and a wide brim black hat. 

"So many casings, what happened fatherrrr?" Gretchen asks the question in such a way to try and garner his name.

The reverend carefully examined the three newcomers, his fingers loosely sliding over the book within his possession. "Do not fret my child, some rowdy individuals decided to have some target practice last night." He smiled threw rather well kept teeth. "Forgive me, my curiosity outweighed my common decency for a moment. I am Father Simon, I am the local priest but im sure you already assumed that." 

The driver is paying no attention to the conversation going on between you and the reverend, he has set about unloading his cargo before making the 8 hour journey back to the closest town. 

 Séraphine looks around again, smiles, and smoothly stows her pistols. "I suppose that 'target practice' is a popular hobby around here?" she intones to no one in particular.

Once she's satisfied that there is no imminent danger, her curiosity takes over and she tries to peek what book the priest has in his possession.

While doing so, she asks him, "Father Simon, then. I take it that the Baron lives in that house over there?" Séraphine points to the large three story manor, painted vibrant white, nestled among some rather healthy looking trees. "He is the one that put out the bounty, no?"

The Reverend chuckles threw the joke but with obvious disgust painted on his face. "Indeed it does Im afraid, even before word of the bounty got out the town was filled with unruly sorts; people who believe them self above the law and god." The Reverend holds the book close to his chest and seems questioning.  Seraphine, from this distance you can easily tell what the book he is holding is, a black leather bound thick book with a design inlaid into the leather on the front of it, a cross; He is clutching a rather worn bible. 

"Yes my child, Baron Quinn Alderly is the man funding the bounty. He lives in that very Manor but he is not known to take guests and rarely leaves his home. If you have inquires it would be wise to take them up with Marshall Gray, He is the man overseeing the operation. You should be able to find him in the Saloon just down the way." The Reverend points to a two story building that has a very large sign on it, while the letters are worn you are able to make out. 'Lowry's'. 

"I dont believe I got your names?" The Reverend looks at each one of you.